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“That’s where they are you know? People say they’re myth, but so many stories talk about them ascending, evolving. If we ever make it to living among the stars, I’m sure we’ll rediscover dragons.” She paused a moment; they stared at the stars above them, “Do you reckon that the moon could technically be made of cheese?”

‘Wingfeather: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness’ is a kids’ fantasy book, the first in a series, and tells of the adventures of three siblings from the point of view of the eldest as their life is turned upside down by dragons, terrorizing fangs, and mysterious maps.

It was the last Friday that Ivona would be with them and Owain was trying to make it the best Friday she had ever known. They’d spent the last week meeting up with all of Ivona’s friends families, and she’d spent the last night having a sleepover with her best friend, Milly, she was also being evacuated. All kids under the age of eighteen were being sent away this time, and several men in the town had been called up, at least one per family, not the McCrawleys though. Not yet

Larry’s funeral had been last week, and Owain was still wearing black. He had loved him as a brother, and was mourning him as one now.

Owain stood in silence for a moment. He had looked at Ohlendian cultures in school, everyone had, but he had never seen one of their armbands, the modern equivalent to the armour they used to wear, some still did, refusing to show their faces. After looking from the treetop for some time, Ruth swung down, rolling on impact with the ground. “Ruth?” Owain exclaimed, kneeling to try and help her up, but she sprang to her feet with ease, “Are you okay?” Ruth gave him a searing l

Darth Plagueis is set in the Star Wars Universe, opening with a scene many of us Star Wars fans have hear about, and many meme enjoyers have heard. The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, his death at the hands of his apprentice.

The doorbell ringing was a surprise for all of the family, except for Owain. Who didn’t hear it. It was his Dad who answered the ringing speaker, watching the screen as it showed the girl ringing the apartment number, tan with dark hair, a fringe, and grey eyes, dressed like she’d been hired to play a vagrant in a musical, though maybe that was just the flatcap, a colourful metal band around her right arm. Mr. McCrawley knew she looked somewhat familiar, but not enough to be

It didn’t feel like it should be the same day. The sun was shining, the rain from before had cleared up, and for once they had blue skies, but the faint tint of smoke on the air was a constant reminder of the morning’s events. No one was talking about it.

The bombs were still falling, louder and louder by the moment. Down in the basement, Owain had lost all sense of time.

Each chapter ends with verses for meditation, questions for reflection, and a reminder to pray on what’s been discussed. Whether you have a faith or not, these are a great way to think about it, reflect on it, and come to your own conclusion about what’s been written in that chapter.

Owain stared at the empty space where the boat, The Salmon’s Head, should have been. The rain was heavy, but not enough to obscure an entire trawler, and Salmon Ed and his crew were known for being loud in the mornings. The Harrands, their head family, had dealt with many complaints for the noisy crew.

"A great deal needs to be done on it and I have no idea when it will see the light of day." - J.R.R. Tolkien

There’s this blue house, it serves as a town hall, at one point a school, always a church, or a theatre, or a market. It’s a building of many uses, but its lower floor has always been living quarters.

"Even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer." - Sam Gamgee

Clik was sitting at the back of the caravan, armoured legs dangling off the edge, as it trundled over the dusty ground. Her brows were furrowed, and a frown replaced the almost constant grin that graced her features.

It was only yesterday for him, though the calendar was exactly the same, and future was past, and past was future, and tenses were thrown out of the window.

Amy sat cross-legged in the middle of her new room, staring into oblivion as she realised that the last hundred years of her life were real, and was coming to the conclusion that a century is rather a long time to only have grown one year.

To tell the stories of old is to sing the legacies of legends and humble folk, of man, guardian, and Ki across this great land of Racë. This story speaks of the curly-haired and bright-eyed Rosemary Bagworth, she who has never rested long enough to call one place home, and her meeting with coal-bearded and quick-minded Dugward Stonefeet, he who was yet to wander the world.

Dedicated to N. Waters, one of my best friends, and victim to rambles, pillows, and unedited first drafts.

What Lyall saw was nothing close to what he had been expecting, and even further away from what he had been ready for.