Folk Tales

“Hello?” Calling out into the shrouds of fog, she should know better than that. Every child knows to ignore the voices you hear in the woods. Nursemaids will still spin tales of will-o'-wisps and nixies and aes sídhe, fey tricksters that will happily take your hand and lead you to perdition. But there is something about this voice that sounds familiar. Something that turns her blood to ice water.

By Echo Sounds, May 22, 2020.

An adrenaline junkie, danger had always been like an aphrodisiac to him, the more extreme the better. Now he lay in the hospital wing, his collar bone jutting awkwardly through his skin, white, shiny, broken. Pain-killers, bandages, guaze. Regret. Sun streaming through dirty windows, thin curtains waft in the drafty ward.

By angela, March 5, 2012.

The truth is, no one thought about it, not even when they went fishing in the lake that the dam had created. In the valley below, the houses were built, and the community sprang up, with an elementary school, playgrounds, and stores. The dam was there, standing proud holding back tons of water. Everyone in the valley saw it every day, but they didn't see it at all. It was a part of the sky, the trees, and the landscape. Business went on as usual and the families lived their lives. The holidays came and went in a steady flow. Children played on the playground, and the older ones played soccer so “soccer moms” could get vans. One maintenance man reported the tiny crack after a morning inspection, his supervisor was on the cell with his ex. “Don’t’ worry about the dam. Probably nothing,” he said, and returned to his heated conversation. Next day, April 16th at exactly 11:43 a.m., everyone thought about the dam. For the next 56 minutes, it was all anyone could think about.

By wmack99, February 24, 2015.

Bill McDonald.


In the barely lit tunnel hemmed in by the perfect arching sandstone walls there is something almost gleaming ahead. It isn't giving out light, more like it catches it at certain angles and reflects a brownish red hue. Steven laughs, "It's art! Look, it's just copper wire bent in flowers and spirals." But Gabby isn't convinced and her tone is brusque as ever.

"Stand back." She shines her beam high and low, near and into the distance, then she stands, grim faced. No-one says anything, this for the most part is how Gabby always looks. "There's a power source ahead, small but high tech, it's no AA battery." We all take a step backwards from the pretty copper wire, it's as beautiful as a samurai sword and just as deadly.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2015.

To any outsider it would have looked like an act of caring. A nurse giving a pill to a patient. But Jerry knew what was in it, he knew it would kill him in a way that looked like a natural death, that's what they did to anyone who's ideas threatened revolution. A trumped up illness, taken in for care, given pills until they died. That little pill was more danger to him than a loaded gun to his head, at least the gun would be quick.

By james, October 16, 2014.