Tag Archives: monster

Jasper’s Lamp – Friday Fictioneers

copyright Dawn M. Miller

copyright Dawn M. Miller

Jasper’s Lamp

Great-grandmother

“Jasper left me the lamp. It had a glass globe underneath it, a single eyeball floating inside. Creepiest thing I’d ever seen. “Keep it warm!” he said. He never came back, for me, the lamp or his daughter.”

 Grandmother

“Mama gave me the lamp when I moved out. I had grown up with it, that little lump of flesh and two bulging eyes.”

 Mother

“I didn’t want it, but I took it. The curled-up monster inside freaked me out.”

 Me

“‘Its eyes just opened,’ my daughter screamed from the basement. Then she screamed again and I heard glass shatter.


Our Darling Swamp Monster, Part 3

This is the final installment of this story. It is told from the point of view of the swamp monster, Khip. The other two parts are: Part 1 and Part 2. Or, if you missed them but don’t have time to read them, here is the synopsis:

Gerardi, who lives next to the Forbidden Swamp finds a spiny, clawed, wide-eyed baby monster and takes it home. He and his wife Melanee raise it until they can’t afford to any longer and release it back into the swamp. Gerardi secretly feeds it anyway and later, starts stealing from his neighbor’s flock to feed it. He goes away for a month, only to return to find that the monster, Khip, has been killing lots of animals, even some people. He goes to find Khip and he leads Gerardi to his mother, a repulsive monster living deep under the ground.

Our Darling Swamp Monster, Part 3

I stand there in that in that nether-hell, partway between the splaying demon that claims to be my mother and the man, Gerardi, who raised me.

Kill him, the monster whispers in my mind. You came from my body long ago and you are mine. Kill him and bring him to me to feed on. I command you.

Curse her commands! It was because of that irresistible call that I brought my dear father here in the first place, as much as I wanted to keep him far away. But I have no voice to speak to him with, to warn him. I take a step towards him, my long claws digging convulsively into the hard dirt with the strain of my internal battle.

“Khip,” he says. That’s my name, the one he and my mother Melanee gave me. It means “special” and I love them for it. The hideous creature behind me who claims parentage over me has no name for me.

“Khip,” he says again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I caused trouble for all of us and maybe it would have been better if I had not taken you in. Everything is my fault.” I know the meaning of his words but I also see the meaning of his heart and see that he would do it all again if he had the chance.

Do it, the thing behind me whispers in my mind. Kill him now, I am hungry. He is not your father. You have no father.

In that moment, my hatred of the creature burns so hot that her hold on my mind loosens. In an instant, I leap forward and grab up Gerardi, my father, and crash towards the exit tunnel. I hear the repulsive brute behind me screaming her rage into my mind, but I keep going, climbing with hind claws and one arm, while the other carefully grasps my precious human to my scaly chest.

Outside, the night cacophony of the swamp wildlife fills my sensitive ears. I set Gerardi down gently.

“You saved me, Khip,” he said. “Thank you. What was that thing? Was it really your mother?”

No! I want to shout at him, but all I can do is grunt. I long to tell him how I wandered the swamp after I left his house and how her call drew me to her. I did not mind killing and bringing food for her, as long as Gerardi and Melanee were unharmed, but now from his mind I can see that even that has hurt them. There is nothing I can do for my dear parents but leave them.

“Khip, you have to leave this place,” Gerardi says and I see that he is crying. “The people will hunt you down and kill you. You need to get away to safety while there is time.”

Come with me! I want to say, but all that comes out is a more insistent grunt. He doesn’t understand. How is it that I can be so sensitive to his every thought and motivation, while he is so blind to mine?

Finally, I leave, crashing through the underbrush until I reach the water and splash into it. I can feel his grief behind me but my mind is concentrated on my own suffering. I am a monster of unholy seed, driven away from the only family I have ever known. A crocodile swims below me and in my pain and loss, I seize it and eviscerate it with one swipe of my claws.

All night I swim and splash until, just before dawn, I reach the sea. There, I dive deep and breath in new life from the stinging salt water. Only a few days pass before I am a legend of fear among the sea creatures.

I cannot feel the minds of my parents, my dear Gerardi and Melanee. Their minds are only two small lights in a mass of millions. The creature that bore me, I can still feel on the edge of my mind, although from this distance her alluring call is ineffective. I do not know if she can die, but I will wait and if that day does come and I am safe from her mastery forever, then I will return.

This isn't what Khip looks like, but it's the closest picture I could find [*]

This isn’t what Khip looks like, but it’s the closest picture I could find [*]


Our Darling Swamp Monster, Part 2

One day, on his way home from collecting willow bark and reeds, Girardi Kurst made a discovery in a steaming pocket of sludge. It looked at first like a shapeless bag of withered grey leather, but there was a creature inside that loose hide, one with spines and claws and large, wondering eyes. It was a monster but it was also a baby, and he was in a fix whether to leave it or kill it outright. In the end, he brought it home.

Our Darling Swamp Monster, Part 2

The village of Farensfen was gripped with fear as a unknown monster from the Forbidden Swamp slaughtered animals and people and destroyed property. No one had seen it in full light, but there were plenty of stories of its hideous appearance. Every household in the district had suffered loss from it, except for one: that of old Gerardi and Melanee Kurst. Naturally, suspicion had fallen on them, especially on Melanee, since Girardi had been away on a long trip when the attacks had started.

Gerardi could not sleep. There were murmurings in the village that his wife was a witch, who had summoned the monster. He worried about her safety, but he also worried about the safety of Khip, the monster that they had raised and then released back into the swamp when they could no longer afford to keep him.

Khip still loves us, he thought. He has to or he would have attacked us as well. Gerardi did not know if he could somehow convince Khip to go away and leave the area. Sleep refused to come and so finally, he got up and went out into the misty swamp night, a lantern in one hand and a cudgel in the other.

The swamp was full of the sounds of nocturnal life and the shifting, lurid lights of swamp gas and luminous plants. It was another world from its sleepy daylight existence. Now, even the darkness itself seemed alive.

There was a sudden splash and Girardi turned to see white teeth snapping at him in the glow of the lantern. He dodged aside and brought the cudgel down on the head of a huge caiman, stunning it. He killed it with another blow and then continued along the path.

Girardi had been born without fear. Melanee sometimes expressed her amazement that he was still alive, but even she admitted that it was a useful attribute when you lived on the border of the Forbidden Swamp.

He was walking without a plan, but unconsciously, he made his way to the place where he had found Khip’s egg the year before. He reached the clearing and found a trampled area under a large willow. It was full of bones and gore and was swarming with flies and small scavengers. A twig snapped behind him and he turned to see Khip standing at the edge of the clearing, watching him with purple eyes that glowed in the lantern light.

He had almost doubled in size in the months since Girardi had seen him last. He stood on two legs and his back bristled with new spines. His long, knobby hands held half a cow between blood-stained claws.

“Khip, it’s good to see you,” Girardi said and meant it. He wanted to rub his belly and chase him around like he’d done when Khip was a baby, but this was not the time. He was an adult now.

Khip gave a low grunt and set the dismembered cow on the ground. He stepped closer and then, with a tentative gesture, put a hand on the ground in front of Girardi and sat down. Girardi sat as well.

“Khip, this is all my fault,” he said. “I just wanted to feed you, but it seems I did too much. You have to stop killing animals, and especially people. I love you, but you have to go on, to another area. There are wild areas where you can live and hunt in peace. I’m afraid for you. Men will eventually come and they will hunt you.”

Khip looked steadily at him. Girardi had always believed he could understand him and had always spoken as such. Then the monster stood up with a bound and set off through the foliage. Gerardi followed him.

They walked for ten minutes before they left the trail and Khip started up the rocky hill that stood in the middle of the swamp. Halfway up, he reached a hole in the ground, and looking back once at Girardi, disappeared into it. Girardi followed him in without hesitating.

The hole went down steeply into the earth and was slick with mud and tangled with roots. Khip had evidently been here before; he moved quickly downwards, but the walls and roots showed the violence that past trips had inflicted.

The tunnel began to fill with a fetid odor much stronger than the normal swamp smell. It was a stench of decay and something much sweeter and more deadly, it seemed to Girardi. Several hundred feet down, it ended in a large room lit dimly with luminous mushrooms. At one end crouched a monstrosity unlike anything outside of a fevered nightmare. It was in form similar to Khip, although bloated and expanded so that it could not move. For the first time in his life, Girardi had an idea of fear, although even now it was more of a distant realization that a gruesome death was close by.

A voice came from the nightmarish creature. “You have aided my son and for this I thank you. But now, you must die.”

(to be continued)


Our Darling Swamp Monster

Every now and then, my friend Sharmishtha posts the beginning of a story for others to complete, if they wish. I do them sometimes and this is one of them. I have taken the main idea, but changed it slightly. Here is her original prompt:

Late at night they could hear his roar, at a distance. They still remember when that little bundle of fur landed in their life, mother killed by a poacher, two cubs left to perish. It was their sheer luck that a woodcutter found them. How they struggled to keep him warm and alive, the second one perished hours after being rescued.

How hard it was for them to decide that they will have to let him go. The sleepless nights they passed after his release. Now… they miss him but are happy for him.

Now, here’s my story:

 

Our Darling Swamp Monster

They didn’t call it the Forbidden Swamp for nothing, although the worst that Gerardi had ever found there were will-o-the-wisps and exploding swamp gas. But then one day, on his way home from collecting willow bark and reeds, he made a discovery in a steaming pocket of sludge. It looked at first like a shapeless bag of withered grey leather, but there was a creature inside that loose hide, one with spines and claws and large, wondering eyes. It was a monster but it was also a baby, and he was in a fix whether to leave it or kill it outright. In the end, he brought it home.

His wife Melanee was taken with it right away and they name it Khip, which meant “special” in their language. They kept it in a box by the fire, until the heat burned it. Then they kept it in the barn for the next year until it started killing the goats. It had lived on pulped poisonroot, but now it would only eat raw meat and soon, they could not afford to keep it. So, Gerardi sorrowfully took Khip out into the swamp and let it go.

*         *         *

“I wonder if he’s hungry,” Melanee said. It had been a month since Khip had gone.

“Stop asking that,” Gerardi said. “He can take care of himself out there. You shouldn’t worry about him.”

“I know, but I miss him,” she said.

“I miss him too. Let me go out and take care of the animals. I’ll be back soon.” He went out and fed the goats and other animals. Then, he retrieved the half a goat he had saved from when he had killed it a week ago. He carried it out to the edge of the swamp and placed it where he had put food every week since he had let Khip go. The meat always disappeared and he recognized Khip’s distinctive tracks in the soft dirt.

He knew it could not continue like this forever. Just to get him settled, he thought, but that is what he had said for the first week and he was still bringing food out to the edge of the swamp. Just a little more.

Soon he realized he had to stop. He did not have enough goats to sacrifice one every two weeks and if he continued, he would soon not have enough to expand the herd. So, one dark night he snuck up to his neighbor’s house and stole a goat. His neighbor had ten times more goats than Gerardi did. After this, he went and stole a goat every two weeks from his neighbor and then listened sympathetically as the man complained bitterly about goat thieves and wild animals.

Once a year, Gerardi made a trip to the capital to trade his medicinal herbs and other swamp products for things they needed. It was a long trip, almost two weeks each way and so just before he left, Gerardi stole two goats from his neighbor. One he killed and left in the usual spot, while the other, he killed and left a trail of blood leading back towards his neighbors house. He left the other dead goat nearby. This way, he thought, Khip could go get his own goats if for some reason Gerardi was late and missed bringing him his food.

The trip was a success and Gerardi returned with many beautiful and necessary things. However, he found the area in an uproar when he returned. “There is a monster lurking in the swamp,” people said. “All sorts of animals have gone missing.”

Gerardi hurried home and was relieved to find everything in order and his wife healthy. Still, not everything was fine.

“It has been terrible, the last few weeks,” Melanee said, holding his hand. “It has to be Khip doing all this, but still I’m afraid for him. Also, people have noticed that we are untouched, even though we live on the edge of the swamp. They are becoming suspicious.”

The next day, Gerardi went into the village, where he heard more news of the attacks. “It was mostly animals at first,” they said, “but now, a couple of people have gone missing too and old Ramses’ barn was ripped to bits. It’s the work of a monster.”

Most people were glad to see Gerardi back, but not everyone. He got some strange looks and questions about his wife and if they had lost any property. He lied and said they had, but still, it was clear that some people suspected Melanee of somehow being behind everything. He was leaving the market when he heard the word witch rise out of a conversation behind him. It was a terrifying word.

(to be concluded soon)


Bruno Knew – Friday Fictioneers

Happy New Year everyone! A Friday Fictioneers story is a good way to start the new year. I don’t like to put much significance on the first story of the year, especially since this one is rather dark. Hopefully it won’t be a portent of the upcoming year. Also, there is a bit of swearing in it, just so you’re warned. I don’t usually put swearing in my stories, but it seemed this one needed some. You can judge for yourself after you read it.

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Bruno Knew

“Grant! The dog’s gone crazy! Stupid dog, too lazy even to get up to eat, today he’s barking his head off. Shut up, Bruno! Shut up! You wanna go out? Fine. Look at him go. Ho— Ho . . . ly . . . shit! Grant! Gra-ant! Come see this. Bruno just climbed the tree! Oh shit, Grant, the floor’s moving! There’s earthworms coming through the linoleum. Ahh! They’re in my feet, in my feet! I can’t move. Dear God, help! Grant, where are you? Where are you? These ain’t earthworms!”

Outside, Bruno’s frenzied barking failed to keep the probing tendrils at bay. He climbed higher.

 


Guardian – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

I’m back in the blogging world again. I’ve been quite busy/tired/distracted for the last few weeks, but I hope to do more blog writing and reading in the future.  This story is rather dark, but I meant it to have a glimmer of hope at the end. I hope that is how you take it.

copyright Alastair Forbes

copyright Alastair Forbes

Guardian

“What’s that?” I asked my father, when I was five.

“Our family crest.” His deep voice echoed through the long passageway.

“No, above it.”

“The guardian,” he said, turning quickly and starting to walk away.

“It’s scary.”

“Quiet!” He turned so forcefully on me that I bit back a cry.

From that day on, I never asked again; never told when the thing lurking over our shield began appearing in my dreams.

I tried to take it down as a teenager. My father caught me and beat me. I saw then that he was afraid, and there was fawning obeisance in his touch as he carefully replaced it on the wall.

I did nothing when my mother died, when my sister went insane, when my father drank himself to death, but I felt that dark presence looming more and more over the now quiet house.

The night my younger brother died—falling down the stairs—I tried to smash our precious guardian, but my courage failed and I fled.

A friend once told me that if the devil exists, then God must exist as well.

I hope he is right: my search becomes more and more desperate as I feel the darkness growing around me once more.

 


The Lure of Dark Gully – Visual Fiction

 

Dark Gully

The Lure of Dark Gully

Stay away from Dark Gully, when the wind is rising in banshee shrieks and tearing at rocks and trees like a vengeful demon of the night.

Stay away when you hear the small coaxing voice come through the maelstrom, telling you to come closer; telling you there is shelter from the storm in the narrow knife-slash in the cliff face.

Flee when you see the faint glow dancing on the tips of the waves, moving slowly to the shore to rest on the storm-slick rocks.

Flee when the tiny glowing balls of mesmerizing ether begin to coalesce into a form that rises out of the surf and takes a step onto the shore.

Despair when the figure holds out its hand and you take a staggering step towards it, all warnings and common sense blown away by the gale.

Despair as your foot steps into the stinging, foam-flecked wave and you are led, unresisting, out to the place where waves pound and rocks break and life is sucked away like a match tossed into the dark abyss of space.

So when the wind rises in the east; when the waves begin their tramping march up the rocks of the beach; when the sky darkens in an ominous light, stay away.


Room 306 – Friday Fictioneers

Copyright Kent Bonham

Copyright Kent Bonham

Room 306

screams the screams room 306 fumbled with keys door opened blue walls all blue splashed with red thing at the window thing at the window green all green girl on the bed red so red thing jumped off didn’t fall didn’t hit the ground flew away mary mary on the bed so red not moving my special girl mary mr keller came called police i didn’t do it thing at the window all green did it not me but now I’m here white all white walls no red still at night I see room 306 special girl mary screams

screams


A Night of Loss and Grief – Fantastic Travelogue #14

Sometimes you have some amazing adventures you just have to tell everyone about. Read the rest of this account here.

Synopsis: I was hiking in the mountains of Korea when I got lost at night and came out in a strange valley. I couldn’t understand anyone, but I found out they knew Chinese characters. I met a young woman name Ain-Mai, and later, her brother Sing-ga. While I was there, a creepy woman appeared. Ain-Mai and her brother told me that the creepy woman was named Hengfel and came from another world. Hengfel eventually captured all three of us and brought us back to her world. They separated us, but Sing-ga and I got out and rescued Ain-Mai, although I got quite injured in the process. We took shelter in the air vents. Sing-ga went to find water, while Ain-Mai bandaged me and took care of me. Sing-ga finally came back, bleeding badly and very injured.

Night of Great Loss

I had never seen anyone die before, but I was there, kneeling next to Sing-ga when he died. I heard his breath catch, as if he were choking on something and then it just stopped. I kept waiting for him to breath again, but he didn’t. Ain-Mai, on his other side, was starting to become frantic. She was hyperventilating and shaking him, calling his name. Finally, I reached out and touched her arm and she wilted, her arms falling down to her sides.

In the faint light of the moon and stars that was coming in through the opening, I could see that Sing-ga’s arms and face were covered with circular bites. If he had been attacked, how had he gotten away? And could there be things that were still looking for him? I wanted to get away, but I wasn’t sure where to go and I was in no shape to travel.

A light, skittering sound came from up the tunnel. Ain-Mai didn’t seem to notice. She was smoothing back her brother’s hair and crying softly.

“We should go,” I said. She paid no attention.

Something the size of a dinner plate flew out of the darkness at me. All I saw were thin, clawed legs outstretched towards me before the thing wrapped itself around my arm and I felt the sharp pain of it biting into my flesh. I shouted in terror and ripped it off, hurling it savagely out through the grating and into open space. More came leaping at me and I fought them off desperately, pure adrenaline overcoming the pain of my injuries. From what I could tell, they were like huge spiders, with clawed legs and a sharp-toothed mouth in the middle of their body. Even now, I sometimes have nightmares about those horrors jumping out of the darkness at me.

Mouth spider

One got caught in Ain-Mai’s hair. She screamed, but it roused her to action and she fought back, lashing out at the monsters when they jumped at her.

“We have to go!” I shouted, not caring that she couldn’t understand me. I started to move in the only direction that was open to us, out the opening and onto the sheer outer side of the tower. I hesitated when it came to actually stepping out of the opening and onto the rough plates of the outer wall, and it was Ain-Mai who took the lead and held out her hand for me to come out.

I had just taken her hand when one of leaping spider-mouths latched onto my shoulder and bit in deeply. I writhed to get it off and felt myself slipping. Ain-Mai pulled me back to the wall and reached down to rip the vile creature off my shoulder. It gave a thin cry as it disappeared into the darkness far below us.

I did not wait to see if more were following us but gripped Ain-Mai’s hand and followed her along the ridges of the wall. They stuck out at an angle from the wall and were easy to hold onto, but they were also irregularly shaped. My right foot was bandaged and extremely sore, so I hopped along on my left.

The spider-mouths didn’t follow us out. I thought this was strange until I remembered poor Sing-ga’s body lying just inside the tunnel. I was sick with horror, but it came out as anger. I shuffled along, swearing under my breath, spitting out profanities with every hop. I’m not even sure who I was angry at: at the spider-mouths; at Hengfel for bringing us to that terrible place; at myself for getting Sing-ga and Ain-Mai caught with me and in doing so, causing his death. I was thankful for the calming effect of Ain-Mai’s hand in mine, which kept me from doing anything stupid.

We came to a hollow in the outer wall a minute later, which was fortunate because I could not have gone on much longer in my condition. It was probably a dragon nest at one point, but it was deserted and we collapsed into it. I put my back against the stone wall and tried to regain my strength and calm my mind. Ain-Mai slumped down by my side, sobbing. I put my arm around her and she drew closer.

Night of Great Loss

Ten minutes later, she had quieted and lay still against me. I had my eyes closed when I felt her stir. The next thing I felt were her lips on mine. She was kissing me in a quick, breathless way, not romantically, but as someone desperately needing comfort in the midst of despair.

For a moment, it was as if time stopped and the Choice stood in front of me. We were alone together in an alien world. Ain-Mai had just lost her brother and was overwhelmed with grief. She needed me. As for myself, I was lonely and tired and she felt so good next to me that in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to abandon myself to her kisses and caresses.

But then I thought of my wife–by herself and worlds away from me. I imagined her going about her daily life, wondering where I was, hoping I was safe, and I realized that she was the only one I really wanted. Still, it was one of the hardest things I have ever done to pull away from Ain-Mai’s embrace. “I,” I said, and then took her hand and drew out the character for “married” on her palm. I guess she understood my meaning one way or another; she nodded and then put her head back down on my shoulder. She started crying again, very softly, and I put my arm around her again. I didn’t know what else to do.

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes to see the sun breaking over the far horizon. Ain-Mai was sleeping with her head still on my shoulder. Then I noticed with a start that a large bird-like creature was perched on a wall plate next to the hollow. It had wings folded behind it and small arms in front, each with a large golden bracelet on it. We looked at each other for a moment until it put its hands over its eyes and bowed deeply to me.

(to be continued…)


Blue Storm – Visual Fiction

For those who are new to my blog, I do a Visual Fiction flash fiction every Sunday, based around a picture of mine that I find inspiring. If you’d like to join me in this, feel free to use the picture to write your own story. Just give me the link to yours in the comments, since I’d love to read it. I write stories of all genres and moods, although this one happens to be rather dark.

Taken in Jeonju, South Korea

Taken in Jeonju, South Korea

I knew that magic had a price, but it never occurred to me that it might extend beyond the one foolish enough to try to wield it.

*

“Jules, you’re mad! Quit it!” I shouted, trying to be heard above the rising winds. Jules was standing in the circle he had drawn in the forest clearing, shaking convulsively. At the time, I thought it was some sort of ecstasy of unholy power, but now that I reflect, it looked more like a person who has grabbed onto an electric fence and has tapped into a source of power far too vast for them to handle.

I ran, just as the clouds overhead began to seethe and spread a poisonous blue hue across the sky. It moved faster than I, and by the time I returned to my apartment, it had covered the city. A rift of dazzling light appeared in it and the last thing I saw before I shut and locked my door was a rain of dark objects beginning to fall.

*

It has been two days. I have not heard from Jules, but if he is dead, he is lucky. The city is in a panic at the unearthly scourge that has overrun it. There are many names for them: imps, goblins, demons. No one knows what they are, only that they are incredibly hard, if not impossible, to kill.

I sit and cower at home now, regretting any part I played in Jules’ mad schemes. I know that if they should find me, the concrete walls of my apartment will offer me little protection. Still, I wait and pray that this storm, like all others, might eventually pass.


The Elephant's Trunk

🐘 Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, poet, curveballer, noir dreamer 🐘

Thru Violet's Lentz

My view, tho' somewhat askew...

The New, Unofficial, On-line Writer's Guild

Aooga, Aooga - here there be prompts, so dive right in

Just Joyfulness

Celebrating joy

Tao Talk

You have reached a quiet bamboo grove, where you will find an eclectic mix of nature, music, writing, and other creative arts. Tao-Talk is curated by a philosophical daoist who has thrown the net away.

H J Musk

On reading, writing and everything in between ...

Clare Graith

Author, Near Future Sci-Fi, Dystopian, Apocalypse

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

Rolling Boxcars

Where Gaming Comes at you like a Freight Train

Lady Jabberwocky

Write with Heart

Fatima Fakier

Wayward Thoughts of a Relentless Morning Person

Life in Japan and Beyond

stories and insights from Japan

The Green-Walled Treehouse

Explore . Imagine . Create

One Minute Office Magic

Learning new Microsoft Office tricks in "just a minute"

lightsleeperbutheavydreamer

Just grin and bear it awhile

Linda's Bible Study

Come study God's Word with me!

Haden Clark

Philosophy. Theology. Everything else.

Citizen Tom

Welcome to Conservative commentary and Christian prayers from Mount Vernon, Ohio.

The Green-Walled Chapel

Writings on Faith, Religion and Philosophy

To Be A Magician

Creative writing and short stories

My music canvas

you + me + music

Eve In Korea

My Adventures As An ESL Teacher In South Korea

Luna's Writing Journal

A Place for my Fiction

Upper Iowa University

Center for International Education

Here's To Being Human

Living life as a human

jenacidebybibliophile

Book Reviewer and Blogger

yuxianadventure

kitten loves the world

Strolling South America

10 countries, 675 days, 38,540km

It's All in Finding the Right Words

The Eternal Search to Find One's Self: Flash Fiction and Beyond

Reflections Of Life's Journey

Lessons, Joys, Blessings, Friendships, Heartaches, Hardships , Special Moments

Ryan Lanz

Fantasy Author

Chris Green Stories

Original Short Fiction

Finding Myself Through Writing

Writing Habits of Elle Knowles - Author

BEAUTIFUL WORDS

Inspiring mental health through creative arts and friendly interactions. (Award free blog)

TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!

Unmapped Country within Us

Emily Livingstone, Author

Silkpurseproductions's Blog

The art of making a silk purse out of a sow's ear.