Fabulous Modern Fables!

Chapter 2 ‘What do you mean? I am in no danger? How could that beast be my father?’ He was angry. Perhaps the sage was making a mistake. Hadn’t he smelt the fetid breath of the beast as it circled the hut last night, snuffling and poking its clawed fingers in cracks between the logs of the cabin... Sign in to see full entry.

He looked intently at Or as if watching him from afar. 'You have come about your parents.' The old man stated. He paused and shifted on his bench seat. 'You have come in vain, if you believe you will see them again in this world.' Or's breath caught in his throat. 'Are they dead?' He asked. The... Sign in to see full entry.

The path to the old people’s hut was through a dangerous part of the forest. There were reports of a pack of wolves roaming the area at night and other strange goings on in daylight. Travellers were warned to keep to the beaten trails and not to tarry. At the crossroads, one road led to the township... Sign in to see full entry.

It was not the size of the foot prints that scared him. Two things disturbed him greatly. The shape and the fact that he could see a shoe print and then, abruptly a clawed print that appeared like an orang tan’s foot with indentations around it such as claws would make. There were eight marks around... Sign in to see full entry.

who lived with his dog Timan and a cat Yaffa in a small hut at the edge of the forest. His parents had gone one day to the market to buy some food and left him alone with the animals and the chickens. They told him not to worry if they did not return before night fall. His father had said in a... Sign in to see full entry.

On crystal windscreens Raindrops balance; then slipped Aside by wipers Vanish from the clear landscape. Ilana Leeds - Copyright. Sign in to see full entry.

If you have any hints as to why, I am open to suggestions. It may not be to the taste of the mag but I (probably arrogantly) think it is a good story. A writer must have ego and faith in his or her own story. Here it is. His Sister’s Dog He disliked the gun metal grey whippet, his sister’s dog. She... Sign in to see full entry.

An eerie silence traveled with us on the drive to her house. I huddled into the passenger door. The handle dug into my hip bone. ‘Would you like to stop off somewhere and get a coffee?’ She asked me pleasantly. I grunted grimly in reply. ‘It might be nice. We can talk privately if you like. Alan’s... Sign in to see full entry.

Handfuls of rose petals fluttered down to rest on the moist soil at the side of the grave, pink and yellow tokens of affection from the few friends gathered there. Her family were long gone. She had no children. The only other people audience to her last journey were two grave diggers, sleeves... Sign in to see full entry.

My tear stained face outlined a story which my words hesitatingly filled in. 'Mum and I had a fight.' She looked up at me, mid stitch, from some needlework she had brought to the table. She placed it carefully on her lap and took a sip of tea. 'And...?' She had a way of arching an elegant brow that... Sign in to see full entry.