Mythological Nymphs Novels & Stories

"Water nymphs. They keep to streams, lakes, small rivers, or creeks, helping to protect the life within just as sylvans and dryads protect the trees and forests." "I've never seen them." Rhychard still sat, but now his eyes were on the water. Nymphs lived in his creek. That was both scary and intoxicating all at the same time. "You quite possibly never will. As with many in the faerie world, the naiads have not yet decided what to make of you." Rhychard said nothing. The truth was, he didn't know what to make of them, either. "Kree told me about your attempt at Harvest Fellowship last night," Tryna said.

"You look like a nymph under the moon and dangling from a tree." "Nah, nymphs get laid more than I do." He wasn't going near that comment. "Know a lot about nymphs, do you?" "Can't say I know any, but lore describes them as intensely sexual creatures who prefer nature and have an irresistible allure." He wondered if she realized she'd just described herself. And, of course, she'd know something about mythical beings. Any topic at all, really. She had an intelligence about her that was neither condescending nor flaunting. A subtle quality that allowed her to carry on a conversation about nearly anything.

She beamed proudly. All the young women talked to Damen for what seemed like an eternity. Then there were Oceanides. "Their name has the ocean in it but they have nothing to do with the seas unless we have parties of course; they are the nymphs of freshwater; daughters of Oceanus and Tethys." "Is Poseidon going to be here? "Nah, he only attends major religious festivals and is busy the rest of the time. Pontus and Thalassa are barely here as well."

I whispered to him. "I think it's the Nymphs," he whispered back. "I think they can read our thoughts." The Nymphs giggled and played, their laughter like music. "I love them!" I exclaimed. And then, in tiny voices, they responded in unison, "We love you too!"

A woman leaned close to them, smiling softly as she smoothed my son’s hair. The boy was Eren, the child I had nearly given up half my life force to bring into the world. The woman was not me. I was Persephone, goddess of spring, queen of the Underworld, and Hades’s wife under every sacred law. Not long after, Nympha posted her own update on the social feed. In the illustration, my mother’s pomegranate brooch lay beside a small charm of laurel and asphodel, clumsily woven by a child’s hands. Beneath it, she wrote:

I whispered to him. "I think it's the Nymphs," he whispered back. "I think they can read our thoughts." The Nymphs giggled and played, their laughter like music. "I love them!" I exclaimed. And then, in tiny voices, they responded in unison, "We love you too!"

"Let's back things up a bit. Fill in the gaps for me. Let's start with who and what you are." "I'm Naia." She ran her hands across her body. "This is what I am. I am a nymph." "A nymph?" The gears in his brain spun. He had only heard the word used in nymphomaniac. "Can you elaborate?" "I am a water spirit." She stirred the water with one finger, summoning a floating sphere. "My spring was dammed up over a century ago. Luckily, the water was diverted through the fountain in the yard, and eventually pipes were installed to allow spring water to come up through the pipes to this tub so that I could come inside."

He would not allow the woman he loved be taken from him. Just then the water rose around them, lifting the humans from the riverbed and high into the air. The water nymph took shape and had each of them in one of her shapeless watery arms. "You came back!" Aurora cried happily. The nymph said something in reply that they did not know, but the gnomes did. They began hurling curses at the nymph. One gnome threw his knife, which sailed through the watery body without causing injury. "Can you get us out of here?" Devrim asked politely. The nymph nodded and began her trek upriver holding her new friends. The gnomes tried to wade in after them, but came back to the shore. They chased them alongsid

“What are you?” Zephyra dreaded answering the question, but she answered anyway. “A nymph, nephelai to be exact.” A smirk appeared on his face. “A nymph, huh?” He made a small chuckle that was a purely male sound. And there it is, Zephyra thought. Most men heard the word nymph and thought immediately of the flighty, flirty nymphs who gave birth to the term “nymphomaniac.” Zephyra gave him a good hard glare. “Yeah, and?” she said back, challenging him to say something stupid.

He wiggled his toes in the pool where they sat, having just bathed after making love. "My grandmother did so - she still lives. My mother was killed - her tree was felled by lightning and she died in the explosion. Like other immortals, nymphs can be killed." "I'm sorry. What about your father?" She'd never explained that aspect of nymph biology - there weren't any male nymphs that he'd ever heard of. "My father was a hiker - my mother seduced him one night. As long as we remain tied to a tree, all our children are daughters and also dryads. As soon as we are born, our mothers find us a sapling of our own."