When Adeline was young, she would dream of the fairytales her father told. His deep voice painted landscapes she had never seen, with fairies and dragons and elves that came in all sizes and shapes; a good wizard who conquered an evil wizard—a princess who always found her prince. Her father fueled her dreams night after night until a day came when he didn’t, and it fell to the books on her shelves to fill the void of her dreams.
“Outdated books,” Adeline thought. Her eyes followed the children splashing in the public fountain in front of her. Basile had told her that only half of the children were actually c
The water is frigid but the urge to bathe is far too tempting to ignore.
"W...wait," I say, out of breath from running. I shed my shirt and pants, the fabric wet from rain and sweat dropping easily from my body. Closing my eyes, I take in a breath and focus.
I shiver violently and my fingertips spark.
Gritting my teeth I thrust my hands beneath the bubbling spring and spread my warmth, steam instantly rising up from the water.
“Not yet,” I wade into water that’s now lukewarm and laugh at how easy this is. I take three quick breathes and submerge myself, curling my body into a ball. After thirty seconds my heart is poundin
I’m barefoot again, toes curling in the soft grass and I wish it were sand beneath my feet. The sun is gone now, the daylight swallowed by the dark. I look to the sky, hoping nature's canvas will bless us tonight.
The stars here shine brighter than I’ve ever seen and sometimes the sky is streaked with ribbons of sea green and violet. It’s the Northern Lights, I think. Whatever it is, it’s truly breathtaking. Colors swirling slow like an acid trip galaxy, I can’t help but stare. It's simply beautiful.
I take slow steps into the yard, it’s warm tonight and I’m feeling tired. I'm always so tired these
Sunlight is reflecting off the glass again. I used to think it was beautiful... the way the curves of the bottle cause the light to refract and sparkle. I would sit surrounded by rainbows as my bottle bobbled along the surface of the ocean, morning sunshine slanting, a peaceful, stunning dawn.
I saw it again and again, the beginning of each day shimmering anew, and for a time it gave me hope. As the sun rose and set in an never ending cycle, the beauty of it all lost it’s luster. The gleaming rays a blinding reminder of my cage made of glass, one I can see through but can’t escape.
Sometimes I put my hands against the glass and
In her earliest memory, she realized that her parents weren't in love.
It wasn't the plastic smiles they brandished for each other at the beginning and end of each day, chaste kisses or the word 'sweetheart' imbued with all the heartfelt feeling typically reserved for 'tax returns'. It wasn't even the way her mother cried at night, so soft that only her shuddering inward breaths gave her away.
She recognized those things only later, in pieces, in the aftermath. What she recognized first, in that bright, earliest memory, was the absence of sparks in the words they spoke to one another.
Too young to know the word 'seer', she already kne
It was a marvelous cup of coffee. The sweet foam lightly accented the rich tones of the dark liquid. Perfectly hot, the drink caressed Joe’s tongue lovingly with every sip. A throaty groan of pleasure escaped the drunk’s lips.
“Don’ know how ya do it, Con. Best damn cup in the ‘hole schity…hic…city.”
The Roast was the only coffee shop open this late, when the darkness of the night seemed to seep up from the ground and swallow the pale streetlights of the frail city. Joe sat swaying at the granite counter. “How d’ya…uh…do that?”
The dark eyes of the late
Flash Fic: Heritage by Marjolijn-Ashara, literature
Literature
Flash Fic: Heritage
There was something partially blocking the door to my flat. Something heavy. I gingerly slid through the narrow space between and closed the door behind me. Someone had been in my house. It was the small things that gave it away, really. The teacup I had used this morning was washed and on the rack, the books I had been reading through no longer left open but neatly stacked. And of course one big thing; a big chest made out of dark wood sitting just inside the room, like the person carrying it in simply couldn’t lift it any longer. It could only mean one thing.
“Mum,” I said as soon as she picked up, “why is there an
Page 5: The angels are here. Don't- by IntelligentZombie, literature
Literature
Page 5: The angels are here. Don't-
Page 1
You sit in your living room, curled up with a book. You are startled by loud knocking at your door. Looking up, you see the door rattle on its hinges. Shaking, you tiptoe to the door as the thudding continues. Peering through the peephole, all you see are stone feathers. The door shudders violently. What do you do?
To open the door, you unbelievable moron, turn to page 37.
To run away before the door falls on you, turn to paXXXX
[The second page number has been scribbled over with sharpie. You turn to page 37, only to find it has been ripped down the middle.]
Page 37
You open the door. The angels are here.
Somehow you always knew
The hard concrete of the tunnel was cold on Celia's bare feet.
"It'll be safe soon. Just walk a little quicker, please."
Her little legs moved faster. Voices echoed all around her. The tunnel was filled with panicked footsteps and nervous chit-chat.
"Don't pay attention to them."
Celia bobbed her head. She needed to concentrate on keeping up with the rest of the group anyways. They continued forward for years it seemed until they reached the door at the end. It opened for them.
Celia hurried inside. She was nearly trampled by the frantic mob. Her bloody feet now rested on top a bed of soft grass. The dreariness of the tunnel had been rep
FFM16-2 In the Name of a Hug by C-A-Harland, literature
Literature
FFM16-2 In the Name of a Hug
Prickles passed the last ingredient -- pickled newt eyes -- to Mistress Moonshine. She plucked it off his spiny arm and dropped it into the bubbling cauldron. Both watched intently as the green solution frothed and turned pink. A smoky, pink heart puffed from the top of the cauldron.
“It worked,” Mistress Moonshine cheered, throwing her arms wide.
Prickles grinned also and spread his arms too, waiting for the gleeful embrace of his mistress. But Mistress Moonshine scooped the potion bottles into her arms instead. Little coloured vials chinked and toppled as she wrapped her arms around them. Prickles’ face fell.