I. Prayer
I glanced out the back of the plane, triple checking the parachute in my hands. Gregor laughed at me as he watched. The man would follow me to the Fire Cavern even if I fell to the Madness, but with him and the rest of the men respect on the battle field and respect in private were about as different as night and day. On the battle field I was queen, a harsh ruler that saw fairness as what she decreed it, but in private I was their best friend’s sister—his younger sister who wasn’t allowed to flirt with anyone they didn’t approve of (which was pretty much anyone who wasn’t a Breaker).
I didn’t m
1: Grackle’s Diner
It was a small little diner on the outskirts of town by a road very few people used. Over the years it had been given a homier feel with a few vases here and there, mirrors and pastel paintings on the walls and an old grandfather clock on the far wall by the bathroom hall. Still, it couldn’t escape the diner-charm with its cheap faux-leather cushioned booths and wooden chairs around old linoleum-topped tables, or its arcade nook. Most of the staff described it as a diner masquerading as a bed and breakfast, and poorly at that.
On a rainy day like today it wasn’t uncommon for it to be completely empty, but
Dragonlords of Karaton 1 by DoorTraveler, literature
Literature
Dragonlords of Karaton 1
The White King’s army collided with that of the Dark Prince during the in the last year of the Age of the Two Kingdoms. The Plague, as the Prince’s army was then known, swept down the north side of the Fire Nest Mountains three hundred men against five thousand. The Northern Army, the last stand for free men, was destroyed, and in honor of their struggle against the darkness, the land grew white blossoms over the dead. It was a war to be known as Whitefall, but time and memory forgot this battlefield—legend placing it nearer to coast. The land however, did not. Earth always remembers.
The Age of the Dark Prince came and pass
Dragonlords of Karaton - Prologue by DoorTraveler, literature
Literature
Dragonlords of Karaton - Prologue
The night was dark the stars and moon taking refuge behind the clouds to shield themselves from the atrocities below. Torchlight moved through the trees, the crunch and swish of the brush awaking the parents in their small cabin. The father threw off the covers, the mother running for the small child sleeping in the next room. She shushed the child, the father draping a heavy coat around them, looking anxiously toward the noise.
The mother and child were hurried through the door into the night, the father staying behind to answer the rude knock on their front door. The mother hurried through the trees, pausing only to stare in horror at the
A cry of alarm ricocheted between Jake’s ears like a pinball between bumpers. “Katie?” he called out into the trees where she had departed not a minute before. When no answer came, he stood up and calmly walked in her direction. She had probably stumbled onto a small animal or something. Katie rarely left her house and had no pets, so it wouldn’t surprise him if a squirrel caught her by surprise. When he finally got her out of that messed up atmosphere, he’d definitely introduce her to the rest of the world so she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. “Katie, where are you?” he asked and heard a muffled r
The drop of water collided with the opaque glass lid sealing away the world. The sound it produced was nothing but a small DAP, and yet the occupant below the sky looked up as the noise dripped down to him to rest in the dirt he laid on as it should have—if the sky had not prevented it. His pale face was darkened by crisscrossed shadows of the bars protecting the foggy sky. DAP. DAP-DAP-DAP. DAPDAPDAPDAPDAPDAPDAPDAP. The noise grew into a roar of a thousand tiny fingers tapping the sky for attention it would not give.
His blue eyes held a memory of what the sky used to be, but they dropped it into the dirt where the water couldn’
Choice Illusion: Dark Twins {--} by DoorTraveler, literature
Literature
Choice Illusion: Dark Twins {--}
The Haywire Bar was a piece of shit. A while back, before the riots and the beginning of the political conflict and consequent civil unrest, it was known for its intelligent patrons, drunk-whisperer bartender and the pool tournament that went on year round. It was a place for people to be people and forget whether you were a Suit or a Uniform. And then some such politician was assassinated by whichever party, and people took sides, leaving everyone who didn't give a rat's ass stuck in the side pockets waiting for society to sort itself out.
And down the quality of the Haywire Bar fell. The neighborhood turned into a canvas for graffiti, pro
Preshow
There are two foundations for existence: Fact and Truth.
Fact: a door is always a door (even when it's ajar, despite what the comedic community likes to believe). A door can only lead to two connecting places. It cannot, let's say, connect your bedroom to an alternative dimension where humans are born from falling stars. And, as it is 2007 on Earth, it cannot teleport you from your house to a pirate ship sailing the Nine Seas of Avalon. A door can also not be considered a door when it is without a frame. Once a door is open it can only lead to the place it shows, and when it is closed it cannot (under any circumstances) change dest
2015; not ten minutes into my senior year of high school and I was staring at Cassie and not hearing a word she was saying. My thoughts were drowning out the details of her news, knowing the details didn't matter because somehow somehow it all lined up. All I had was disbelief: He was always kind to me. It was a child's thought, but it was the loudest of the ones racing around my head. And yet I couldn't say it out loud. I wanted to defend him, to tell her off and accuse her and her father for slander and she didn't know him! None of them did, not like I
And that was the thought that sent my mind combing through my memor
An explosion tortured the dying structure of the old school building, shattering glass in the lower windows and nourishing the cracks weaving their disease across the plaster ceiling. Rubble dropped away where the cracks met, threatening the floor with the falling sky. Gabrielle Fyllis watched anxiously with sea-green eyes as the plaster continued to split along a new fault line. Another blast like that, and the entire ceiling would probably collapse. They definitely had to get out the building soon. The sound of boots crunching on grit breached the silence, and she placed two fingers on her Contractor's Mark.
"Patronus," she whispered. The