Whisper from the hell - Short story

Five people were walking along a trail in a small mountain valley, alongside a winding mountain stream that zigzagged due to the abundance of rocky outcroppings that made one of the banks impassable. Consequently, the trail constantly crossed from one bank to the other, forcing the group to ford the stream repeatedly. However, they did not complain as they were in a wild place with no one around to build crossings, which was exactly what they were aiming for. They wanted to venture as far as possible into the wilderness, so they enthusiastically hopped from stone to stone, crossing the river.

New Year's Tangerines - Short story

The evening of December 31st didn't feel at all like New Year's. It was snowing or raining, and a gusty icy wind made things worse. Huddled up, I walked along the sidewalk, cursing the wretched weather, the new year, and my boss who had made me stay late at work. By the way, they still hadn't given us our advance pay. Now I'll have to wait for my salary, and that won't be until after the New Year holidays. I barely had any money left. At least I managed to buy some food for the New Year's table in advance.

Village Mitote - Short story

"Do you know what mitote* is?" asked Sergey in surprise. "You are in the dark, even though you live in the city. Have you heard of Castaneda?"
"Well, in general, it's about shamans, right?" Dmitry responded uncertainly.
"I'm telling you, you're in the dark. It's not about shamans. Castaneda writes about magic and power," Sergey interrupted him. "The main thing is power, and the one who hunts for it better has more of it. Usually, it's done alone, but sometimes these hunters gather together, take peyote, and meet with Mescalito. That's what mitote is. So, will you come with us?"
"Tomorrow? I might go if my parents let me."
"Just tell them you're going fishing," Sergey got up. "Let me know by the evening if you decide to come. I have to go now, there's something I need to prepare and discuss with another candidate."
"Who is that candidate?" Dmitry asked.
"Remember Fedor? You saw us together at the train station. He seemed interested. Anyway, see you."
Sergey waved his hand and walked down the street. Dmitry got up from the bench in front of the house where his family usually spent the summer and went inside the courtyard.

Strength and Honor! - A fanfiction story based on the game World of Warcraft

Krogur opened his eyes. Soft light was filtering in from the top of the hut through the chimney, the sun not yet fully risen. From outside, he could hear a noise like a disturbed beehive, a sound that had instantly excited Krogur for many years and filled him with the sweet anticipation of impending battles. The orc clans of the Horde were preparing for a military campaign. Today, like all mortal races in Azeroth, orcs were fighting against the Burning Legion. Krogur was old, and his battles had long since passed into history. For an orc whose whole life had been spent in battles, old age was a curse. He envied his fallen comrades and regretted not sharing their fate. His wife had died of old age, and his sons did not return from the icy lands of Northrend. But death had so far avoided him, even though he had thrown himself into the thick of battles, fought fiercely, without thinking about caution, for which he had been dubbed "The Furious Axe" by his fellow tribesmen.

In Search of the Gusgarf Waterfall - Short story

Long before I set off on this journey, I was asked if I had been to the Gusgarf Waterfall. "No," I answered, "what waterfall is that?" Various descriptions followed, all of which essentially amounted to it being a large waterfall, about thirty meters high, also known as "Pioneer". I decided I should go, but I couldn't find anyone to go with me. It seemed like many people were hiking, but not specifically to that waterfall. I asked where exactly the waterfall was located, but the explanations were confusing. In the end, I decided to go by myself and find it. If it's such a big and famous waterfall, I'll surely find it, I thought. I'll ask the locals if I need to.

The Odzhuk Ring - Short story

People usually go on mountain hikes in groups - it's more fun and safer that way. However, there are exceptions to this "usually," and there is such a thing as solo hikes. Sometimes a person finds themselves alone in the mountains out of necessity, but that's different. I'm talking about when someone chooses to hike alone. The specific reasons why people choose to hike alone are always different, and this phenomenon applies to all types of mountain hikes. There are even mountaineers who climb peaks alone, the so-called solo ascents. This phenomenon is not new, it's just not very common. In the Soviet past, such individualism was not encouraged at all, so in the West, this phenomenon is more developed.

Little Boats - Short story

In my childhood, I lived near a big park. It was the main park of the city, traditionally named after the leader of the world proletariat. The park was truly big, but in my early childhood, it seemed simply enormous, like a whole world full of amusements, wonders, and interesting places.

Once, I don't remember exactly for what occasion, my cousin and I were given small plastic boats, one yellow and one blue. In the evening, after discussing it, we decided that early in the morning we would go to the park to set our boats sailing, to "launch boats," as they say. The park had many small ponds, perfectly suitable for our idea.

Just Annoying - Short story

“And what does that mean?” he asked, busy making coffee and not turning around.
“Just what it sounds like, and then I’m leaving with my friends,” she said, holding a cigarette in one hand and arranging slices of cheese and sausage on bread with the other.
“You’re leaving... with your friends?” he asked, frowning, putting two cups of coffee on the table, black for himself and with cream for her.

The Cave of the Mountain Spirit - Short Story

After hiking four kilometers up the gorge, along the river, I arrived at a wide hollow nestled between the mountains. Just above this hollow, three other small mountain rivers merged together. For some unknown reason, this hollow was called the "Meadow of Power." It had an oval shape, with the confluence of the rivers at the northern end of the oval. The southern edge of the meadow was surrounded by an archway of trees. Along the western edge of the meadow flowed a river. From the east, a massive mountain slope with White Bar Peak surged towards the meadow, with boulders and debris. Although I didn't know what made this meadow so powerful, all the accompanying attributes were present, such as towers made of stones and ribbons tied to the trees. The trees here were also peculiar, most of them had twisted trunks growing in various directions. However, I presume this is simply the result of constant avalanches and rockfalls.

Desperation - Short story

The chilly night of late autumn. The wind coldly rustles the fallen leaves. The full moon stares at the frozen ground with a lifeless gaze, creaking the well chain. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a prolonged, melancholy howl.
"No wolves yet?" - Mikhalych, lost in thought, was startled by his wife's remark.
"Just like last time, remember? The wolves howled the same way when you drowned Marta's puppies," his wife grumbled.