Young Adult
Myth No More
Wilmington, Delaware in winter always marveled the mind of Pollard Hedrich. Wrapped in brown skin that rivaled the inside of matchbooks, his mind had always been afire. He walked with his friend Tyrell Frankman, the color of charcoal, along a field with a clear path, snow surrounding them.
By Skyler Saundersabout a month ago in Fiction
Moonharbor
I sit on the cliff that hangs off of Moonharbor counting the stars. My mom is working late again like usual, and my dad passed away when I was young. After he passed I felt separate from the world. Like someone who watches the world instead of being part of it. I spend days wishing someone would sit beside me, watching the stars, just like me and my father used to. I feel the wind brush my cheek, and play with my hair. The salt of the ocean falls on my tongue, as the dark night silences all emotions. I watch the waves hit the rocks, and admire the moonlight reflecting off the water. I feel a heaviness in my chest, like a stone sitting on my ribs making it hard to breath as I sit with the stars as my only company. I notice the moon is lower than usual, that's strange but we are not too different both lonely in the dark of the night.
By Christian Sanchezabout a month ago in Fiction
Fires of Adversity
Kathryn, Princess of Thuirene, rose early to enjoy the sunrise in peaceful solitude. As much solitude as a member of the royal family ever got, anyway. She’d have little enough of that in the coming days, that every moment without someone demanding her attention was a gift to be savoured.
By Natasja Roseabout a month ago in Fiction
The Brightness
By the time Cara reached her locker, the light had already arrived. It was rising through the floor in a slow, deliberate sheet, a pale brightness that behaved less like illumination and more like weather. Not harsh. Not blinding. Just there, pressing gently upward, filling the hallway from the ground like something patient and inevitable. It softened the edges of everything it touched. Lockers. Shoes. The thin layer of dust that never quite disappeared, no matter how often the cleaners came through.
By Emilie Turnerabout a month ago in Fiction
“The Girl Who Broke Willowford”
It's currently the summer of 1955 my name is James Hale, I live in the small town of Willowford. I work at my local diner, taking the same customers every day, receiving the same meals and life is good. It feels like every week repeats but nobody questions it, that's just how life is in Willowford. There’s a comfort to the routine, a rhythm to the days that never changes. People wave the same way, smile the same way, live the same way. Maybe that’s why I’ve never questioned it — Willowford feels safe, even when it feels strange.
By Christian Sanchezabout a month ago in Fiction
The Throne Room
The smoke hung heavy in the air, overtaking the sweet and savory smells that permeated the festival. The wooden poles that held the steel grates over the roaring flames were overturned, and the meats were ravaged by the beasts that hunted with the red-eyed shifter.
By KA Stefana about a month ago in Fiction
TCoE: Climb
A scoff erupted from above. "You'll never make it," a man's ragged voice sneered. A twelve-year-old boy with messy dark hair and tan skin pulled his brown eyes from the parchment in his shaking hands. The sharp, resentful words cut his heart, leaving it frozen and gradually draining. The skinny lad was a bit taken aback by the stranger's harshness, but he mentally fought hard to brush it off. After a few moments, the bitter man who taunted the boy removed the hood of his cloak to reveal a scarred face. The man had wrinkly, tanned skin and long, dark hair.
By Mel E. Furnishabout a month ago in Fiction
Calamity "Callie" Shortfuse. Content Warning.
So, Miss Shortfuse... Neat name. Very nice to meet you. May I call you Calamity? Callie, if it's all the same to ya. You only call me "Calamity," when you're beggin' for your life. So Callie is just fine.
By Madison "Maddy" Newtonabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lovely Lute
I am the lovely Lute. Silver eyes, pale skin, golden hair—I am the picture of youth, despite my old age. All over my body are trace amounts of feathers. You'll find them living in my hair, across my shoulders and up and down my back.
By Madison "Maddy" Newtonabout a month ago in Fiction
Syndra of the Silver Void
The Flint and Steel My parents were Sinaht and Rubarae, astral elves many looked up to. My mother, Rubarae, was a gifted healer while my father, Sinaht, was a studied philosopher, his gaze always fixated on the stars. Always.
By Madison "Maddy" Newtonabout a month ago in Fiction
Pastel Nightmare
The Johnsons were the quintessential suburban family. Laura, her husband Mark, and their two kids, Ellie and Ben, loved going all out for the holidays. Easter was no exception. Pastel-colored eggs, garlands, and bunny decorations adorned their home every year, but this time, Laura wanted to make it extra special.
By V-Ink Storiesabout a month ago in Fiction
