Excerpt
The Twelve
Very few alive now know of the days before the Council of the Twelve. The days when Ophiuchus was the thirteenth Zodiac. Though he is now associated with medicine in mythos, he was a terror in reality. A snake charmer, he would often leave baskets of asps at the doorsteps of his enemies or distil poisons from the very serpents he kept cloistered in his robes.
By Kierra Wilson5 years ago in Fiction
Don't Quote Me On That
When the elevator doors opened, Patti Interrante felt the shift in temperature immediately. The lower floors of the hotel were warmer than usual to accommodate the flower and garden expo taking place that weekend, and the constant misting systems used by most of the exotic plant dealers kept the place humid. Every hallway seemed to glow with the soft green lights that, according to the gardeners, kept the plants happy.
By Lacey Doddrow5 years ago in Fiction
Perception is Everything
“Come on, can we go on, please?” I begged her. My lower lip forms a pout that I realize she’s paying no attention to. I turned my attention to our friend, Monica who stood beside me. She wore the same facial expression as I wore: annoyance.
By Lindsay Dewolfe5 years ago in Fiction
Positive Emotions. Top Story - August 2024.
The flower sat on the window sill as a reminder of positive emotions. It was a marigold and it was a bright resilient orange. It was starting to get leggy, straggly at its stem; it looked forlorn as it had been there for some time in its pot. Brownness was encroaching on its edges, eroding its leaves and causing them to tatter; like rags and bags caught forever on a fence, unable to escape the merciless, relentless wind, waiting to disintegrate. Summer was almost over and it would die. It had dry soil with a crispy crust, scattered with vermiculite from the once healthy potting mix. Its stem and leaves had once been a vibrant green but now it looked like a child's drawing of a flower, coloured with cheap acrylic paints from the dollar store that were too thin and presented colour like a veil, not a brick. It was fading and no-one was there to notice except her.
By Rachel Deeming5 years ago in Fiction
A Canopy
The trap worked. When the beast took the bait, the trap closed down hard like an arrow. Its hind legs were crushed; its bones came jutting out like warm glue. It was a wacky thing to view, this beast succumbing to my homemade trap. I had used nothing but sticks and wines from the canopy. I stood in front of the beast, not worried that it might hurt me; it was in agony from its broken legs. I removed one of the sticks from the beast and licked the blood clean off. Yum.
By Justin Fong Cruz5 years ago in Fiction
Excerpts from the Teklirian Manuscript:
Introduction What draws a potential practitioner to the necromantic arts can be any number of things, but for each it is undeniably personal. For some it’s vengeance at a raw childhood. For others, mere curiosity coupled with an unexpected knack. And still others are drawn to it out of fear or a need for power over that which chills them. There are more reasons than there are necromancers, but one unifying theme is clear: the capacity and tenacity for arduous study.
By Max Gibbs-Ruby (he/him or they/them)5 years ago in Fiction
Garden
The angel takes the girl by the hand and draws her toward him, staring deeply into her eyes and smiling at what he sees. He turns and begins to walk forward, leading her deeper into his beautiful garden, shimmering in the afternoon light. The girl never takes her eyes off him. His body bare, thin but muscular.
By Lauren Clamp5 years ago in Fiction
