Sci Fi
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
Relocated
There was nothing but this brown dust as far as the eye could see. Its dry, clay-like texture choked my senses. I would have sighed, but that would have meant sucking in a mouthful of whatever this crud was. And the air—don’t get me started on the air… all I could smell was excrement… everywhere.
By Alicia Anspaughabout a month ago in Fiction
The Lantern in the Fog
The fog settled over the village like a blanket soaked in silence. At first it was gentle, wrapping the streets in a quiet hush. But as night deepened, it thickened into something heavier, almost alive, crawling along the cobblestones and slipping into the cracks of every home. It was not the kind of fog that simply blurred the edges of things. This fog carried a chill that touched the marrow, a weight that pressed on the heart, and whispered doubts in voices that sounded eerily familiar.
By Sound and Spiritabout a month ago in Fiction
Dragon's Breath
Zorb checked the calculations on the dash as his ship zoomed through space. His controls went crazy as he entered the meteor field. Lightning appeared out of nowhere, striking the fragile ship. As the crew hit the ground, the instruments flickered as they dove into an odd planet. Its fields were green and lacked any bases. The strange planet seemed simple, and yet Zorb still kept his guard. The land was empty until a small creature, ridden by a new species, appeared. Zorb walked out of the opening wearing his galactic translator.
By Sarah Danaherabout a month ago in Fiction
The Gods Shall Provide
Trielsa scraped carefully at the heavy white clunch, freeing the delicate vevola plant with as little root loss as possible. In the cratered landscape of clay and dust left behind by the miners, the vevola was a precious symbol of vitality and endurance. She would plant it outside the Hall of the Ancestors, where its purple blossoms and sweet scent would help dispel the sorrow around the place.
By Angel Whelanabout a month ago in Fiction
