Fable

A Pear Tree in Autumn
I think I was getting close to the end of my rope when I found that postcard. My gallery was on the verge of bankruptcy, I had just been dumped, and my favorite coffee shop had closed due to one too many botched health inspections. I wasn’t even certain I would make it through the week, so I was pretty surprised that something as small and insignificant as a postcard was able to change my life.
By David Angell5 years ago in Fiction
Sibilla
Summer In a modestly sized but no less verdant garden courtyard there stood the most obstinate tree James Midsummer had ever had the misfortune to care for. He stood beside it now, roughing the bark with his old calloused hands, then sighing and looking up into the canopy where bits of sky blue were scattered like confetti amongst the many shades of green.
By D. C. Jacobs5 years ago in Fiction
Forbidden
Forbidden The darkness had just covered the path, the was but a sliver of silver hanging in the western sky. Tiny hands and feet appeared, but only to the sharpest eye. This little one was well versed in the art of concealing oneself. She slipped across the path in the black shadow of a very large oak tree, traveling on all fours making it difficult to distinguish the nature of the tiny creature. Silently removing two stones allowed room to slip through the wall.
By Gayle5 years ago in Fiction
Loulou
Long ago, it is said that a great and wonderous spirit lived in a magical oasis beyond the mountains in the middle of a desert. This spirit, which dwelled in a frozen pond, was known to grant wishes whenever he was pleased.
By Asiya5 years ago in Fiction
Frozen Anniversary Mystery
Veronica and Elizabeth have been married for three years. Every winter, they get to celebrate their anniversary and are always finding new activities to do to keep the celebrations interesting. This year, they just moved to an old farm house and one of the best perks is the large pond that came with it. They have heard many dark rumors about that pond, people disappearing, deaths, but they refused to let that scare them. No one knows how people have disappeared or died in the shallow pond, it still remains a mystery.
By SH5 years ago in Fiction
A Warning
Not long ago, not far away, Lived a lady who some would say, Was very kind, and very wise, And generally, I would advise,
By Aggie Helne5 years ago in Fiction
The Cursed Prince and the Boy's Cure
Gone too long! Young Sidion nervously wove a leather cord between his fingers; his eyes straining for the first glimpse of their return. No one came. He held up the cord and shined the medallion - a spearheaded fish encircled in silver - between finger and thumb. His father, Theron, and grandfather, Hurley, had chased after this elusive fish, merely a local legend retold among the fishing families in the river town of Rapidshire.
By Emily Snow 5 years ago in Fiction
A Pair of Black Cats
Many moons ago, in a suburb of Pennsylvania, there once lived an intriguing pair of black cats. Matilda and Mildred were the only survivors in a litter of ten, born of a sickly mother. Matilda, the oldest by three minutes, was long and lean, quick-witted and agile. Unfortunately, she also had a bit of an attitude problem and was abrupt with her words. Mildred, on the other hand, was short and stout, solid and sentimental. She could chat for hours, loving meaningful conversation.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Fiction
Dryad Ritual
"It started with fire, more fire, and then more of the same. Every conversation was kindling, every mistake was a branch of green that sparked, and the split wood, crossed, that framed it all kept the restless flames fed.
By Danielle Mullineaux5 years ago in Fiction
The Rose and the Pear Tree
There once was a maiden who was often compared to a rose. She was beautiful beyond imagine. However, if you got on her bad side, she would stab you like a thorn.
By Odessa Newton5 years ago in Fiction
The Frozen Pond
Growing up, my dad told a lot of tall tales. I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor listening to him breathe life into the stories with his words. Our family descends from a Scandinavian tribe in the north, so naturally, my favorite stories are based on lore. It was sad to watch my dad grow old, to see the wrinkles around his forest green eyes deepen and multiply with age. I remember his eyes most, so full of amusement and warmth. I’m grown now, hiking with my dog to our favorite campsite. I visit this place every year. It reminds me of the last time my dad took me camping.
By Maggie Justice5 years ago in Fiction
Lonely Luna
Long ago, there lived two sisters on the edge of the great forest. Lola, the elder sister, and Luna, the younger sister. They spent their days foraging in the forest, fishing in the river, or crafting pottery from clay they dug up from the earth. When night came, they were sure to be safe inside, for back then the night was pitch black. There was nothing to illuminate the forest, nothing to drive back the creatures that made their homes in the darkness. On the darkest nights they could hear the shuffling of heavy feet and the scraping of claws through the dirt. On those nights Lola and Luna huddled together beneath a blanket by the hearth. They watched the embers of their modest fire and held each other close until sleep transported them to the morning and bathed them in its merciful light.
By Holden Marx5 years ago in Fiction