Krystallyn

Life can be hard. We've all known that. For some, it can be a waking nightmare. In my case, that's probably the best description. Everyone has a time in their life when they are scared of vampires, witches, werewolves and the like. Usually, those fears die once you find out those creatures aren't real. However, a small fear lives on that we could just be deceiving ourselves. If our world was in fact inhabited by frightening creatures of myth, life would be hellish, literally.  I should know. How, you ask? It all began six months ago… ************************************************************************************* "Avery!" my frie

After embarking on my first adventure, I soon realized that the majority of what takes place is travelling. I was never as sore when I slept as I was that first week. The hard work and long hours shoveling hay were nothing compared to walking thirty miles in twelve hours. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. Fae dutifully carried her assigned portion of supplies, but was quickly growing weary. They had already been travelling for a week now, and had only just entered the forest of Vitt. Fae knew that she would eventually grow stronger from this process, but for now she was struggling to carry her supplies and keep up with the wagon. T

So, you know how everyone's always raving about their desire to have wings? Let me tell you something, from experience. They aren't all that incredible. By now, you're probably wondering why I would know this. No, there was no genie, no fairy godmother, and no wish granting angel. In fact, I was born with wings, which is not as wonderful as it sounds. It made my life utterly miserable. Let me explain. Apparently, my mother had died when I was born, and my father had given me up for illegal testing to pay the bills. Not exactly the best parenting ever, I know, but I still loved him. I mean, he was my dad. However, I reminded him too much of m

 I've always loved stories. As a child, I would sit around and listen as travelers told of their adventures. Each time, I would write them down in my notebook, no matter how dull. Every story was an adventure, and every adventure, a story waiting to be told. In the large tavern, a few people had seated themselves around the many circular tables scattered among the room. Towards the center of the room rose a platform where travelers would perform to help pay for their room. At the bar, a thin, wrinkled woman with graying blonde hair was rinsing off mugs and filling them with ale. A young lady of sixteen was serving the guests. At the table n

My whole life, I've known there was something odd about me. What it was, no one could say. Yet, they all saw it, felt it, whispering it in their sleep. They feared me. Erphis woke slowly from its nightly slumber. All over town, people were awaking, and heading off to work either in the fields or in town. Spring was swiftly arriving, and the giant oak just east of town had begun to blossom. The sun rose lazily above the Epoch mountain range, bathing the valley in soft light.  The green valley was tucked neatly between two towering mountain ranges, the Epoch in the east, and the Tyrm in the west. A crystal clear river, the Mawque, ran from mou

 The night was dark. Only a few stars had decided to show their faces, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the moon. In a green valley tucked neatly between two towering mountains, a quaint little village was settling down slowly for the night. Small cottages were scattered around the town's center in no obvious order. Most of these homes had candles still burning in them. As the night wore on, though, each candle was blown out. As the last candle's light disappeared, the moon finally began to show her lovely head, illuminating the town in soft white light. Anyone watching this process had every right to feel enchanted by this ritual; however, th

Avenue Collins sat on her bedroom floor, carefully folding her wardrobe, doing her best to fit it all into the one suitcase her mother would let her pack. As she folded, she listened to her iPod, her headphones lodged in her ears. Golden sunlight streamed in through her open window, illuminating the simple, yet beautiful room. Her black denim jeans were wrinkled and faded, showing how often they were worn. Her soft gray tee shirt was just as wrinkled, though not nearly as faded. Into her room walked her mother, a woman in her mid forties with graying blond hair and brown eyes dark as night. She carried in her arms a black trash bag, with an