15 results - showing 1 - 15
Buried deep within Ancient Egypt, on an island not easily accessible, a holy place had been built for the gods. The structure stood proud and tall, majestic and threatening at once – both a warning and invitation to the mortals on the other shore. The outer temple court was wide, with a mix of stand and battered stone making up the ground.
A woman walked the shores, bare feet in the sand. She wore an ivory tunic, which wrapped her body like a second skin. Long, black hair flowed down to her waist, framing the face of an angel. As she turned her profile to the moon, its light reflected off the headdress she was wearing, in the shape of a throne.
The swamp fairy hovered, her delicate wings fanning the air, making soft swooshing noises. She waited for the amber-haired girl to approach. A mixture of the scents of lavender, patchouli, and sandalwood, wafted through the glade.
Most people would call our existence strange, but this is more than that, this deserves a headline. We’re not spectacular enough to feature on the national or international news, but we warranted a column in the local newspaper headed by seven not so lucky words: Missing Father Returns After Weird Aging Phenomenon. I’m glad that our short-lived fame died and the paparazzi, (what a joke,) got bored with us.
You may think this story takes place once upon a time, but you may be mistaken. Beyond our solar system, beyond our galaxy even, there are other worlds inhabited by beings very much like us. On some worlds, they have advanced so far beyond us.
I was never a scared girl. I never worried about things which went bump in the night but standing in front of this door, I could feel an awareness I had not known before making a connection to things yet unknown.
“This is An-Men Ten-Ar. The next stop is An-Men gate historical monument” flashed the indicator signs all over and across the light rail cars following an almost invisible monorail along the streets of the capitol city of Hejing. On the outside of the twelve light rail cars making up this particular train flashed the train line indicator, “An-Men Xi Fang.” As the light rail slowed to its stop called An-Men Ten-Ar, a well-dressed house Ten-Ar professional wearing a blue doublet over a green kirtle and trousers emerged from the fourth car, along with a few dozen other commuters, the emblem of Beinarian healers embroidered on his doublet.
Tommy Bailey kept watch out the rear window of the mail truck. They weren’t being followed—not yet, anyway. Beside him, Careen Catecher clutched her phone, brow furrowed, as she read aloud from PeopleNet’s news feed.
The fire alarm's wail ceased abruptly, and Careen Catecher's rapid, shallow breathing fogged up the oxygen mask that covered her face. Velcro straps and a neck brace immobilized her on the rescue backboard as two grim-faced paramedics rushed her gurney through the rubble inside the demolished building. Her whole body began to shake as they emerged into the cold night air.
Did you know that it’s possible to own a ghost? Well, we do. She arrived in a Victorian trunk that my wife and I purchased not too long ago, and her name is Mary. Currently, she exists in her camelback trunk on our carport here in Georgia.
When the witching hour hits and sleep dies, one’s mind can take total control of the 3 AM insomniac. On this particular early morning, my brain screamed, "Think back George. Remember the Shenandoah Valley, Washington, D.C. and all the sites, the Smithsonian, the Naval Academy and time to pray, New York City, Radio City Music Hall, The Rockettes, Central Park, the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, all those Yellow Cabs like ants below us, Chinatown, Little Italy, Times Square, the climb up into the brains of the Statue of Liberty.
In ten days, Thanksgiving 2016 would be a wrap. For one metro Atlanta family, this meant two of three sisters had less than a day to decide whether or not to be at their parent's table for the feast. The oldest sister, Glenda, would be there, showcasing her new love interest.
With his last breath, a child and a story are born. They would become one. James Blade of Spokane, Washington has died.
I smile broadly all the way home from school. There is a skip in my step and a song in my heart, and it feels as if my life is on track, everything is perfect and nothing could ever change how I feel - nothing at all.
'No, no, no!' Matica screamed out from the time they had seen it. She had hoped not to see it so early, especially while laying on Talon and trying to fly home. 'It can't be. Not so early. Not now.'
15 results - showing 1 - 15