Fable
The Knot
Myth They tell it as a lesson: Icarus soared on wings of wax and feathers, drunk on the sun, and fell because he would not listen. The story is short and sharp, a moral carved into children’s mouths. It leaves no room for the small, ordinary things that make up a life.
By Kristen Barenthaler17 days ago in Fiction
The Vein Tale Rest Stop
Nestled between fairy tales and bedtime dreams, a scholarly kingdom resided whose rulers ponder moral decisions, researching warning writings published through various creative platforms. Guarding the blurry interpretive border, performing duet duties, friendly colleagues Melody and Piper, maidens completing their claiming knowing everything assignments, kept the electricity flowing, sparking pinwheel arms energy, by blowing clean air into the civilized invention, designed to provide the community with life.
By Marc OBrien18 days ago in Fiction
The Thirteenth Plate
I prepared the table to Mara on the twelfth of each month. It isn’t a sentimental thing. Not anymore. It is muscle memory--as closing the door, as switching off the stove. My hands do it and my head is still deluding itself that I am normal.
By Edward Smith20 days ago in Fiction
The White Hare's Revenge
Tobias Cullen had always been a quiet boy, meek and timid, with wide, innocent eyes that rarely made contact with others. He lived on a small, isolated farm at the edge of the village of Dunsfield, a place where the ground was barren, and the seasons seemed to pass by in slow, cruel cycles. He had been tormented by the villagers for as long as he could remember—called names, pushed into ditches, humiliated at every turn. They called him "the hare," mocking his pale skin and slight frame. Every Easter, when the town came alive with celebration and laughter, Tobias was forgotten. His existence was as invisible to them as the soft whispers of the wind.
By V-Ink Stories20 days ago in Fiction
The Last Sunrise
The town of Red Hollow had long since abandoned the joy of Easter. What had once been a celebration of spring and renewal had turned into a time of terror. Every year, as Easter morning dawned, the sun would rise blood-red, bathing the land in its eerie glow.
By V-Ink Stories20 days ago in Fiction
