Wings flutter, small fingers pulling on a single purple leaf. A swarm of black feathers and a call break the silence, the crow missed its target, yet the leaf is now free. It falls, the fingers still gripping tight, as crystalline wings begin to crinkle, and skin begins to fade, the leaf turns from purple to red as its jailbreaker melts away. The forest floor is a hush of falling leaves, as one more is added. The crinkle of footsteps isn't the dying leaves, but the bones of faeries who set them free.
About the Creator
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Dreaming of Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. That’s what everybody says anyway, but I always remember there being dragons. They would roam in the darkness, their teeth protruding from their mouths, too long to fit inside, and their eyes soulless. Nothing but black pupils, dark and unblinking. Nera is constantly chittering in my ear about how amazing the dragons are, with their venomous glands, talons stronger than diamonds, wings razor sharp and all that. I don’t really get what she sees in them, I mean, they are horrifying and weird which technically makes them very amazing but they are also the main reason I haven’t slept in three days and am not paying attention.
By Steph Ruff4 years ago in Fiction
Parting is such sweet and salty sorrow...
Dear Wife— At first, I hesitated to go forward with this resolution. But after your recent late-night binges scarfing down bags of chicharrónes—those pork rinds you dip in butter and the god-awful crunch they make, I knew I could no longer reach you.
By Lamar Wiggins7 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
The logistical challenges of timing the speeches loomed large, prompting Joan to draft a detailed itinerary that allotted precise minutes for each segment. She allocated thirty minutes for the high‑school reunion’s opening remarks, followed by a fifteen‑minute icebreaker that encouraged alumni to share “most embarrassing moment” anecdotes, a tradition that always sparked laughter. Immediately after, the schedule called for a ten‑minute tribute to Mrs. Wilkes, delivered by her long‑time assistant principal, who would recount her impact on generations of students. The plan also included a “memory lane” walk, where guests could peruse a curated display of yearbook pages, class photos, and a timeline of Mrs. Wilkes’ career milestones, all while refreshments flowed. Megan, noting the importance of keeping the energy high, proposed that the final hour be reserved for dancing and a celebratory send‑off, complete with sparklers for the retirement portion and a nostalgic “class of ’01” banner unfurling at the climax, ensuring both groups felt equally celebrated.
By Forest Green5 days ago in Fiction
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