Fable
The Dragon
Mossbark was hungry, as he always was. He walked through the forest, treading through pools of sunlight falling through the soaring pines and fir trees. Mossbark knew each one, had seen them rise from tiny green infanthood to the towering kings that they were now. They had risen as the years passed and many had fallen, yet Mossbark was there and did not grow with them. His feet traveled on their own accord, each stone and stem familiar after the long years. His mind was on food, on the hollow emptiness at his core and on the silver fish that swam in the pool in the meadow. Mossbark padded through the trees on cat-quiet feet and swam through the dense sea of green ferns, his scaly hide a mere whisper in the forest stillness. Though he was bigger than a full-grown male wolf, his passage disturbed none of the inhabitants of the forest. He was Mossbark, the guardian of the Wood and the Pool and the Meadow and all the creatures who made their homes there knew him and despite his claws and mouth full of needle-sharp teeth, they did not fear him. He was Mossbark and he had always been there, as much a part of the forest as rocks in the earth or the cones on the trees.
By N.H. Ritschard3 years ago in Fiction
The Hunter
If, preceding your picking this story, you have preconceived about what this story may be about, I’ll ask you to please place them aside. This tale is not to be taken lightly for no one could prepare themselves for what will take place henceforth. I was given no such warning before my life was turned upside down by the most peculiar and frightening events. My journey is not one to be read by those of weak disposition, so if you are unable to continue than I implore you to put the book down and walk away.
By Jedidiah Johnson3 years ago in Fiction
The King's Heir
Well, this was a true puzzle… The dragon had known something was afoot when the parents had set this little scrap of a human down in the meadow. They had left it on a blanket with a lunch of apples and bread, and then told it to stay put until they came back. But the way they had left, without turning back to wave to the little one, with hurried whispers between each other, had left the dragon with an uncomfortable feeling.
By Marie Lafranque3 years ago in Fiction
Hearth and Guidance
The sound of children gathered around a glorious campfire echoed in the starry night. One could sense their excitement as they sat within earshot of a blind old man who smiled at the fire as if looking at a loved one. Everyone, even adults, rallied around, knowing their time with this wise grandfather figure was limited. Not because they were worried he would pass away (although, because of his long beard, withering strength, and an overall sense of eternal peace, some did genuinely believe it was past his eternal bedtime) but because he came but once a year to this small village deep in the forest, miles away from the nearest kingdom and only told one story before picking up his humble belongings and moving on. He had been doing this for about a decade now, every year without fault or pause, he rested around the fire on the eve of Spring, always with a new story to tell. Because of this routine, the kids grew up hearing his fantastical stories once a year, yearning for more and had affectionally nicknamed him Grampa Tales.
By Matias Costa3 years ago in Fiction
