Tag "Fluff" - Works and Original stories

In the shade of ancient maples, amid the noise of autumn leaves, stood an old janitor, like the last guardian of an unconquered memory.

The whole baker's house was filled with a note of sweet honey, the aroma of fresh pastries, like a gentle song with nostalgic notes. There was something magical in his eyes, like the stars in the sky at dark at night.

In a quiet corner of the ancient city, among the narrow streets and abandoned houses, stood an ancient church, like the last guardian of the soul of this place. This temple has been a holy house for many centuries, and it was destined to meet the last priest who would sweep through its walls.

In a distant city, where time flowed slowly like honey in spring, there lived an old lamplighter named Abraham. He was like the last guardian of the night, but instead of a sword, he carried a metal torch in his hands, which illuminated the streets of this forgotten place. Abraham was older than the city itself, and his face, covered with wrinkles, was like a map on which all the nights he had experienced were carved.

I’m just a little homeless kitten that feels lonely and is learning how to survive in this world full of bad and good people. At some moment, I almost lost hope that I would find a warm home and a loving owner. But one day, I meet the people, who I instantly get sympathy for. My cat’s gut tells me they could take me with them and give me everything I’m dreaming about…

In a mysterious palace, standing on the edge of the twilight reality, a handsome prince lived, sighing heavily, whose life was a pattern of dreams and hopes. He was a gift of fate, something that could conquer the very horizons. But, like walking clouds, the eyelids of fate revealed their plans.

That evening, the sky blossomed with lights, like a huge kaleidoscope in the hands of the gods. Orange, pink and purple shades mixed in this grand palette, as if the artist's brush was slowly and carefully stroking the clouds. The air was filled with the smell of freshness after a long rain, and at that moment, standing on the top of the hill, I felt that the world was coming to life around me.

The only ones always thanking him for his work were the macrophages and the sweet platelets. But that didn't count in his opinion, because he considered them close colleagues who were, even if it didn't look like it, going through the same from time to time. Just a lot less due to being more "pleasant to the eye" than neutrophils.