Fantasy
Imaginative scenarios, supernatural encounters, dream worlds
11 stories
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October 14th, 9:22 PM
The mahogany desk was cold against her thighs, a stark contrast to the internal temperature spike recorded at twenty-one hundred hours.
Silas’s Matchbook
My pulse was doing the same frantic dance it did during the 2008 Lehman collapse, all high-stakes panic and impending ruin.
Julian's Fountain Pen
He tasted like expensive Scotch and the kind of trouble that gets you disbarred, but I didn't care about my license just then.
Did You Ever Find the Way Back to Brattle Street?
The air in the shop tasted of ozone and cedar, a sharp contrast to the damp, gray smell of the Cambridge street outside.
Why Did You Press Your Mouth Against the Cold Stone?
The air in the cellar didn't just carry the scent of oak and fermenting fruit; it carried the literal weight of her heartbeat against my own ribs.
Kaelen’s Compass
You were the only thing in that humidity that didn't feel like a lie, even though I knew your skin was a curated illusion.
I Should’ve Just Sent a LinkedIn Request
He looked at me like I was a failing campaign he was personally assigned to turn around with a massive budget and no oversight.
—but the rain hasn't stopped since Tuesday
I touched the copper rim of the basin and felt a spark jump all the way to my tailbone, sharp as a needle.
Did You Think the Snow Would Save Us?
I am tracing the blue-black ink of the runes on your forearm and wondering if the ROI on this mistake is worth the fallout.
Wet Ash
I could feel the condensation from her glass dripping onto my thigh, a cold, sharp contrast to the way her thumb was tracing my hip.
Why Is Your Hand Still Shaking?
The taste of her anger was exactly like a burnt roux—bitter, clinging to the back of my throat, impossible to scrape away.