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725
1 month ago · Updated to #2
Once upon a time, there was a man. His name was Ruggard, and he had never had chicken before. He lived in a tiny hut in the woods, and he was friends with Borth the Bear and Voart the orc. They lived here for countless generations, watching the world go by, and enjoying simple pleasures. Voart was cooking chicken (he loves to cook) one night, and Ruggard came by to chat. He sat down by the fire that Voart was cooking his chicken on, and for a few minutes, stared at him in awe. He had never seen cooked chicken before, and he said "What oddity are you burning on your fire?"., and to that Voart replied "Chicken. Don't you know what chicken is?". Raggard stumbled back, awe-struck by the concept of chicken. "What in the name of Melkor is that!" Voart was so surprised that this man had lived a life without the concept of chicken, he tore his tusk out. Shock went across Ruggard's face as he saw his friend tear off his tusk, and said "Perhaps I have caught you at a bad time. I will see you tomorrow." With that, Ruggard headed back to his hut. Voart sat there after his friend's departure, thinking "Wow, he really hasn't had chicken. What a sad life." He looked down at the tusk in his hand, his tusk, and sat still for a moment, blood gushing from his wound in his mouth. He stood up after a good while and grabbed a book from a backpack that he brought. The book said COOKBOOK OF ALAK-MALK on the cover, and had one eye right in the middle. He tossed aside the tusk in his hand, and opened the book. Inside was different recipes, like Hogmouth Soup, Fireflies, and Galypes, but that was not what he was looking for. He landed on a page that said Best Chicken Ever. He smiled and thought "I will make this for him, and he will understand the brilliance of chicken.". He went to his hut and went to sleep, knowing a long day would follow. As Ruggard began the walk back to his hut, he thought "What is chicken?!". As he continued to walk, he looked around, seeking comfort from the familiarity of the forest he resided in. When he returned to his hut, he tried to fall asleep, but he was too confused. He stayed awake the rest of the night, wondering about the physics of chicken.
535
6 months ago · Updated to #1
A short story inspired by the poem “Ode to a Nightingale” by John Keats.
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My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,— That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
699
1 year ago · Updated to #1
709
1 year ago · Updated to #1
610
1 year ago · Updated to #1
1.7K
1 year ago · Updated to #2
This Blog has been made to make kids attracted in reading books during their free time which is good for them. They will get the opportunity to learn new words and to enjoy books. In this website the very first book which has been published to this website is the book called "The Little Bird Blue" which is written by Sachin Dissanayake who is a Sri Lankan writer. A Youtube Channel called "Bridge To Fantasy Book Club" has been made for this website Giving Notifications about new books and audio books.Thank You For Visiting This Website! Have A Glorious Day! Please Comment and Subscribe to this website and the Youtube Channel!
1.1K
2 years ago · Updated to #1
When I see youI can see through youWhat you have been throughThis whole timeDon’t pretend to be someone elseI’m getting to see everything clearlySome of them think I’m a babyYou don’t even get close to me latelyWhy you are acting This way crazyI know everywhere we go we got to see dreamsBut I gotta say it’s gotta be naturalSometimes it’s hard so then it can be fakeHave to look for the right time my dearIf not you will get caught
3.0K
2 years ago · Updated to #3
1.8K
2 years ago · Updated to #1
2.1K
2 years ago · Updated to #1
1.8K
3 years ago · Updated to #1
Hello, all!! In this piece, I will be explaining what I have learned so far (from the beginning to currently). I wanted to write this since I wanted to put it out in the world. I hope this helps in any way. I'm so glad that I get to write pieces in this website because anyone from everywhere in the world can go and check it out. Enjoy!
2.2K
3 years ago · Updated to #1
This is a Wattpad contest (sounds of winter) entry, and I just thought that I could put this up here so more people could read it and see it.
English is not my first language, so prepare for some mistakes. and all right reserved to the artist of the songs and the song writers, but of course, the story belongs to me XD
Anyway, this is a book where I'll put short stories or oneshots of stories I wrote that are related to some songs or lyrics.
Hope you all enjoys
thx
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