Myths Stories Novels & Stories

UNKNOWN POV It’s hard to say when the defining moment is as a child. The moment you sway to one side of a divided household, usually composed of so many small moments that you’re unaware you’ve even been swayed. For as long as I could remember my mother would tell us stories, and not bedtime stories, stories that she fully believed contained the truth. When I was younger, I found them entertaining, especially in the way she was theatrical and captivating when she delivered them. She spun the simplest details into a web of questions that drew me in, and her eyes would light up as she spoke of myths, legends, and prophecies.

Sean asked her. Luyando blinked away her tears. “Why do you ask that?” “Because you don’t look so happy.” He answered. “Why do you think I don’t look happy?” “Because you are sad.” The four year old answered. “Mummy said you are sick. She said you need love only. What did she mean?” Luyando’s fight against her tears intensified. “Your mother, she said that?” “Um,” the boy nodded. “Grandma, granddad, mummy too, they always hug me and tell me they love me. Do you want me to give you a hug Auntie Yando?”

Amid my struggles, I heard the scrunch of snow somewhere behind me. My entire being froze with the amount of possibilities that it could be the slender man. I was sweating, but my body was cold. All the hairs on my arms and back stood up as I trembled in fear of what’s coming next. I could hear it slowly drag every other step as it approached me. An image of a bloody lady wearing a shredded white dress walking while dragging her chained leg popped into my head. ‘Damn those scary stories told in my school!’

"I haven't. And if I have it doesn't matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she'd told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say . You have to visit them from time to time." "That's true." Meera walked with her shield on her back, pushing an occasional branch out of the way with her frog spear. Just when Bran began to think that she wasn't going to tell the story after all, she began, "Once there was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees, and learned all the magics of my people." Bran was almost ce

"Did you just say you're two hundred and five years old? Two hundred and five?!" "Well, yes. Werewolves are immortal, didn't you know that?" "Of course not. How am I supposed to know if no one tells me?" He moves back to his seat. "There are stories about werewolves and vampires, and witches, and mermaids, and dragons, and a whole lot of other creatures in your world though." "You think we believe those stories? They're just fantasies, I still don't know if this is just one of those fantasies acting out in my dreams or if this is reality," she says.

Luciana asked. "Lycans? There should be few here, I guess. I have not seen any one in particular, but I know you can get books on almost everything on this library. Every creatures that ever existed were written about. Some are true stories, some are just myths and legends. I believe you have the wisdom to know the difference." Luciana and Freya looked at each other. They didn't know anything about lycans. How would they be able to differentiate between real stories and myths.

“Do you like fantasy?” “Like dragons and Lord of the Rings stuff? No. I don’t think of the Greek gods as fantasy. I think of them as history.” He looked surprised. “So, you believe in it all?” I shrugged. “I don’t know that I don’t believe in it. I think you have to wonder where the stories came from. Every myth stems from something. What sparked the stories? And it is so elaborate. It would have taken a mastermind to just make up this whole world of people and give them each a story.”

She had never traveled anywhere, not out of travel jitters, but out of lack of opportunity. So, Era settled into her position and waited for Dom's story with a plate of healthy vegetarian snacks in front of her. "Alright. It seems like you all want to hear about my experiences so far. So, I won't disappoint you," Dom said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. He briefly cleared his throat before continuing with a smile that never left his face. "To start with, I'm going to tell you about some myths I've heard during my travels, and the first interesting myth I want to share with you is about our existence as werewolves. Specifically, it's about our origin."

Clearing the bushes or something? I still remember my dad's stories weren't always right. Sometimes, he told me things that weren't true. Like the time he said that the moon goddess came to live among men and created the moonlight, and we were living under her shadow, but she had given it to all her people.

It was beating wildly in my chest. My dad took another deep breath before he started speaking again. “Lycans and werewolves are two mythological creatures that have been around for centuries. They have unique abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, but they both share the same origin story: the moon goddess created them to rule beside humans.” He paused and looked at me to make sure I was following his story. I nodded, my mind spinning with this new information. His words mesmerized me—it all seemed so impossible, yet somehow, I felt an odd connection to the stories he was telling me.