Original works / Original works

Much truth is told in jest. It's like a kind of mirror where people see any face except their own.

The world, which flourishes so quickly, is filled with all kinds of living creatures. People are at odds with werewolves; werewolves with people. In the village of Fiordello lived a small family, but in one moment something went wrong...

The father is single and has three children: son Mikhail - 18 years old, eldest daughter of Olga - 19 years old and youngest daughter of Ekaterina - 17 years old. But the children never met their chosen ones, and there are some. What is the reason?

Shelly gets turned on by dinosaurs in this fic and she uses Pebble as her toy and Dandy fucks her for that

-I've never memorised dreams. -Never. Never, but I started a month ago. I remember every dream down to the smallest detail and it's more like a flashback or a TV show with me and a broken timeline. -What's the most vivid thing about your dreams? -A girl. -The girl.

Cold winds howl, dark clouds gather... Who dares stand before this invincible warrior?

a collection of poems that I decided to start writing.

In shadows cast by beauty's grace, A cruel heart found its place...

You've always been by my side. He protected me with his unobtrusive care, silently followed me relentlessly. And I... I was selfish, I didn't appreciate and didn't notice everything that you did for me, I looked through my fingers. But when everyone turned away from me, you were the only one who stayed by my side and didn't let me fall.

I was packing the flower, listening to the cheerful chatter of the child. Emma stood a little further away, looking at other flowers. “By the way, in the language of flowers, peonies mean…” she cast a helpless glance at Emma. “Longevity,” Emma prompted.

This is my dedication to those people who live there in Donbas. And to those little angels whose names are carved on the Alley of Angels...

How could Dr. Barlow, a most harmless man on earth end up in the courtroom, and as a defendant? Why did he openly appoint a man directly related to the case as his lawyer? And most importantly, what is that thing he hides under his coat?

In the shadow of the cross where the roses bloom, the eternal vampire awaits his fate. Death and life in a dance, in every petal, a story that will never fade.

A white cat lived in the dark streets, which has some special features. It was thanks to her that he was able to find a red-haired guy who could give him real happiness.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and the stench of decay. The knight, his name lost to the ages, stumbled through the cavern, his armor battered and dented. He’d been fighting for hours, the echo of his blade’s clang against the dragon’s scales reverberating through the echoing space. Every strike, every parry, drained him further, his breath a ragged, rasping sound.

The red dust of Mars swirled around the landing module, a crimson storm brewing in the distance. Inside, a lone figure hunched over a datapad, his face illuminated by the cold blue light. This was Elias, a man burdened by the weight of the universe, his heart a black hole consuming hope. He was on a mission to find solace, a place where the burden of his melancholy wouldn’t be a liability, a place where sadness was not a flaw, but a virtue.

The world had become a canvas of muted colours. The once vibrant greens and blues of the meadows had faded to a weary ochre, and the sun, once a fiery ball of life, hung like a tired old lamp in the sky. The air was thick with the scent of dying leaves and the mournful cry of migrating birds. Autumn was upon them, a melancholic shroud draped over the land.

The first time I noticed it, it was a fleeting reflection, a momentary flash of something that wasn’t quite right. It was in the morning, the sun slanting through the window, and the steam rising from my coffee, swirling, like a miniature cloud. And there, for a split second, I saw the reflection of a woman, not myself, but another. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed, and there was a sadness in her expression that mirrored the emptiness I felt within.

She often pondered what it was like to be part of something greater than mere existence. Her past felt distant and insignificant, like a daguerreotype. She dreamed of feeling the warmth of human relationships again, of sharing laughter and love, but deep down, she understood that it was impossible.