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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy

Penelope...

It had been a long time since dragons had ruled the world but that didn't stop them from being smug youknowwhats. The smuggest of all was a dragon named Autolatry. Far to old to change his ways, Autolatry hadn't quite gotten used to the idea, or even entertained the idea, that people now ruled the known world. The idea just didn't suit his preferred order of things. He continued to burn villages to the ground, stealing princesses only sightly less obnoxious than himself; hiding them away from wannabe knights in high towers atop higher mountains.

But as with all great villains, an end to his evil ways was drawing nearer by the day. A hero, named Penelope (The man registering births that year had been rather deaf), was growing up in a small town; ruled by the single thought of rescuing the damsels from their high towers and slaying the dragon. Then one day, all grown up, rusting blade in hand, he had arrived at Autolatry's gate.

He knocked to no reply (his mother was big on manners), so quiet as a mouse, he snuck through the "open" gates, through the great hall to the place where Autolatry lay upon a bed of gold. Great snores rumbled through the hall, sleep was rare for dragon kind and when it hit, the sleep was deep and vast. With a sicker-snack Penelope parted Autolatry from his head. Not an eyelid flickered, not a noise was made. The dragon had been slayed!

Off he went, proclaiming to all, "The deed is done, dragon is dead!" Cheers echoed through the streets but fame I am afraid, did get the better of Penelope. He soon demanded a price be paid, for ridding the land of Autolatry. But greed grows if fed. Soon princesses were only returned upon payment... Economies collapsed under the weight of heavy taxations brought about to pay the might sums that were demanded; soon the land was beyond repair and the people beyond despair.

So history teaches us, that far too often, one villain is replaced by another and that evil comes in many forms. 

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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy
Penelope...
It had been a long time since dragons had ruled the world but that didn't stop them from being smug youknowwhats. The smuggest of all was a dragon named Autolatry. Far to old to change his ways, Autolatry hadn't quite gotten used to the idea, or even entertained the idea, that people now ruled the known world. The idea just didn't suit his preferred order of things. He continued to burn villages to the ground, stealing princesses only sightly less obnoxious than himself; hiding them away from wannabe knights in high towers atop higher mountains.

But as with all great villains, an end to his evil ways was drawing nearer by the day. A hero, named Penelope (The man registering births that year had been rather deaf), was growing up in a small town; ruled by the single thought of rescuing the damsels from their high towers and slaying the dragon. Then one day, all grown up, rusting blade in hand, he had arrived at Autolatry's gate.

He knocked to no reply (his mother was big on manners), so quiet as a mouse, he snuck through the "open" gates, through the great hall to the place where Autolatry lay upon a bed of gold. Great snores rumbled through the hall, sleep was rare for dragon kind and when it hit, the sleep was deep and vast. With a sicker-snack Penelope parted Autolatry from his head. Not an eyelid flickered, not a noise was made. The dragon had been slayed!

Off he went, proclaiming to all, "The deed is done, dragon is dead!" Cheers echoed through the streets but fame I am afraid, did get the better of Penelope. He soon demanded a price be paid, for ridding the land of Autolatry. But greed grows if fed. Soon princesses were only returned upon payment... Economies collapsed under the weight of heavy taxations brought about to pay the might sums that were demanded; soon the land was beyond repair and the people beyond despair.

So history teaches us, that far too often, one villain is replaced by another and that evil comes in many forms. 
#fantasy  #fiction  #adventure  #philosophy  #dragons 
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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction

Deranged Minds

A piece of gum had stuck to Thaddeus's shoe; long strands trailed up as he lifted his foot, and disgust flashed across his face.

The crime scene was a mess. Chewed gum littered almost every surface, empty bottles rattled around corners that hadn't been cleaned in decades and the smell of rotten food rose from the sink.

The body was neatly laid-out on a clean table; it was dressed in a tuxedo, pocket square perfectly folded and tucked into the pocket in a way that infuriated Thaddeus. He had spent ages trying to get his own kerchief to fold in the same way. He had long ago given up in favour of the disorganised spill of cloth that now adorned his chest.

Looking at that kerchief Thaddeus knew they were dealing with a deranged mind. 

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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction
Deranged Minds
A piece of gum had stuck to Thaddeus's shoe; long strands trailed up as he lifted his foot, and disgust flashed across his face.

The crime scene was a mess. Chewed gum littered almost every surface, empty bottles rattled around corners that hadn't been cleaned in decades and the smell of rotten food rose from the sink.

The body was neatly laid-out on a clean table; it was dressed in a tuxedo, pocket square perfectly folded and tucked into the pocket in a way that infuriated Thaddeus. He had spent ages trying to get his own kerchief to fold in the same way. He had long ago given up in favour of the disorganised spill of cloth that now adorned his chest.

Looking at that kerchief Thaddeus knew they were dealing with a deranged mind. 
#fiction  #horror  #mystery  #crime  #thriller 
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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi

Before His Time...

Gaius was very much a mad scientist before his time. Jars filled with liquids that bubbled hung from the ceiling as smoky torches dimly lit the room, revealing corners pilled high with broken pots that leaked ooze the glowed in sickly colours. In places the floor had started to melt.

But that was old hat! The remnants of the cosmic joke, the Elixir of Life. Sent by the gods to lead those in search of the truth away from their real potential! Gaius knew this now, he felt a fool but he also knew that he was at least less of a fool than his fellows. Still pottering around with their jars and mixtures. No! Time travel! That was the true way forward! Long ago he had come across a loophole in time, a way to travel to wherever, whenever he desired. But blinded but the shining lies of the gods he had not even looked into it at the time. Fool that he was... Now, in the center of the room a space had been cleared and five donkeys had been installed in a circle around an octagonal platform. If only he could get five donkeys to agree on a time and a place, time itself would be his to rule!

He had placed cards with carefully painted pictures in front of each donkey in the hopes of getting there thoughts cosmically aligned with the depicted place, the ancient city of Atlantis! Alas in true donkey like nature none of them agreed to even look at the drawings but rather turned all of their attention to the oats he had given them.

This he knew was going to be harder than he thought... But when he he managed to get there... boy would they see the error of their ways! Mad laughter rattled around the jars as the bubbled. 

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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi
Before His Time...
Gaius was very much a mad scientist before his time. Jars filled with liquids that bubbled hung from the ceiling as smoky torches dimly lit the room, revealing corners pilled high with broken pots that leaked ooze the glowed in sickly colours. In places the floor had started to melt.

But that was old hat! The remnants of the cosmic joke, the Elixir of Life. Sent by the gods to lead those in search of the truth away from their real potential! Gaius knew this now, he felt a fool but he also knew that he was at least less of a fool than his fellows. Still pottering around with their jars and mixtures. No! Time travel! That was the true way forward! Long ago he had come across a loophole in time, a way to travel to wherever, whenever he desired. But blinded but the shining lies of the gods he had not even looked into it at the time. Fool that he was... Now, in the center of the room a space had been cleared and five donkeys had been installed in a circle around an octagonal platform. If only he could get five donkeys to agree on a time and a place, time itself would be his to rule!

He had placed cards with carefully painted pictures in front of each donkey in the hopes of getting there thoughts cosmically aligned with the depicted place, the ancient city of Atlantis! Alas in true donkey like nature none of them agreed to even look at the drawings but rather turned all of their attention to the oats he had given them.

This he knew was going to be harder than he thought... But when he he managed to get there... boy would they see the error of their ways! Mad laughter rattled around the jars as the bubbled. 
#fantasy  #scifi  #fiction  #horror 
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Tell a story through a list: 1) It can be broken by numbers or bullet points or commas or something else. 2) It can be a collection or sequence or whatever you want. 3) Winner gets 50 coins.
Written by AWriter

The Ten Point Plan to a Happy Ending...

1. Find map...

2. Get sword/s

3. Get armour

4. Find cave marked on map

5. fight dragon/s

6. Not get eaten

7. Rescue princess

8. Woo princess

9. Marry princess

10. Live happily ever after

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Tell a story through a list: 1) It can be broken by numbers or bullet points or commas or something else. 2) It can be a collection or sequence or whatever you want. 3) Winner gets 50 coins.
Written by AWriter
The Ten Point Plan to a Happy Ending...
1. Find map...

2. Get sword/s

3. Get armour

4. Find cave marked on map

5. fight dragon/s

6. Not get eaten

7. Rescue princess

8. Woo princess

9. Marry princess

10. Live happily ever after
#fantasy  #fiction  #romance  #adventure 
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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy

The Travellers.

The first Traveller to arrive:

Beneath the vaulted ceiling of the forest eaves the trees talked of wonders lost for a thousand years, of wars fought against dark shadows with magic swords and mythical things forgotten by men. Yet there was not a soul to hear, slowly quietly, the voices dimmed as a hundred years, a thousand passed. Seasons turned until the blessed spring arrived with delicate flowers, all done up in pastel colours, bringing with it a traveller and his horse. Neither much caring where they were going, together Edward and his horse wandered where they may, simply taking joy from the wood's delight in spring. The horse munched fresh grass from around the roots of the trees as Edward greeted the trees friendly branches with laughter. 

A whisper rustled through the leaves, faint at first, the forest's voice almost forgotten. The horse pricked its ears and stopped. The traveller, sensing something had changed, holds his breath; was this the start of an adventure? Foolish hope twisted through his gut as the whisper, stronger now, tingled through the air. The man's eyes widen and a single breath is taken as secrets are whispered to longing ears; burning with a desire to learn, to hear, to know, as places long lost to the world spill across the traveler's inner eye as if they were a dream. 

Slowly sound and time returned, the evening sun spilled mellow light across the forest floor as the man looked to the trees with a thousand questions upon his lips. But no answers came and only silence met his pleading gaze. As he waited shadows filled the nooks and crannies of the forest. Lurking in those shadows was something more than just the darkness of the growing night. Foreboding filled his heart as fear settled over him. He turned the horses head towards the dying light and set off determined to beat the shadows rise.

With questions still ringing through his mind, he turned and gave the forest one last glance, the only way to find salvation, to find the answers needed to keep the darkness away, was to seek out power. He let his memory guide him to a place where power rested, awaiting a hand to wield it and in that forests quiet heart, hope for the return of day, lingered with the scent of spring.a

***

The first to fall:

Edward stood in a small clearing, far from any town, or any person. At his feet a set of crumbling stairs lead into the damp earth. He turned at a sound behind him, there stood his horse, chomping at the grass, the shadows were there too; dancing around the clearing, darkening the light and whispering of danger. The traveler dived down the stair, the only hope now was to reach whatever thing of power was hidden there. Only power would save him.

He dashed blindly through a maze, not caring which way he turned, the shadows biting at his heels. Hidden traps went snicker snack within the walls yet nothing stopped the growing danger. Fear tingled through every nerve, he ran until he came to a hall, dull with dust and remnants of fabric upon the walls. There an object lay upon a stone table, not a speck of dust had settled upon it's dark grey surface. The rough shape of a scepter, it was unassuming, yet power lurked below the surface. 

He felt them arrive, he turned around knowing that he would see the shadows weaving ever closer. His fear told him that his only hope was to reach the scepter first. He sprinted across the room, hand outstretched toward that which would save him from the dreadful fate that the shadows had in store for him.

As if in slow motion his fingers closed around the scepter and power, raw and unrefined pored through his body. The shadows paused, weaving in the air, then one by one they bowed before him. They begged and promised allegiance as Edward turned to face what he had before feared.

With a smile Edward twisted them into shapes that pleased him, "Why fear what is now mine to control?" he asked himself. 

With a command the Overlord led the way out of the hall into the graying day. With the power held within the scepter he would rule. He would rule over it all and bring to this land wonders like it had never seen before. 

In the forests heart, hope died as a breeze swept away the scent of spring.

***

A second traveller and a second chance:

The Shadows where after him. Althalus had hoped that if he entered the Forbidden Forest that they would leave him be. After all he had seen them turn away before at the forests edge.

Unfortunately it seemed they wanted him more than they feared the forest. Althalus stumbled in yet another snow drift, his legs numb with tiredness and cold. He lay on the ground trying to find the will to get up. He didn't know how long he had been running, long enough that all he felt was tired, the fear having been replaced by the need to just keep moving.

The silence was all about him now and a small bit of will to live, to fight another day against the Overlord and his shadows returned. With effort he recalled the dark empty houses of his small village, he at least had to get up for them, to remain the last one standing, proof that not every soul who had defied the Overlord had died.

With a muttered word he got up out of the snow drift and stumbled on. He did not see the steep slope in front of him. Suddenly his feet vanished from under him and he was rolling down the hill, a flash of white sky and dark bare branches were the last thing he saw.

Althalus opened his eyes and saw roots, there was also some snow and everything was cold, there were also no shadows and he was still alive. While the last two facts where oddities, he had never been one to look to closely at a gifted horse.

Whispers ruffled around him, it took him a moment to focus on what they were saying through the throbbing ache in his head. As the words became clear, his eyes widened, the very trees where speaking. They told him of a mistake made, of power corrupting absolutely, of hope lost. They also spoke of ways hidden and lost, ways to once again bring light again to the land. Althalus sat up, he looked at the dim light of midday and set his stubborn ways to a new course of action. He let go of the idea of revenge, his mission now was to bring the light back to just one place in the land.

Tired limbs shook as he stood, he turned towards the east, the very place the sun rose. It would be a long journey but he would find what he was looking for in the land of the sun. 

***

Return:

Althalus stood in an empty hall, in an empty town. It had been a long time since the last person had lived here, the low stone buildings were crumbling with age. He smiled, this was the perfect place to set things right, a forgotten town too be home to a forgotten freedom.

In his hand he held a sword, its power cut stray dust motes in half a good inch from the edge of the blade. With twirl of the sword, he took ahold of the power within, sweeping away the dust and ruin. He turned as the blade sang and walked out of the shifting and rumbling hall, through doors that were fabricating themselves out of nothing. 

He looked up at the dim sun and closed his eyes. The sword seemed to need to move, every swing, every turn releasing a little more power, its edge cutting through what was, too create what was wanted... with a final slice Althalus released the magic and slowly at first, light returned to the town. He knew that it wouldn't be long before word would reach the ear of the Overlord. He had not returned quietly. No, he had spread the word of where he was, of what he planned to do. He knew that it would take time before the first people arrived, but arrive they will as there were always those that hoped. 

With a shake of his head he turned and set about making the town ready for those few souls who would seek this place. 

***

The importance of light:

 As the second day dawned Althalus stepped outside to find the Overlord waiting at the foot of the stair. His back was turned, "Why are you challenging me?" his voice was odd, to loud yet too quiet.

Althalus started down the stairs as he answered, "You have embraced the dark you were meant to fight, you killed all who have questioned your power, your right to rule. Tell me, why I should not defy you?"

The Overlord turned and Althalus saw the madness in his eyes, "Because I am greater than you."

Althalus looked around at the early morning light, "Have you ever lit a candle?" He asked,

"What have candles got to do with this?"

"However great the dark may seem, however filled with fears and monsters, the light always chases it away. However small the flame."

In answer the Overlord commanded the Shadows to attack, but as soon as they touched the sunlight, they crumbled to nothing. Rage sparkled in his eyes as he lifted the scepter, power filled every part of his mind.

But to slow, to ruled by his power, Althalus had already thrown the magic blade, spinning like a throwing dagger, it pierced his hart. With a clatter the scepter fell, the power holding the shadows failed and they dashed away to hid in dark and secret places.

As Althalus stepped towards the fallen man, sadness filled his hart. He had known that this was how it was to end, the evil in the Overlords heart would not have allowed it to be any other way. Althalus gathered up his sword and looked at the fallen scepter. He had hoped to destroy it but such power radiated from it he knew that he would destroy more than just the scepter if he tried. Yet such a thing could not be allowed to live in the lands of men. 

With a twist of the sword he sent it safest place he could think of, a ocean that he had seen upon his travels. So deep in places that even the greatest seamonsters have not seen the ocean floor. Here he hoped no hand could touch it and the world would have the time it needed to banish the last of the shadows. 

A few could still be seen filtering through the air. But a candle had been lit and hope was there to chase the dark away.

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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy
The Travellers.
The first Traveller to arrive:
Beneath the vaulted ceiling of the forest eaves the trees talked of wonders lost for a thousand years, of wars fought against dark shadows with magic swords and mythical things forgotten by men. Yet there was not a soul to hear, slowly quietly, the voices dimmed as a hundred years, a thousand passed. Seasons turned until the blessed spring arrived with delicate flowers, all done up in pastel colours, bringing with it a traveller and his horse. Neither much caring where they were going, together Edward and his horse wandered where they may, simply taking joy from the wood's delight in spring. The horse munched fresh grass from around the roots of the trees as Edward greeted the trees friendly branches with laughter. 

A whisper rustled through the leaves, faint at first, the forest's voice almost forgotten. The horse pricked its ears and stopped. The traveller, sensing something had changed, holds his breath; was this the start of an adventure? Foolish hope twisted through his gut as the whisper, stronger now, tingled through the air. The man's eyes widen and a single breath is taken as secrets are whispered to longing ears; burning with a desire to learn, to hear, to know, as places long lost to the world spill across the traveler's inner eye as if they were a dream. 

Slowly sound and time returned, the evening sun spilled mellow light across the forest floor as the man looked to the trees with a thousand questions upon his lips. But no answers came and only silence met his pleading gaze. As he waited shadows filled the nooks and crannies of the forest. Lurking in those shadows was something more than just the darkness of the growing night. Foreboding filled his heart as fear settled over him. He turned the horses head towards the dying light and set off determined to beat the shadows rise.

With questions still ringing through his mind, he turned and gave the forest one last glance, the only way to find salvation, to find the answers needed to keep the darkness away, was to seek out power. He let his memory guide him to a place where power rested, awaiting a hand to wield it and in that forests quiet heart, hope for the return of day, lingered with the scent of spring.a

***
The first to fall:
Edward stood in a small clearing, far from any town, or any person. At his feet a set of crumbling stairs lead into the damp earth. He turned at a sound behind him, there stood his horse, chomping at the grass, the shadows were there too; dancing around the clearing, darkening the light and whispering of danger. The traveler dived down the stair, the only hope now was to reach whatever thing of power was hidden there. Only power would save him.

He dashed blindly through a maze, not caring which way he turned, the shadows biting at his heels. Hidden traps went snicker snack within the walls yet nothing stopped the growing danger. Fear tingled through every nerve, he ran until he came to a hall, dull with dust and remnants of fabric upon the walls. There an object lay upon a stone table, not a speck of dust had settled upon it's dark grey surface. The rough shape of a scepter, it was unassuming, yet power lurked below the surface. 

He felt them arrive, he turned around knowing that he would see the shadows weaving ever closer. His fear told him that his only hope was to reach the scepter first. He sprinted across the room, hand outstretched toward that which would save him from the dreadful fate that the shadows had in store for him.

As if in slow motion his fingers closed around the scepter and power, raw and unrefined pored through his body. The shadows paused, weaving in the air, then one by one they bowed before him. They begged and promised allegiance as Edward turned to face what he had before feared.

With a smile Edward twisted them into shapes that pleased him, "Why fear what is now mine to control?" he asked himself. 

With a command the Overlord led the way out of the hall into the graying day. With the power held within the scepter he would rule. He would rule over it all and bring to this land wonders like it had never seen before. 

In the forests heart, hope died as a breeze swept away the scent of spring.

***
A second traveller and a second chance:
The Shadows where after him. Althalus had hoped that if he entered the Forbidden Forest that they would leave him be. After all he had seen them turn away before at the forests edge.

Unfortunately it seemed they wanted him more than they feared the forest. Althalus stumbled in yet another snow drift, his legs numb with tiredness and cold. He lay on the ground trying to find the will to get up. He didn't know how long he had been running, long enough that all he felt was tired, the fear having been replaced by the need to just keep moving.

The silence was all about him now and a small bit of will to live, to fight another day against the Overlord and his shadows returned. With effort he recalled the dark empty houses of his small village, he at least had to get up for them, to remain the last one standing, proof that not every soul who had defied the Overlord had died.

With a muttered word he got up out of the snow drift and stumbled on. He did not see the steep slope in front of him. Suddenly his feet vanished from under him and he was rolling down the hill, a flash of white sky and dark bare branches were the last thing he saw.

Althalus opened his eyes and saw roots, there was also some snow and everything was cold, there were also no shadows and he was still alive. While the last two facts where oddities, he had never been one to look to closely at a gifted horse.

Whispers ruffled around him, it took him a moment to focus on what they were saying through the throbbing ache in his head. As the words became clear, his eyes widened, the very trees where speaking. They told him of a mistake made, of power corrupting absolutely, of hope lost. They also spoke of ways hidden and lost, ways to once again bring light again to the land. Althalus sat up, he looked at the dim light of midday and set his stubborn ways to a new course of action. He let go of the idea of revenge, his mission now was to bring the light back to just one place in the land.

Tired limbs shook as he stood, he turned towards the east, the very place the sun rose. It would be a long journey but he would find what he was looking for in the land of the sun. 
***
Return:
Althalus stood in an empty hall, in an empty town. It had been a long time since the last person had lived here, the low stone buildings were crumbling with age. He smiled, this was the perfect place to set things right, a forgotten town too be home to a forgotten freedom.

In his hand he held a sword, its power cut stray dust motes in half a good inch from the edge of the blade. With twirl of the sword, he took ahold of the power within, sweeping away the dust and ruin. He turned as the blade sang and walked out of the shifting and rumbling hall, through doors that were fabricating themselves out of nothing. 

He looked up at the dim sun and closed his eyes. The sword seemed to need to move, every swing, every turn releasing a little more power, its edge cutting through what was, too create what was wanted... with a final slice Althalus released the magic and slowly at first, light returned to the town. He knew that it wouldn't be long before word would reach the ear of the Overlord. He had not returned quietly. No, he had spread the word of where he was, of what he planned to do. He knew that it would take time before the first people arrived, but arrive they will as there were always those that hoped. 

With a shake of his head he turned and set about making the town ready for those few souls who would seek this place. 

***
The importance of light:
 As the second day dawned Althalus stepped outside to find the Overlord waiting at the foot of the stair. His back was turned, "Why are you challenging me?" his voice was odd, to loud yet too quiet.

Althalus started down the stairs as he answered, "You have embraced the dark you were meant to fight, you killed all who have questioned your power, your right to rule. Tell me, why I should not defy you?"

The Overlord turned and Althalus saw the madness in his eyes, "Because I am greater than you."

Althalus looked around at the early morning light, "Have you ever lit a candle?" He asked,

"What have candles got to do with this?"

"However great the dark may seem, however filled with fears and monsters, the light always chases it away. However small the flame."

In answer the Overlord commanded the Shadows to attack, but as soon as they touched the sunlight, they crumbled to nothing. Rage sparkled in his eyes as he lifted the scepter, power filled every part of his mind.

But to slow, to ruled by his power, Althalus had already thrown the magic blade, spinning like a throwing dagger, it pierced his hart. With a clatter the scepter fell, the power holding the shadows failed and they dashed away to hid in dark and secret places.

As Althalus stepped towards the fallen man, sadness filled his hart. He had known that this was how it was to end, the evil in the Overlords heart would not have allowed it to be any other way. Althalus gathered up his sword and looked at the fallen scepter. He had hoped to destroy it but such power radiated from it he knew that he would destroy more than just the scepter if he tried. Yet such a thing could not be allowed to live in the lands of men. 

With a twist of the sword he sent it safest place he could think of, a ocean that he had seen upon his travels. So deep in places that even the greatest seamonsters have not seen the ocean floor. Here he hoped no hand could touch it and the world would have the time it needed to banish the last of the shadows. 

A few could still be seen filtering through the air. But a candle had been lit and hope was there to chase the dark away.
#fantasy  #fiction  #adventure  #myth  #legend 
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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi

A Thousand Worlds

Day 1. This morning I started gardening. How could I have known the yard, filled with trees, compost heaps and lost rakes, was home to a thousand worlds. I have passed through several surreal landscapes and I can no longer see the house. I fear I am lost.

Day 2. I found a rake, I am hoping this means I am close to the house.

Day 3. I can see a corner of the porch, but there is a swamp between me and the house. Started making a raft.

Day 8. Raft done, the rake is a boon on this journey across the swamp, several things, purple, with too many eyes and goo oozing from fang-filled mouths, have tried to climb aboard.

Day 9. I reached the house! I lie on the cool porch; I can't believe I have returned. I vow to sell this place as soon as I can stand.

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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi
A Thousand Worlds
Day 1. This morning I started gardening. How could I have known the yard, filled with trees, compost heaps and lost rakes, was home to a thousand worlds. I have passed through several surreal landscapes and I can no longer see the house. I fear I am lost.

Day 2. I found a rake, I am hoping this means I am close to the house.

Day 3. I can see a corner of the porch, but there is a swamp between me and the house. Started making a raft.

Day 8. Raft done, the rake is a boon on this journey across the swamp, several things, purple, with too many eyes and goo oozing from fang-filled mouths, have tried to climb aboard.

Day 9. I reached the house! I lie on the cool porch; I can't believe I have returned. I vow to sell this place as soon as I can stand.
#scifi  #fiction  #adventure 
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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction

Cold

He leaned over the horses neck to avoid the low branches, reaching, grabbing, wishing to knock him to the muddy ground.

With a muttered word he looked ahead, waiting to see the lights of Ellville. A small town, known to only worst of the worst, lost souls all. Not a man in town could stand without the telling stoop of their shoulders, the weight of their choices too heavy to bear.

As he looked, the first twinkle of light could be seen through the trees. The promise of warmth and a place to rest does little to warm his heart; there he would find the men he was looking for. Finally justice would be done.

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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction
Cold
He leaned over the horses neck to avoid the low branches, reaching, grabbing, wishing to knock him to the muddy ground.

With a muttered word he looked ahead, waiting to see the lights of Ellville. A small town, known to only worst of the worst, lost souls all. Not a man in town could stand without the telling stoop of their shoulders, the weight of their choices too heavy to bear.

As he looked, the first twinkle of light could be seen through the trees. The promise of warmth and a place to rest does little to warm his heart; there he would find the men he was looking for. Finally justice would be done.
#fiction  #mystery  #flashfiction  #crime  #thriller 
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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by AWriter

A One Penny Thought...

Writing with knowledge is a very different thing, than writing from experience. The former being desired and the latter being a bane to readers. 

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Give us a little piece of your wisdom. Create your own proverb or quote. This is the quote you'll be remembered by, the quote that will go on fortune cookies and quote books, so make it a good one. 50 coins for the winner. Happy quoting!
Written by AWriter
A One Penny Thought...
Writing with knowledge is a very different thing, than writing from experience. The former being desired and the latter being a bane to readers. 

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Juice
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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction

Winning Streak

The tragedy that fell upon the hapless Edward was unusually horrid. Driver of the famous jockey Alfred; a scallywag and scoundrel. Edward had suffered his fair share of tragedy over the years, a former wannabe jockey himself, mostly in the form of awkward conversations with various authorities. Mostly because of Alfred.

But on day of the All Champs Cup, the race of the year, the crowning glory of every jockeys career, Alfred was passed out drunk in Edwards car. Edward rushed to the stables to find someone, anyone. Using Alfred’s identification had seemed like a grand idea until the moment that the owners found him crossing the yard. With phrases like “Oh jolly good that we found you!” and “Be a dear and hurry up”, several grooms got him into a set of silks faster than fast. They must have thought him drunk, the more he said he wasn’t Alfred the more knowing looks and “Indeed sir?”’s there were. Before long Edward was mounted up and at the starting line.

However there was a reason he was a driver and not a jockey, a fearful allergy to horses! Already a sneeze was tickling the tip of his nose, before long great big sneezes were going to start racking his body uncontrollably. Just as the gates opened up, the first sneeze hit, eyes streaming, snot dribbling, Edward was away.

Startled by the sounds, Winning Streak ran the race of his life, quickly overtaking the competition. Cheers roared from the stands as the finish line drew closer. Until the final sneeze, the biggest one yet, hit poor Edward just three paces before the finish line sweeping him out of the saddle. Winning Streak won, however as per the rules, the jockey must accompany the horse across the finishing line.

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Written by AWriter in portal Flash Fiction
Winning Streak
The tragedy that fell upon the hapless Edward was unusually horrid. Driver of the famous jockey Alfred; a scallywag and scoundrel. Edward had suffered his fair share of tragedy over the years, a former wannabe jockey himself, mostly in the form of awkward conversations with various authorities. Mostly because of Alfred.

But on day of the All Champs Cup, the race of the year, the crowning glory of every jockeys career, Alfred was passed out drunk in Edwards car. Edward rushed to the stables to find someone, anyone. Using Alfred’s identification had seemed like a grand idea until the moment that the owners found him crossing the yard. With phrases like “Oh jolly good that we found you!” and “Be a dear and hurry up”, several grooms got him into a set of silks faster than fast. They must have thought him drunk, the more he said he wasn’t Alfred the more knowing looks and “Indeed sir?”’s there were. Before long Edward was mounted up and at the starting line.

However there was a reason he was a driver and not a jockey, a fearful allergy to horses! Already a sneeze was tickling the tip of his nose, before long great big sneezes were going to start racking his body uncontrollably. Just as the gates opened up, the first sneeze hit, eyes streaming, snot dribbling, Edward was away.

Startled by the sounds, Winning Streak ran the race of his life, quickly overtaking the competition. Cheers roared from the stands as the finish line drew closer. Until the final sneeze, the biggest one yet, hit poor Edward just three paces before the finish line sweeping him out of the saddle. Winning Streak won, however as per the rules, the jockey must accompany the horse across the finishing line.
#fiction 
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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi

It Appeared on a Monday

The shed had appeared on a Monday. Howard had gotten up, fixed his normal mug of tea and wandered outside to greet the world as he did everyday, rain or shine.

It took a moment for him to work out that something was different. But then it clicked. The shed, it was back. Slowly Howard approached and stopped but the old warped door.

"I quite like it here." He said, titling his head as if listening to an answer only he could hear.

"I wish to stay." Again he stopped and listened.

"I know..." He said looking down at his mug, he really was going to miss tea. With a sigh he opened the shed door and stepped through. There was a flash of light and the glass rattled in the windows then all was still and a mug of tea sat cooling on the worn table in the shed. 

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Written by AWriter in portal Sci-Fi
It Appeared on a Monday
The shed had appeared on a Monday. Howard had gotten up, fixed his normal mug of tea and wandered outside to greet the world as he did everyday, rain or shine.

It took a moment for him to work out that something was different. But then it clicked. The shed, it was back. Slowly Howard approached and stopped but the old warped door.

"I quite like it here." He said, titling his head as if listening to an answer only he could hear.

"I wish to stay." Again he stopped and listened.

"I know..." He said looking down at his mug, he really was going to miss tea. With a sigh he opened the shed door and stepped through. There was a flash of light and the glass rattled in the windows then all was still and a mug of tea sat cooling on the worn table in the shed. 
#scifi  #mystery  #Monday  #aliens  #thriller 
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