“For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.”
—Catherine Drinker Bowen

Ten Secrets To Write Better Stories

Writing isn’t easy, and writing a good story is even harder.

I used to wonder how Pixar came out with such great movies, year after year. Then, I found out a normal Pixar film takes six years to develop, and most of that time is spent on the story.

In this article, you’ll learn ten secrets about how to write a story, and more importantly, how to write a story that’s good.

Free Guide: Want to become a writer? Get our free 10-step guide to becoming a writer here and accomplish your dream today. Click here to download your guide instantly.

10 Secrets to Write Better Stories

Everything I Know About How to Write a Story

Since I started The Write Practice a few years ago, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this question, how to write a good story. I’ve read books and blog posts on writing, taken classes, asked dozens of authors, and, of course, written stories myself.

The following ten steps are a distillation of everything I’ve learned about writing a good story. I hope it makes writing your story a little easier, but more than that, I hope it challenges you to step deeper into your own exploration of how to write a story.

Wait! Need a story idea? We’ve got you covered. Get our top 100 short story ideas here.

1. Write In One Sitting

Write the first draft of your story in as short a time as possible. If you’re writing a short story, try to write it in one sitting. If you’re writing a novel, try to write it in one season (three months).

Don’t worry too much about plotting or outlining beforehand. You can do that once you know you have a story to tell in the first place. Your first draft is a discovery process. You are like an archeologist digging an ancient city out of the clay. You might have a few clues about where your city is buried beforehand, but you don’t know what it will look like until it’s unearthed.

All that’s to say, get digging!

2. Develop Your Protagonist

Stories are about protagonists, and if you don’t have a good protagonist, you won’t have a good story. The essential ingredient for every protagonist is that they must make decisions. Victor Frankl said, “A human being is a deciding being.” Your protagonist must make a decision to get herself into whatever mess she gets into in your story, and likewise, she must decide to get herself out of the mess.

To further develop your protagonist, use other character archetypes like the villain, the protagonist’s opposite, or the fool, a sidekick character that reveals the protagonist’s softer side.

3. Create Suspense and Drama

To create suspense, set up a dramatic question. A dramatic question is something like, “Is he going to make it?” or, “Is she going to get the man of her dreams?” By putting your protagonist’s fate in doubt, you make the reader ask, What happens next?

Note: To do this well, you need to carefully restrict the flow of information to the reader. Nothing destroys drama like over-sharing.

4.  Show, Don’t Tell

Honestly, the saying “show, don’t tell” is overused. However, when placed next to the step above, it becomes very effective.

When something interesting happens in your story that changes the fate of your character, don’t tell us about it. Show the scene! Your readers have a right ro see the best parts of the story play out in front of them. Show the interesting parts of your story, and tell the rest.

5. Write Good Dialogue

Good dialogue comes from two things: intimate knowledge of your characters and lots of rewriting.

Each character must have a unique voice, and to make sure your characters all sound different, read each character’s dialogue and ask yourself, “Does this sound like my character?” If your answer is no, then you have some rewriting to do.

Also, with your speaker tags, try not to use anything but “he said” and “she said.” Speaker tags like “he exclaimed,” “she announced,” and “he spoke vehemently” are distracting and unnecessary. The occasional “he asked” is fine, though.

6. Write About Death

Think about the last five novels you read. In how many of them did a character die? Good stories often involve death. Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Charlotte’s WebThe Lord of the Rings, and more all had main characters who died. Death is the universal theme because every person who lives will one day die. Tap the power of death in your storytelling.

7. Edit Like a Pro

Most professional writers write three drafts or more. The first draft is often called the “vomit draft” or the “shitty first draft.” Don’t share it with anyone! Your first draft is your chance to explore your story and figure out what it’s about.

Your second draft isn’t for polishing, although many new writers will try to polish as soon as they can to clean up their embarrassing first draft. Instead, the second draft is meant for major structural changes and for clarifying the plot and characters of your novel or the key ideas of your non-fiction book.

The third draft is for deep polishing. Now is when everything starts to gel. This is the fun part! But until you write the first two drafts, polishing is probably a waste of your time.

8. Know the Rules, Then Break Them

Good writers know all the rules and follow them. Great writers know all the rules and break them. However, the best writers don’t break the rules arbitrarily. They break them because their stories require a whole new set of rules. Respect the rules, but remember that you don’t serve the rules. You serve your stories.

9. Defeat Writer’s Block

The best way to defeat writers block is to write. If you’re stuck, don’t try to write well. Don’t try to be perfect. Just write.

Sometimes, to write better stories, you have to start by taking the pressure off and just writing.

10. Share Your Work

You write better when you know someone will soon be reading what you’ve written. If you write in the dark, no one will know if you aren’t giving your writing everything you have. But when you share your writing, you face the possibility of failure. This will force you to write the best story  you possibly can.

What are your best tips on how to write a story?


Do you have a story to tell?

Write the first draft in one sitting using the tips above. Then, share a few paragraphs of your practice here in the comments section. And if you share your practice, be sure to leave feedback on a few practices by other writers, too.

Good luck!

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About Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is a writer and entrepreneur. He is the author of the #1 Amazon Bestseller Let's Write a Short Story! and the co-founder of Story Cartel. You can follow him on Twitter (@joebunting).

  • themagicviolinist

    Thanks for the great tips! I used to abandon my stories if I got
    bored or stuck, then I’d end up going back to them six months later. By
    that time I’d have to read everything I wrote again so I could remember
    what was going on. I’ve been doing better about finishing things,

    I used to use speaker tags ALL THE TIME. Now I
    just try to avoid saying, “he said” or “she said” by describing what a
    character is doing, followed by some dialogue.

    Thanks again!

    • eva rose

      Sometimes it helps to put a story aside for a short time, then come back to it with new perspective later. In the meantime, keep living life, meeting people, reading others’ stories, having new adventures! It brings new depth to your story.

      • themagicviolinist

        Yes, I find that setting a story aside for a little bit helps me to clear my mind. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and I have a whole bunch of ideas!

      • George McNeese

        That’s good advice, Eva. I need to adhere to it.

    • I still abandon stories. I’ve abandoned one for the time being, but I know that I will return to it. Before when I abandoned the story, it was simply abandoned. But this one I think of as fermenting, And last night I found myself thinking about a piece I abandoned months ago. I think I want to continue it. Kinda funny how letting it sit sometimes isn’t a bad idea.

      • themagicviolinist

        It is funny how that works, isn’t it?

        • Maybe we sometimes tackle stories bigger than our skills 🙂

    • George McNeese

      I can relate to being stuck on a story for months at a time. Sometimes, I will abandon a draft if I don’t feel it’s the right time to tell the story or if I write a draft out of pure emotion. It becomes more of a journal entry than a story.

      • themagicviolinist

        That’s a good way of looking at it. Thanks!

  • This is one I plan to save! Thank you Joe!

  • eva rose

    On a lovely morning in May, my youngest sister died. We’d known for eight years it was coming but the moment shocked me as though I’d heard the story on the local news.
    A slideshow of memories passed before me.
    The flash of a perfect smile followed by a cascade of laughter. Long dark hair framed by a lace mantilla on her wedding day. The lake and ocean vacations we shared. Our antics with boats as we rowed, canoed, sailed and simply hung on in a wind-swept catamaran. Laughter that spilled over the sand castles she built with her daughter at the beach. A signature apron she wore as she created wonders from her kitchen. A perfectly-browned Thanksgiving turkey she roasted and carried to our home through knee-high snow. Her hands deep in the mix of cinnamon buns and cranberry nut bread she prepared for holiday gifts.
    Eight years ago she was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. After the initial shock, she accepted her disease with grace and humor. She extracted every ounce of enjoyment from the years which followed. When she lost her battle, I began searching for traces of her in my life.

    • themagicviolinist

      This was so sad and sweet. I can’t think of anything that would help this be any better.

    • Sukhdeep

      Nice Story.Must read stories from :

    • MoonshineLove2

      Also I’m creating a story. Please read it. I didn’t start it though. But go on wattpad and my name there is MoonshineLove2

    • juanita couch

      It is hard to write a story such as this because of the personal attachment. You did a good job with it.

    • Dahlya Christina Jaman

      Sad. I can picture it in my mind. I have a long way to write something like this.

    • LilianGardner

      Thanks for sharing your post, Eva Rose. It is beautifully written and a fine example for those who are terminally ill to adopt your sister’s courage, cherfullness and acceptance of the disease.
      Your writing is simple and stylish and what I aim for in my writing. No repetitions, no extra words, no ‘flowery’ adjectives.
      All I can say is, WELL DONE!

  • Maure

    I’m in the process of ‘writing a story in a sitting’ novel-wise – I’m doing the April NaNoWriMo, and hoping to get at least two-thirds to all of my story done this month. If I don’t finish it in April, I’ll finish it in May.
    I don’t know if I should post a paragraph or so of the writing I’ve done today…

    Oh, and I have to say that the ‘write several bad first drafts, don’t worry about outlining’ works great for some people I know, but others can only be happy with writing when they have a detailed outline. I’ve got a balance between that – writing without an outline generally destroys me in the end because I can’t face the mess I’ve written, but a too-detailed outline stifles me, so I do a mixture of rough outlining and plotting beforehand, then as I go along.

    Also, a piece of advice that I’ve utilized a lot – fall in love with your locations! If you have great characters, you want a great world for them to exist in. If it’s a fantasy world, take a leaf from JRR and just spend some time writing about the locations and legends, and if it’s a real-life location read up on it and get to really know it. It’s not as essential a tip as the one’s above, but I think it’s important for creating a sense of place – and a sense of place is what makes readers feel like they’re ‘there’.

  • KathyPooler

    Excellent tips, Joe. My favorite which mirrors where i am in my writing process is to just write and do not edit to polish until at least the third draft. It wasn’t until three years of writing and two rounds of professional editing that I finally found the story I needed to tell. It feels like it magically appeared when it took three years of writing and rewriting to lead to this point. Thanks for these timely and practical tips!

    • Isn’t that amazing? And frustrating. And humbling. I’m glad you found it, and I hope you didn’t waste too much time polishing until then!

  • Jessica

    A section of chapter three from the children’s book I’m writing. I started two weeks ago and I hope to finish it before May:

    The elevator dings as the doors open. I take Mommy’s hand as we walk down the hall to Marie’s room. She is one month old today, and I used the rest of my birthday money from last year to buy her a present. Daddy says we have to celebrate the small milestones in Marie’s life, whatever that means. I asked him why Marie has stones in her life, but Daddy just laughed and smiled at me the way he does.

    I know the way to Marie’s room by now. Today is the fourth time I’ve seen her. The closer we get to her room, the louder her machine beeps. I squeeze Mommy’s hand, but not because I’m scared. She looks down at me and smiles. Her smile is not anything like Daddy’s.

    The room is empty of people except for Marie. Mommy steps closer to the incubaker and lays her hand on the glass.

    “Little Marie, Mommy is here. I brought Will today. He has a present for you.” Mommy steps back so I can show Marie her present.

    I hold the shiny paper up to Marie and she seems to want it. Her hand starts waving and her eyes get bigger. I rip the paper off.

    “Happy birthday, Marie! You are one month old. Do you like your present?” I press the baby doll to the glass so Marie can see it. When I saw the doll in the store, I knew it had been made just for Marie. Her hair was short and golden, just like Marie’s. Her smile was so big, and she had dimples in both cheeks. I just knew that if I could get Marie to smile real big, she would have dimples, too.

    • eva rose

      What a sweet, touching story. I want to read the whole book! Emotional times seem more so when children are involved. I love “incubaker”!

  • Ken Fallon

    Question on No. 7: when you talk about writing three drafts, do you mean each one is its own entity? How much carry-over is there from one draft to the next?

    • Good question, Ken. To me, it’s one pass through. Sometimes, a fresh re-write is helpful, but it’s not always necessary.

  • I use a lot of dialogue in my stories. Still not sure if that’s good or bad. I’m still remembering the teacher who told me to not use dialogue at all when I was in the fourth grade. I find I use words other “(s)he said”. I’ll write, “she snapped” or “he added.” I go with the flow of the dialogue, get down the emotion with those little, quick phrases and later go back and get rid of most of them, changing them to “said” and adding in actions like “smiling” or whatever. If I try and just use “said” I lose complete flow of the dialogue.

    • George McNeese

      My opinion on dialogue is that there has to be balance between it and detail. Also, if I need my character to convey emotion in their dialogue, I’ll use words other than “said” or “replied.”

  • George McNeese

    These are great tips. I have a difficult time writing a first draft in one sitting for two reasons. One, I don’t know what length of time constitutes a sitting. Two, I’m constantly editing myself before the first draft’s finished; it was worse when I used my laptop to do drafts. As a countermeasure, I write out the drafts rather than type. I still think about the edits, but it’s easier to get the ideas out.

  • I hope this isn’t too long. I just wrote it out. There’s not been any edits, so please forgive any errors you may spot:
    Elizabeth and Martin slowly moved through the suspect’s apartment. Dirty clothes and dishes were piled on everything. The skittering of tiny claws signaled a mouse running past Elizabeth. She shook her head. ‘How can anyone stand to live in this squalor? Especially when they don’t have to?’ She pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Green this time. She glanced at her partner. Martin riffled through a stack of mail when a king cockroach ran over his hand. He gave a yell and shook his hand.
    “Oh! Disgusting!”
    “You went high-pitched,” Elizabeth said with a smirk.
    “So not funny,” he said, “Did you see the size of that thing? I swear, I’m gonna be dreamin’ about Creepshow, tonight.”
    “Really?” Martin said with a grin. “Nineteen eighty-two movie. Directed by the legendary auteur George A. Romero. Written by horror master Stephan King. You’ve never heard of it?”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “Nope.”
    Martin shook his head. “You need to get out more.”
    She cocked her left eyebrow. “Nineteen eighty-two was a long time ago.”
    He chuckled again. He tossed the mail back on the stand by the front door and
    moved further into the suspect’s den. Kicking apart a pile of dirty clothes at the end of the couch, and recoiling from the eruption of roaches from within, he called, “Do you really think we’ll find anything linking the costumed man’s victims in here?”
    Elizabeth walked into the bedroom, which was even worse than the rest of the apartment. In addition to the dirty clothes and dishes, food cartons littered the surfaces of nearly everything. Some of them had leftover – things – which were no longer recognizable. The room had a putrid stench about it. She carefully picked her way through the mess and threw open the curtains and window. She turned and the sight of a squirming mass of maggots on the bed made her gag. Just then, she heard Martin’s question.
    “I sure hope so, and it’s quick,” she called in a thick voice.
    Tearing her eyes from the mess on the bed, Elizabeth looked under it. ‘Odd.’
    The space under the bed was perfectly clean.
    Martin smirked, hearing the distress in his partner’s voice. ‘She sounds like she’s gonna hurl.’ He walked into a small room off the main one and spotted an old wooden sea chest. ‘That’s got to be over a hundred years old. I wonder if it’s unlocked.’
    He squatted before the large trunk and experimentally flicked the thumb catches. Both popped open with satisfying sniks. Slowly raising the lid, he was disappointed to find the chest appeared to be empty except for a wadded up bundle of red crushed velvet. ‘Well, that sucked.’ Pushing to his feet, Martin looked around the room. Unlike the rest of the apartment, this room was immaculate. No longer distracted by the chest, the scent of orange oil could be detected. He sniffed, and then tilted his head. ‘Where is that coming from?’ He looked around the room, only now noticing the gleaming white walls and sparkling woodwork. The hardwood floor was polished to a high sheen, showing his reflection. After the rest of the apartment, this room was like an oasis. “Hey Lizzy! Come check this out! You’re not gonna believe your eyes.”

    Back in the bedroom, Elizabeth spotted an old looking ring. She reached under the bed and pulled it closer to her. The tip of her green glove snagged on a jutting splinter of wood and tore. The splinter drove itself deep into her finger. Instinctively, she jerked her hand back. Unfortunately, this rammed the rogue piece of wood further in. She looked closely at the splinter, cussing under her breath. The
    sharp pain caused her heart to race and her breathing to shorten. The wood rose
    from the pad of her finger like an exclamation point. She lifted it out of her skin with a hiss of pain and further swearing. Her finger throbbed. She pulled the glove off and stuck her finger in her mouth. Just then, she heard her partner’s call, so she left the room.
    Elizabeth picked her way carefully through the trash, debris and clothes until she reached the doorway of the room where Martin stood. Just as she came to a halt outside the room, a king cockroach scurried under where her foot was coming
    down and died with a loud pop. Martin whirled with his gun drawn. She didn’t
    even see him move. One second his back was to her and he was relaxed, and the
    next second, he was facing her with his weapon in her face.

    • jjjj

      a bit jumpy back and forth ‘like how a movie shows parts of an explosion twice due to a poor edit of the camera(angle) change…. still praise worthy. and inspiring to see,, keep it up <3

  • These are very good tips, some of which I can really relate. For example, I’ve in fact already done a first draft last year, and this year I’m planning to make the second one, which will indeed undergo major structural changes and that’s why I’m taking some time before writing it (and also because school is taken up all my life in this last year of high school) and I believe I’ll actually need a 3rd one to polish it!
    Anyway, great post!!


  • Great list of tips, as usual! I struggle the most with speaker tags. I never just write he said, she said. I hate reading he said, she said dialogue so I don’t write it either. I’m a firm believer that “Clara announced loudly” communicates more than “Clara said”. That’s the one rule I’m willing to stick my neck out on and try to be successful breaking! The rest of the rules I know I’m no where near good enough breaking successfully!

    • We should do a survey. I find it easier to ignore “he said/she said,” but I wonder how many prefer one or the other.

      • Ooh, that’s a good idea. I’m interested in what people think about that!

        • Wilbur Hunter

          I believe that an over-use of “he said, she said” creates an almost immature “style” but that, used in moderation, is perfectly fine.

  • Miles Allen

    Concise and pertinent. Very good tips.

  • Andy Walker

    This is a really helpful post, and I’ve already emailed it to another friend who is just about to start his first novel. Thanks so much!

    • You’re welcome, Andy. Thank you for sharing the post!

  • Thanks for the post. I work hard to follow 9 out of 10 of your suggestions. But I can’t imagine parting with any of my characters, especially the protagonist. I think I’ll let that idea marinate for a future story. Who knows?

  • Azhar Ali

    It is not possible for me to write a story in one sitting.

    • Charles

      Me neither. Mine tend to write themselves into novellas.

  • seventh_grader123

    The rain drummed softly on the window. I
    sat beside my bedroom looking at the outside world, wet, cold and grey…kind of
    like my heart. My name is Sherrin and this is the story of the mid-teen life
    crisis my kind goes through

    Today was Friday I was hoping to watch
    the movie ‘Percy Jackson the Sea of Monsters’ tonight. But the rain just
    wouldn’t stop pouring. Me and my dog were the only ones here. My friends
    ditched me … my so-called popular brother did too just to go to this one huge
    Christmas party. I mean all a girl asks for is a little attention and she gets
    nothing. Instead the one throwing the party, the pretty popular and incredibly
    stupid head cheerleader who is super mean to us, the nerd gets all the
    attention. She is the total opposite of me and the worst thing is that my
    brother my own blood hangs out with her!

    Me and Brianna (the head cheerleader)
    used to be good friends in preschool, but one day she just stopped talking to
    me and then we just started to grow apart. One day she changed so much all she
    did was humiliate her friends and back-talked about everyone. I guess time
    changes people fast… very fast! Since that day onwards I have not talked or
    even looked at her… but still her bragging didn’t stop!

    She sank so low that she started to pick
    on me everyday of elementary school she took my bag and put it in the garbage
    bin and humiliated me with stupid names. At some time of the year she started
    to throw ice-cold slushies over my clothes in front of the whole school. I had
    to start bringing in an extra pair of clothes and keep them in my locker to
    change everyday!

    Honestly I don’t get why my friends were
    even invited to her party and the biggest question is why did they go even when
    they knew I wasn’t invited and it would make me feel lonely and disheartened.

    It was not even ten when I got a call
    from my best friend Lucy.

    She was crying so badly I knew at once that
    Brianna had done something so horrible and manipulative that no one could ever

    Her cousin who was in a hurry dropped
    her off at my house.

    I made hot cocoa for her while she
    cleaned her face and changed into the comfy and cozy clothes I gave her. She
    calmed down a bit and told me the whole incident that happened. There she was
    eating a slice of hot cheesy pizza when Brianna went up on the stage and
    thanked everyone for coming. I figured that wasn’t the only reason why she was
    up there by the tone Lucy was using. Brianna then mysteriously started to say
    things that no one knew about Lucy except me and then she told her dj to ‘hit

    I as so eager to know what it was but
    when she told me I was shocked myself. She had the video of me and her dancing
    to a silly song back when we were eleven and we were jumping on the bed and Lucy
    fell and broke her front two teeth…she was crying so bad. Everyone over there
    laughed so hard that one guy almost fell.

    There was just this one thing I couldn’t
    understand. How did Brianna get the video? It was in my computer and the only
    one with the access to it is my brother and I. And I am very sure I didn’t give
    it so did my brother give it? I mean sure he is a little self-centered but
    could he be such a mean and foolish monster? Is my brother the real culprit? Is
    he the reason of my best friend’s tears? Well there is only one way to find out
    and that is…

    be continued…

    i don’t know what to write next

    • BlahtoVoila

      It was definitely a good choice to use the 1st person POV, since the writing, feelings, and storytelling with all the drama and fast pace really conveys teenage-hood–so believable, and would make this a fun realistic fiction. I love the on-going external conflicts and emotional over-load. You would mostly need to expand on relationships or character development and elaborate to really make your reader connect with the story, but definitely a great and sparkly first draft. Best of luck.

    • juanita couch

      You are so brave to get your story to the point it is at. Just listen to your heart and keep on writing. It will come together for you. If you need someone to help you with your story please feel free to contact me. I will be glad to help you where I can. Just go to nitacouch@gmail.com

    • a derp based #TFLIYS

      It’s your best to take out that “kind of” it’s distracting

    • LilianGardner

      Hi seventh-grader,
      Thanks for your post, which I can tell you’ve written from the heart.
      Life is often hard for a teenager and you’ve expressed your problems and difficulties clearly.
      Don’t mind if I say that some essential punctuation is missing from your text. Perhaps you can write a second draft with help from a friend or grownup who knows the rules on grammar.
      Best of luck for the continuation of your story.

    • Hmmmm…

      – As others have said, you certainly captured the struggles of being a teenager. There are those that are so cruel, and often for no good reason. Thankfully you did not rehash something hollywood came up with.
      – I like how you gave the speaker personality, such as using “kind of” a bit. It actually sounds like I’m reading a teenager writing it.
      – where you left off… If that was a chapter ending, you certainly left the reader wanting more. This is a good thing!

      – Grammar/punctuation is definitely in need of a clean up. But that’s a first draft for you. The first casualty is correct grammar!
      – Why no dialogue? Without the dialogue it reads more like a diary entry than a short story. Perhaps in draft two edit so Lucy is telling what Brianna did to her, instead of just the protagonist doing the talking?

  • brooklyn

    hi i am new to writing is this story alright? here it is:


    By: Autumn Harrigan

    Chapter 1

    The Note

    the snow falling ever so softly, the horrendous winds blowing as a
    human blows on an ant, a faun walked through the snow slowing down
    with every step. Looking up ahead, something had fallen from the
    trees. “What was that?” Fauna
    asked herself, looking about until her eyes slowly came to a brown
    parcel locked with chains and an old fashion pad lock. Picking up
    the parcel, Fauna thought, What
    is with the lock? Where did it come from?
    Looking up into the trees snow fell, blinding her for just a second.
    Something moved behind her, she spun around something flashed in
    front of her. She turned around again, picked up her umbrella and
    shot of like a bullet. She found that the wind had died and the snow
    had stopped falling. As she came to the mountain side she
    disappeared into the door cut in the mountain. The door was so
    camouflaged that she was sure that she was safe. Little did she know
    a hawk gazed down on the door watching her every movement until she
    was in the house, under the mountain. Once inside she inspected the
    parcel very carefully, while inspecting it she found a note which
    said the following: The
    key, of which you are trying to find, is hidden. Inside you will
    find three things and they will help you on your journey to who knows
    where. Please stay safe and do not let any one know what you have
    Fauna. You will find directions to the key for this parcel below.


    Find the cavern on this mountain.
    Find the mouse. Answer his riddle and find the key.
    ome and find

    Well that is one weird help message, I guess
    I could go and find the key or else the curiosity just might kill
    this faun. I wonder who sent me this package…well I guess it would
    be someone that knows me.

    Chapter 2

    The Knock
    that Started it all

    5 years ago…in the center of Arendelle.

    Knock, Knock, Knock. “Sissy, they’re here,
    they’re here!!!!!!!!!”, yelled Adele running around the house.
    “What?…Whose here?” Fauna replied just waking up from her nap.
    “Queen Elsa and Princess Anna!!!!!!!!!”, screamed Adele, “didn’t
    father tell you that they were coming today? You know before he left
    on the voyage to go with King Alexander and Queen Estella…aren’t
    you going to answer the door?” she asked, refusing to go into a
    murky mood. “Yes, may I help you?” she asked the 2 distinguished
    looking men, as she opened the door. “Ma’am, my name is Dominic
    and this here is Christian, we are guards from the castle. We got an
    anonymous call saying that someone here in this house was going to
    kidnap one of the princesses today before the coronation. In other
    words we are here to arrest you and anyone else in this house.”
    replied Dominic. “But we, my sister and I, didn’t do anything
    wrong we have never planned anything. We are legal citizens of
    Arendelle, and are living alone. I am 15 and she is 10…” Fauna
    answered back to his accusations. “Hey, Fauna don’t make them
    stand out side! Invite them in,” Adele cried out, pushing Fauna
    out of the way, “whoa, wait a sec they aren’t the queen and
    princess! Who are they?” “We are here to arrest you and your
    sister for planning to kidnap one of the princesses” Christian
    said while putting handcuffs on her. “Wait don’t take Adele, I
    will go willingly only if you let her go, though. Just don’t harm
    her.” Fauna whispered quietly, Christian took the handcuffs off of
    Adele and put them onto Fauna. “Wait, Fauna you can’t leave me.
    How will I make a living, how will I get food. How can I live
    without you,
    since mother died and father disappeared. You can’t leave…”
    Adele cried out but was stopped when Dominic put a knife to her
    throat and said “If you speak another word then I will end your
    blabbing once and for all. Christian take Fauna to the Castle
    dungeons, and I’ll take care of Adele.” As Christian was taking
    Fauna away, Dominic dragged Adele to the city court house “I have
    brought this girl to turn her in because she attacked me from
    behind.” Dominic told one of the guards, hinting that he wanted to
    have a trial. “Well… let me check to see if the judge has an
    open slot for a trial today…” replied the guard, checking the
    roster, “yep, at 5:00 tonight there is an opening do you want to
    press charges?” “Of course, I want her hung!” cried out
    Dominic. After the guard put Adele in to a cell Dominic went out
    throughout the city and found some people who would be able to act as
    witnesses during the attack and bribed them with $100 each.

    Chapter 3


    After the trial
    Adele was found guilty. At dawn the next day the guards hung Adele.
    Before she was hung, when she was found guilty she knew that she was
    defeated. Back at the castle, Fauna was brought before Princess Anna
    and Queen Elsa. Elsa took one look at her and felt sorry for her,
    but for her and her sister’s safety she had Christian take her to the
    dungeons. Later after the coronation Elsa and Anna were talking
    about Fauna. “Elsa,” Anna started, “why didn’t you set Fauna
    free when you know that she is/was not the kidnapper?” “Because
    I know that the guards were just trying to protect us.” Elsa
    replied without any emotion. “But now we cannot set her free
    unless she has a trial and is found innocent.” exclaimed Anna.
    Elsa replied with a mischievous smile on her face, “That is why I
    am going to sneak her out and let her go free, tonight, and I’m
    going to have her leave Arendelle.”

    • Mark Fray

      You’re a good writer. You totally held my attention in the first chapter!

      • By:Runeem Al Abssi

        read my short story please

        • Jean Maples

          I just read it. I thought the old cliches worked nicely. You are onto a good idea for a story, but I want some kind of resolution. Life is so bad, you kill yourself, or find insight into making your life better and happier. Downhill all the way didn’t satisfy me.

    • Lovely Khushi

      i liked that story…………… very much……..

      • maleeha tahir

        I think it has a good story line and suitably vast vocabulary but it is rather a little fast paced at certain places.

    • ElPatito

      As a critical writer, I think your story was too dry and uncreative. You can do better as long as you believe. Details are key but too much can make the story seem amateur like in a way.

      • Earth2Lixie

        I completelu agree with you, Elpatito. This seems to be a mix of different fandoms; spark some life with original characters!

      • Megan Brown-LaCarte

        I agree as well, and I think the writer could definitely benefit from varying sentence lengths, I found it made the story a bit monotone since it seems to be unintentional.

  • Critter

    Hello! I stumbled upon this page and I’m very inspired. I’m not a native speaker which means I’m stuck in grammar.

    2nd problem is that: Do i need to write in a past tense in the whole story or write it on present. gawd! help. Or I can do it randomly (any tenses)? Confusing, really. 🙁

    • Vicki

      Write your story or a chapter both ways. Then re-read them and decide which you like better. Many times the first person is the best. I, me, etc. writing in the past tense is easier and allows more room for your characters to tell the story.

  • lookin

    good one

  • adrian

    Addicted To You

    By;Adrian Marcelli

    Chapter 1 (excerpt)


    As i walked down the busy streets of the Big Apple i wondered why i hadn’t listened to Ava and got a ride home from Beckett, Oh that’s right because the offer to drive with my best friends creep of a boyfriend did not sound overly appealing to one such as myself no matter how much of my time it took to walk.
    Now reflecting on my decision i feel that if i had not let my petty judgement stop me from at least ensuring i did not die. Soon as i reached to dark corner of Joslyn and Maine i saw a body fall limply to the ground, I could do the -horror movie girl who gets killed first move and check it out or i could take off the heels i had on grab my portable flats and beat some Olympians record,i chose the latter.
    The hard stomps of my feet surrounded me as i felt it was the only thing i could hear at all. My mothers words pounded in my head like an orchestra of drums .

    I could not die tonight I will not die tonight.

  • Anonymous

    I am doing this for a school assignment and I would really appreciate any help or opinions.
    The once clear star-dotted sky is now shrouded in darkness. The dry gravel is now a small stream. The roaring engines are now a distant buzz and the cool breeze is now a fierce raging animal. I am stuck here in my worst nightmare!

  • Ro

    Walked into a hi-fi restaurant last evening with my
    wife. Hi-fi, an expression frequented by middle-class
    Indians while referring to something that’s either aspirational or tickles the comfort
    zones of their pockets. We’ll pretend to be as comfortable as Rukmani aunty
    wearing her first mini skirt. But we’ll never confess. Just like I’d want to
    believe that both me and my wife were at perfect ease.

    It’s probably the
    complexity of these restaurants that make them ‘hi-fi’. Think about it. If you stroll
    into an Udippi in Matunga, the last thing you’d expect is a waiter demanding
    your preference of drinking water. With words like regular, chilled, mineral
    and spring water thrown at you, you are expected to make an instant choice, lest
    you earn the tag of being the wannabe aristocratic guest.

    In an Udippi, the water is right there. On every table. Mostly in a steel glass. Take a sip and you’re glass is instantly refilled. You can even share a table with a stranger.
    Unlike the hi-fi restaurant, the menu here is more like a familiar neighbour. Even the most bizarre sounding dosa won’t startle you when it arrives. You’ll get your order within minutes. And soon before you take your last bite and burp, your bill arrives. So you’re spared the trouble of calling for a cheque, which in here would still mean a piece of paper used for banking transactions.

    It’s very easy to spot the people who fit in to such places and those who try hard to. Look around and you’ll find families mostly in fours (father, mother and two kids). And
    why not. After all, this is a family restaurant and bar. So the head of the
    family walks in, followed by his clan. He has an air of supremacy to his gait
    as he sizes up the place. As his eyes wander about, he tries to mark the check boxes that have freshly brewed up in his mind.

    1. Not anywhere near
    the wash basin

    2. My wife should sit
    facing the least number of ogling men

    3. Where will I get
    the maximum cooling from the air-conditioner?

    4. Where can I get
    the best view of the sleek plasma tv?

    He tactically makes
    his selection and leads his family like a shepherd leading his flock.

    Look around and brimming
    with the sort of kindness that’s proportional to his daily wages, a waiter
    pre-assigned to your row of tables appears.

    • Anonymous

      Good….I liked it…..Especially the part about check boxes…….typical Indian male character……..Maybe you could be a writer like Chetan Bhagat… 🙂

  • varun bhalla

    My name is “VARUN BHALLA” I’am very near to end of my new story name #New_friend_in_the_city if you are intrested you can fallow me on twitter @varunbhalla30
    facebook: varunbhalla1990@live.com and you can whatsApp me also +919990773119
    Varun Bhalla

  • john ormerod

    ” The
    small set in the corner.”

    A television set
    stood in the corner of the room. Alone, friendless and switched-off. Years upon
    years of familey entertainment. Watching, laughing, crying, being moved, be it
    a sporting event, concert from a favoured icon to deaths of famous people who had
    felt as close as your nearest and dearest. You was once the life-blood of the
    familey, you was the soul where everybody interacted with. Oh the number of
    times a baseball player walked after ” strike three ” afterwhich a
    haft-empty beer-can went towards your merry way. Did you scream, moan, or
    turn-off in annoyance..? No, you got on with it. It was seen to be done. Of
    course they would thump you on the top, fists hitting your screen, children
    throwing toys, and the dog relieving its self behind you, making your workings
    hot to almost extinction. Oh how you could fight back… Tell them, warn them
    you are part of the familey. Would they listen if they could…And now, after
    so many years of service,are throwing you away for a wide-screen plasma
    internet tv. Don’t you miss the wobble picture? Mono sound, skies that should
    be blue, but red in the top corners and dressed in pure oak wood. Not plastic
    like the sucessor! At least you can mingle with the book-cases and funiture.
    Time is the enemy. Next door have got one…We want one too.

    You will be gone
    soon. Fogotten.

    Out with the old…in
    with the new tech. You see it. Unlike you, useless when not plugged-in. Even
    still inside your cardboard box, you seem more advanced. Happy, having
    something for the moment at least, power. How long, probably when that last
    white dot on your screen dims a slow death until nothing like but the deepest
    of outer space. You become a vold.

    Out of the box it
    comes. Nemisis.

    You wonder now what
    will happen…Is there an Heaven tv channel when you’re switched-off? Endless
    programmes and endless repeats. Joy. The wonderment of beyond, of a time
    yourself free from channel-hopping beer swilling viewers and soda-pop kids who
    watch without any thought on who actually brought them happiness…Me. Your old
    friend the tv in the corner.

    Its up on the wall.
    You never thought of that. You coundn’t get up there.You’re too fat!

    You look so right.
    You look so good up there, like a king. You down here, well, just down here.
    Nothing but a tv set in the corner.

    The familey watch. A
    grown-up plugs-in. Appollo 11. Lift-Off! Wow! Your reaction betrades
    you…”Gob-Smacked’s” the word… You want to subtitle it, but your
    defeated circuits let you down. You can only watch.

    Oh the colours…Oh
    the sounds…Beautiful.

    You can’t compete.

    Looking at you.
    Looking at you. Closer, an hand,,, lower,,, press,,, off…

    The small set in the
    corner has shut-down.

    ” Is there an
    Heaven tv channel? Anybody?

  • Sukhdeep

    Hi I am new writter who loves to write.Must read this amazing story Of a ROSE

    There were two roses .One being Red and other being White.One Day the White Rose in anger said to the Red Rose
    “Why Everyone Love you more than me ? Why you are more important and costlier than me? I am also beautiful like you than Why you presented as the symbol of Love and not me ?”
    Red Rose Smiled and replied
    “Long years ago ,My grand grandfather with his white Rose friend used to reside together in a garden.They were really good friends.He loved his friend so much.But the day ,the human got an idea to present his lover a rose.The human came in garden and got confused between my Grandpa(Red Rose) and his friend (White Rose) to pluck which coloured Rose for his lover.Both Roses were sleeping,but hearing the sound of feets of human ,my grandpa awakened.Seeing the human going to pluck the White Rose (His friend), to save his friend’s life my grandfather detached himself and made him fall on the ground near human’s feet .When Human noticed the Red rose at ground.He picked it and presented it to his lover.This saved the life of That white Rose .From that Day “The most plucked Flower is RED ROSE” which became the symbol of love.”
    After hearing the reply of Red Rose.White Rose replied
    “I Love you Mr.LOVE.You all red one are heroes of Love”
    Even A rose is doing his work for your Love .Respect his sacrifice.Be Happy,Be in LOVE.

    For more stories:

  • Valice Balauro

    Hi! Glad to have read this article. I’m just confused if it is alright to write a story having different point of views within the chapters. Is it possible to write Character A’s point of view in chapter 1 and then Character B’s point of view in chapter 2?

    • Good question, Val. A lot of authors have done that, including, notably, the last book of the Divergent series. Personally, I find it distracting when the POV changes during the narrative, but it’s definitely being done. I wouldn’t switch from 3rd person to 1st person or anything like that mid-way through, though. Hope that helps.

      • Val B.

        Thanks Mr. Joe. It’s just that sometimes I want to express how the other characters feel about the events but as I go on with the story I tell myself, “Uhh, I think it’ll confuse the reader.” Those thoughts just randomly pop out of my head. Thanks anyway:)

  • Mcki

    This is the beginning of my story. I’d greatly appreciate some feedback!

    ‘Is it over?’ She wondered as she lay motionlessly on the floor. Despite the warm, bright sun light shining through the smashed window into the empty, monochrome room, she felt cold and gloomy. She opened her blood stained eyes hoping that the insanity, the trauma and the pain had finally ended. Weakly, she pushed herself out of the sharp, piercing glass and the puddle of her own blood she was lying in. The adolescent stood feebly on her aching feet, her long, black, tousled hair only just touching the ground. She trudged towards the window she had smashed through to see the blazing, morning sun shine over the tall, city buildings. A relieved sigh uttered from her chapped lips. “The insanity… it’s finally over” She mumbled to herself with a warm smile on her face.

    “Ha,ha” A familiar, soulless voice came from behind her “The insanity has only just begun”

    • Dave Kruse

      Intriguing. I’d love to read more. Great start!

      • juanita couch

        I would also look forward to reading more.

    • Amery Love

      I’m looking to read more


      It was well written in a few ways but also very cliche with the blood, insanity, black haired adolescent female, and insanity. Make sure to maybe change up some things later so you can stay original. What I do like about it a lot though, is the surreal feel to it, which reminds me of a text adventure or something, haha.

    • Anthony Gibbs

      You’ve got my attention. I’m hooked enough to read more!

    • Coolkidwriter

      Great job so far! What i want to know is what just happened, and what is going to happen next! Maybe you can do that thing where you start the story one way, then go back and say what happened first?

    • Donald R. Calloway

      Your story has a great start, but may I suggest some grammatical issues? You should combine your first two sentences as follows: ‘Is it over,’ she wondered as she lay motionless on the floor? The words ‘sun’ and ‘light’ should be combined into the single word ‘sunlight.’ The sentence which begins, “The adolescent…” is missing a semi-colon. It should read as follows: The adolescent stood feebly on her aching feet; her long, black, tousled hair only just touching the ground. I hope these suggestions are as kindly received as they were delivered.

    • The first sentence: “Is it over?” Leads to more questions. Good way to begin a story, for sure, as it leaves the reader asking for more.

    • Melinda

      Here’s an awesome tip a fellow writer told me a few months ago – “don’t write redundantly.” For example, when you wrote “she lay motionlessly on the floor,” doesn’t lying on the floor already imply that she’s motionless? If you want to emphasize an emotional state there, you can add something implying that instead, because her physical state is already described enough to that extent.
      It’s a simple trick that can change the effectiveness of your prose in your snap. People just need to know about it, first. 🙂
      Good luck writing!

    • Naomi

      I love critiquing stories for people. I use a website called critique circle to get my stories critiqued. I’ll just point out the main things I see here.

      -First. Every time you begin dialog, start a new line/paragraph. Always.
      -Second sentence. While descriptive words are always good, too many can be overwhelming for the reader. Obviously it’s your writing, im just giving an example, but if it were me, personally I’d write it something more like… “Despite the warm rays of sunshine beaming through the broken shards of glass around the window, she still felt cold and gloomy in the empty room.” This just sounds like it reads better.
      -You can take out the word the before trauma and pain, it’s not needed.
      -Sharp and piercing both are basically the same description word. I’d use piercing and take out sharp
      -If she is lying in a puddle of glass and blood it is already implied that it’s her blood. Take out her own.
      -Describe her warm smile don’t just say it’s warm.
      -Very last sentence. Comma after her.

      I stopped commenting on your descriptions. I could go on but you get my point. I’m sorry if anything I wrote offends you. I only mean to be helpful. I do believe this is a great beginning. Good luck to you.

  • ALAN

    it works

  • rk

    its awesome
    do u know who I am, I am the great writer of india

  • rk

    ohh just joking m nt a great writer i am a child

  • Antonio Cruz

    After The Dark

    I woke up on January 1st 2014. It was still
    daylight out, a little cloudy, but still sunny. I looked at the alarm clock. 12:00,
    oh my god. I got out of bed and after I got on my clothes. I ran to school.
    Didn’t even look back. Even though my feet were bare. I couldn’t miss my
    favorite class on the last day of school. Mr. Talbot would kill me.

    After I reached my school I found that the doors
    were locked. Luckily 3 period just ended so someone had to notice me trying to
    get in. They’re were classes right next to the door. All the sudden RING, RING,
    RING. That’s the signal for a riot of teens and 18 year olds to run through the
    halls. Five, Four, Three, Two….. Ahhhhhhhh. Finally someone came and got the
    door for me. I ran right past them, and through a few students talking, to my
    fourth period class. Mr. Talbot wasn’t going to feast on my guts.

    Right as I walked in the bell rang. I knew that I
    would get absences in all my other classes. But that didn’t matter I didn’t get
    an absence in all of Mr. Talbots career. I wasn’t about to start on the last
    day. So what was Mr. Talbot going to do for creative writing today? A crazy
    free-write, read us Shakespeare, or even better let us go on a field trip. That
    would have been better than what was about to happen for the next year or so.

    After I walked to my seat he told us the
    assignment. What he said astounded me. “We are going to write about what would
    happen if we all got stuck in a nuclear warzone and to survive with only an old
    house and a basement that actually went deep enough for us to survive”. My jaw
    dropped to the floor. I was so excited and felt nauseas. The reason I was sick
    is because I knew that, that could actually happen.

    Mr. Talbot grabbed a box and he said “Since Tony
    was last in he is first served”. What did he mean? Well, he walked over to my
    desk and told me to pick a piece out of the box. After that he went over to my
    two friends Jack and Julia. I know it may sound weird but them and I have been
    friends since we were born. I was actually born in the same room as them both
    and I was even in the same kindergarten as them. So we have literally been best
    friends forever.

    Well once he was done handing them out, he said to
    open the pieces of paper that were folded in half. “I’m a carpenter”. Then Jack
    said “I’m an electrician. After Jack, Julia was up “I’m a psychologist”. We all
    had pretty good jobs. After figuring out that Uriah was a chelist

    • Antonio Cruz

      And thats all i’ve writen so far

  • Erin

    Dark Windows
    By Erin Swanson
    Chapter 1

    My heart began to race as we pulled off the highway. The green and white exit sign stared at me and I at it. We came to a stop and I braced for the right turn. The blinker only made my heart beat faster. The car began to accelerate and I kept my eyes glued to the view outside the passenger window. I’d rather look at the black of night than what was sitting on the left side of the road ahead. Should I look? I told myself I wouldn’t look. I counted the streetlights down. Only three more and I would be able to see it. Dark windows. The empty house- or was it?
    “It’s alright, Erin.” Shane tried reassuring me. He always tried to fix everything. “I know.” I grinned at him and his freckled face smiled back-a smile lined with love and concern. Then my heart began to drown again in it’s own dark pools of sorrow. It was coming. Closer. There was only one more streetlight to pass. Thick shadows crowded the edge of the pavement, crawling toward me-reaching out to pull me in. I told myself I wouldn’t look, but I did. My own regret of not coming home sooner made me feel responsible and it demanded that I look.
    Where there once stood an invitation to love and laughter now crouched in the dimly lit, murky corner. Where trees that once stood proudly now looked at me with depressed branches. Lifeless. I searched the dark windows, fearful of what might appear. A face. Maybe I should go inside, just to let him know I was home and he wouldn’t be alone any longer.
    But Pastor Monty said he wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be returning. “He’s with Jesus now.” I tried not to roll my eyes in respect for the Man of God who stood before me in the very room my father drew his last breath. He came to our home to bless it and the soul that may still linger there. Not for Jesus and the Devil, but for me not wanting to see an episode of Ghost Adventures at the house on North Bend Way. It wouldn’t feel right knowing a few ghost hunters would be trying to stir up my father for the collection of compelling evidence of paranormal activity.

  • Erin

    Dark Windows
    Erin Swanson
    Ch 1

    My heart began to race as we pulled off the highway. The green and white exit sign stared at me and I at it. We came to a stop and I braced for the right turn. The blinker only made my heart beat faster. The car began to accelerate and I kept my eyes glued to the view outside the passenger window. I’d rather look at the black of night than what was sitting on the left side of the road ahead. Should I look? I told myself I wouldn’t look. I counted the streetlights down. Only three more and I would be able to see it. Dark windows. The empty house- or was it?
    “It’s alright, Erin.” Shane tried reassuring me. He always tried to fix everything. “I know.” I grinned at him and his freckled face smiled back-a smile lined with love and concern. Then my heart began to drown again in it’s own dark pools of sorrow. It was coming. Closer. There was only one more streetlight to pass. Thick shadows crowded the edge of the pavement, crawling toward me-reaching out to pull me in. I told myself I wouldn’t look, but I did. My own regret of not coming home sooner made me feel responsible and it demanded that I look.
    Where there once stood an invitation to love and laughter now crouched in the dimly lit, murky corner. Where trees that once stood proudly now looked at me with depressed branches. Lifeless. I searched the dark windows, fearful of what might appear. A face. Maybe I should go inside, just to let him know I was home and he wouldn’t be alone any longer.
    But Pastor Monty said he wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be returning. “He’s with Jesus now.” I tried not to roll my eyes in respect for the Man of God who stood before me in the very room my father drew his last breath. He came to our home to bless it and the soul that may still linger there. Not for Jesus and the Devil, but for me not wanting to see an episode of Ghost Adventures at the house on North Bend Way. It wouldn’t feel right knowing a few ghost hunters would be trying to stir up my father for the collection of compelling evidence of paranormal activity.

    • darkocean

      Aww hope you don’t mind that this is not the first draft as I just found this blog now.

      Merryn bursts through the quiet of the shadowed forest, she blazes
      through it with a remarkable speed from the sprint spell she cast but
      seconds before. She weaves between the moss covered trees that rise
      above. Her goal of the road within sight.

      Every twig that snaps
      as she steps upon it seems louder to her than the ones before. She
      trembles and gasped for air, looking from side to side. Her heart thuds
      within in her chest, the blood traveling to her ears, it mutes the
      sounds of the forest. A sharp pain runs again along her side, taking her
      hand off the wound, her fingers drip with blood, that splatters on the

      Behind her is the clopping of the horses flooding her
      ears they perk up and quiver, terrified she weaves and jumps over fallen
      logs, tripping over dark roots threatening to tangle her feet. A branch
      catches on her blue hair, she stifles a scream before realizing what it
      was. Her legs wail at her to stop, yet she pushes them to run ever

      [italics:] I hadn’t meant to release that … that thing. How could I have known?

      • darkocean

        @Erin I like this it’s a nice description: “Thick shadows crowded the edge of the pavement, crawling toward me-reaching out to pull me in” Your story sounds interesting.

        • Erin

          Thank you for your feedback!!

  • Guest

    in The Wind – Chapter

    looked outside her window, and to her curiosity, people had gathered
    at the town center. Several people crowded around the center, though
    they specifically seemed to be standing in one area. Perhaps,
    she thought, I should ask my mom. I
    hope it isn’t anything too important.

    that note, she started to get ready. Easily she picked out what to
    wear, seeming to have it all in a list. In reality, she had simply
    randomly chosen from her wardrobe. My
    lucky bandana would likely be a good idea, huh? Especially if it is
    something important. Haphazardly
    she dug through her clothes pile, looking for something in
    particular. I
    haven’t worn this shirt in forever! Man, maybe I should take time to
    organize one of these days… Nah.

    fixed up (well, at least as much as she would bother), she headed for
    the kitchen. Sheepishly she rubbed the back of her neck. “So,
    what’s up with everyone today? They’re all crowding around the town
    center! Did I forget someone’s birthday?” Phoebe asked.

    mother shook her head, thought for a moment, and answered, “How
    could you forget? It’s time to find the new Apprentice to the Keeper
    of the Ember.”

    blinked in surprise. “Really?” she replied. In all honesty, she
    couldn’t believe she had forgot, considering that she had helped
    spread the ashes the other day. Especially with this being the most
    important day on the years that it happened. It was quadrennial, but
    it was also misplaced with the Leap Year, making it fairly rare.

    Look, why don’t you brush your hair and meet me outside? It shouldn’t
    be long.”

    gave a light sigh, but did what her mother had told her to do. She
    was slightly annoyed, for she had never enjoyed getting ready. Still,
    in the back of her mind, she knew she ought to, if not for more than
    the reason that it was a holiday.

    Phoebe stretched. Finding her mother, she wandered over to her. Her
    mother was deep in conversation and, not wishing to be rude, Phoebe
    left for the town center herself. After a while, her mother caught up
    with her.

    reaching the center, she looked for a decent spot to observe from.
    With a few bribes and some kind words, Phoebe was able to persuade
    her way to the front. While not much was happening right now, soon
    the ashes would reveal their secrets.

    was lucky that she had woken when she did, for in only a few minutes,
    the ceremony began. The oracle settled down at the table, setting
    down with him the bowl of the recently spread ashes. He began to
    chant and, as if by magic, the ashes were swept by the wind. At the
    very end, the oracle found the ashes in the wind.

    surprise, he commented, “This years Apprentice will be Phoebe.”
    Her mouth wide open, she gave a step back, embers flickering off of
    her hair. She stepped back in uncertainty, but the oracle reassured
    her, “Phoebe, you have been Chosen.”

  • I am so happy that I found this site! I find your Steps very helpful, Joe! Thank you!
    I have been wanting to write for years, and as a musician, I have only written song lyrics. Very detailed, and powerful lyrics that tell vivid stories, I might add! I plan to start out with at least a first draft, and go from there. I feel compelled to write both suspense/thriller, and science fiction stories. Perhaps I will incorporate the two into one great story!

    • Sci-fi thrillers have a long history, Dave. Good luck with your story! I’m glad you found us too! All the best!

      • Thanks, Joe. I added the Prologue to my story on your site, and was hoping for some feedback. Thanks, and take care!

  • Untitled
    by Dave Kruse

    Where am I? Hell, I don’t even remember what happened. All I know, is that I can’t see a thing, and my head is pounding. I can’t feel my legs, and there is a warm, wet feeling on my right arm. My breathing is labored, and I’m trying to use other senses to somehow gauge my surroundings.
    I detect a faint smell of something burning not too far away. Wood? Plastic? Or something else entirely? I’m not quite sure. There is also an uneasy silence in the air. I try to feel around with my hands. Nothing but dirt on the ground all around me. I must be outside somewhere. But where exactly? And why?
    Sure, I could yell for help, but would it come? Would anyone even hear me? What if I am not alone?
    I suddenly remember to reach into my shirt pocket to retrieve my cell phone, only to find it not there. Great. God, my right arm is killing me! How in the world did I get in this situation to begin with?
    Okay, let’s see what I do remember…my name is Sean Clayborne. I’m 34 years old, and I live in…..ow, my damn head hurts too much to think right now. Man, what happened to me?
    I still can’t see a thing. Am I blind? Or, is it night, and I am in pitch black darkness? Either way, I can’t just sit here. I have to somehow get out of wherever this is. Gotta push myself up off the ground one way, or another.
    Wait. What the hell was that noise? Someone is here. I hear footsteps behind me in the dirt.
    “Hello? Who’s there?” That was stupid, Sean, I thought to myself. What if someone beat the hell out of me, and they are still here, waiting to finish me off?
    No response came from my inquiry. The footsteps grew louder, and closer. I can now hear what sounds like shallow bellowing, like some large animal would do.
    I am more fearful for my life, than ever before. I have no idea who is here, or what they want with me. Are they benevolent, or malevolent? Are they here to help me, or to kill me? I assumed the latter.
    I felt a large, tough-skinned hand go over my eyes, and suddenly, a bright light shot through my head. Not painful, nor pleasant, either. My entire body became numb. I felt nothing, not even emotion.
    Then, my whole world went dark again…..

  • This is a great guide. I’m planning on referring back to it as I complete my writing projects. 🙂

  • Here is an edited version of the prologue to my story. I hope you all like it. 🙂

    by Dave Kruse
    Written: November 25, 2014…
    Edited: November 29, 2014


    Where am I? I don’t even remember what happened. All I know, is that I
    can’t see a thing, and my head is pounding. I can’t feel my legs. There is a
    warm, wet feeling on my right arm. Am I bleeding? I feel as if I can barely move at all. My breathing is labored, and I’m trying to
    use other senses to somehow gauge my surroundings.
    I detect a faint smell of something burning not too far away. Wood? Plastic?
    Or something else entirely? I’m not quite sure. There is also an uneasy silence
    in the air. I try to feel around with my hands. Nothing but dirt on the ground
    all around me. I must be outside somewhere. But where exactly? And why?
    I’m neither hot, nor cold; but somewhere in between.
    Sure, I could yell for help, but would it come? Would anyone even hear me?
    What if I am not alone? What if I am simply dreaming? If so, I am more than ready to wake up!
    I suddenly remember to reach into my shirt pocket to retrieve my cell phone,
    only to find it not there. Great. Can’t think of where I might have left it. I’m positive I had it.
    Man, my right arm is killing me! What is going on here?
    Okay, let’s see what I do remember…my name is Sean Clayborne. I’m 34 years
    old, and I live in…..ow, my head hurts far too much to think right now. Seriously,
    what happened to me?
    I still can’t see a thing. Am I blind? Or, is it night, and I am in pitch
    black darkness? Either way, I can’t just sit here. I have to somehow get out of wherever this is. Gotta push myself up off the ground one way, or another.
    Wait. What was that noise? I’m sure I heard something. Someone is definitely here. I heard footsteps behind
    me in the dirt.
    “Hello? Who’s there?” That was stupid, Sean, I thought to myself. What if
    someone mugged me, and they are still here, waiting to finish me
    No response came from my inquiry. The footsteps grew louder, and closer. I can now hear what sounds like shallow bellowing, like some large animal would do. This can’t be right.
    I am fearful for my life, now more than ever. I have no idea who is here,
    or what they want with me. I don’t even know where here is!
    Are they here to help me, or to kill me? I assumed the latter, considering my condition.
    I felt a large, tough-skinned hand go over my eyes; and suddenly, a bright
    light shot through my head. Not painful, nor pleasant, either. My entire body became numb. I felt nothing, not even emotion. How can this be?

    Then, my whole world went dark again…..

    • Madalynn

      So I have been writing for as long as I can remember but for Literally the past year I have not written down a single literary thought. I have all these ideas and feelings I want to get out and I always have It completely invisioned in my head until I get to the notebook. Then I cant find a way to form it kinda. I feel like I cant get everything COMPLETELY down so I quit. Thats it and I am on the Borderline of madness. Im stuck with all of these feelings but I cant let myself get them out. I buy different notebooks for my thoughts to inspire me but I guess that if I make it an official story then I cant use it anymore, like if I do the one thing I want to do I wont be able to go back and it wont be mine anymore. If you are confused by now then I dont blame you because I have totally no idea how to express this. I guess another way to put it is that I dont want to put a lable on my ideas because I feel like I cant take it off. Anyway that has been my recent and still ongoing writers block experience. But for the past week I have just written. I didnt think of how it could be perfect or how it would be viewed to others I just let go and it feels amazing. There have been a few stories that have just been screeming at my creative mind and I have gotten one started that I think I can keep at. Not a story I even care about sharing with the world as a writer but just for me to get out so I wont go crazy. So my point comes across that I need a form of a pen pal. I want to draft and draft like crazy with someones input. Would anyone be willing to speak by eamail for A few months and help eachother with writing? I would love to send you my prolougue to what I have now and discuss whats staying and going and so on and so forth. Please please please. My eamil is madalynn.nilaree@gmail.com anyone is welcome I really need this and Ill probably be on this story for a really long time so please contact me anytime!!!!!

  • Name

    Alright, I’m new to writing, so here’s my go at it:

    Sunlight from the just rising sun beamed down on the forest below, illuminating the various trees that grew side by side. Animals stirred drearily as their slumber was forcefully ripped away, signaling the start of a new day.

    Some of the animals that had stayed up during the course of the night welcomed the sunshine as a beacon to return to the dream world, while others stirred drearily as their slumber was forcefully ripped away by the beams of light.

    Yet with all of the forest beginning to move, wether it be heading back to bed or scurrying off in search if food, a darkened cottage that stood in the middle of a patch of grass remained silent this morning.

    It was old, the few patches of white paint that remained on it chipping away to reveal black, rotting wood. It also had a huge, gaping hole in the front, looking to be the place where a door once resided. Insects, even birds, resided within the rotting wood, living in the comfort of the deteriorating house. Normally they’d be awake with the rest of the forest, but with protection from the sun their bodies remained still.

    The inside was no better from the outside, still and unwelcoming. A dog growled in it’s sleep from under a pile of leaves in the kitchen, rustling from a crow landing somehow entering its dream. The many holes in the roof helped the animals that lived within see what little of the cottage remained, though they didn’t pay much to it, besides that it was shelter from the cruel outdoor’s wakening sun.

    Just an idea.

  • Jo

    That story is very nice and artistic. I want to write like you!

  • Avery

    This helped me a lot! The part that really helps is that I’m writing about the Battle of the Alamo, and there’s a /lot/ of death. I’ve already finished chapter one(below). I was wondering if maybe anyone has any tips to help me along?

    Days of Glory Relived


    Handsome Face

    Sure glad we brought extra water!” Misty laughed softly. Sweat
    rolled down Jolene’s back as she took a swig of water, sighing with
    relief as it slid down her throat.

    and Misty were both attending West Texas A&M, hoping to become
    famous historians one day. “We’ll be in history books, like the
    ones we’ve been reading our entire lives!” Jolene remembered her
    friend saying one day. “Just as famous as any pop star!” Misty
    had joked soon after.

    shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for the guide to lead her
    class through the renowned Alamo. “I’ve been looking forward to
    this for years!” She squealed. “I’ll finally be able to see the
    Growing up in the Texas Panhandle, she had only dreamed of traveling
    all the way down to San Antonio, Texas, to see the site of the most
    famous battle in the state.

    Misty’s light brown
    hair bounced around as she listened to her music, bobbing her head to
    the beat. At last, a tall Mexican woman came to their group’s aid,
    leading the way. Jolene gave her friend’s earbuds a playful tug.
    “Come on, beat-locks,” she teased.

    “Welcome to the
    Alamo! Please, no pictures in the museum. Now, if you’d all step this

    barely listened to the lady’s words as she scanned the wall, lined
    with facts and pictures illustrating the events of the battle. All of
    it was memorized already, but she couldn’t get enough of the exciting
    stories. Sure, lives were lost, but it was about two hundred versus
    six thousand, and that two hundred killed like sixteen thousand of
    the Mexican army! It was too admirable to think of the death; it
    seemed so minor.

    Mesmerized by the
    facts, Jolene pulled her dirty blonde hair into a neat bun to keep
    out the heat. Misty was busy observing the intricate details on the
    paintings of famous defenders of the Alamo when something caught her
    eye. A man, just a few years older than she, staring at her from the
    doorway to the famous chapel. He had a small, pleasant grin as he
    focused on her. Her dark skin turned a hue of red at the kind
    gesture. Then, with a quick turn, he walked around the corner of the
    doorway, stepping into the Alamo.

    Misty held her
    breath, grabbing Jolene by the shoulder. “Come on!” she hissed,
    tugging her forward. Jolene didn’t protest at her friend’s usual
    crazy antics, allowing her to pull her through the doorway.

    man wasn’t there. “B-but he came in here!” Misty gasped, biting
    her lip.

    “Misty, what are
    you talking about?” Jolene asked, trying not to laugh.

    “That… that guy,
    he walked right through the doorway, here.”

    Jolene rolled her
    eyes, pulling her arm free and turning away.

    “Jolene, wait!”
    Misty said desperately. “I saw a man… he looked…” She shook
    her head, frusturated. “He looked young… only a little older than
    us… but,” She glanced up to face Jolene. “He was dressed as if
    he was from the eighteen hundreds or something.”

    Jolene sighed.
    “Misty, I want to believe you,” she explained, “-but you’re not
    honestly telling me that you saw a ghost or something.”

    Misty’s frame was
    dwarfed compared to how tall Jolene was, and now she just felt

    have to believe me,” she finally spoke. Jolene scoffed and walked

    Suddenly a gust a
    wind came through the door. It tossed their hair up, shoved them
    back,and made their clothes flap around loudly. Jolene let out a
    shriek. “Misty!” she called frantically, arms shielding her face.
    Dust stung their eyes as they linked hands to stay together.

    just like that, thee wind had stopped. Only for some reason, the
    group wasn’t there. Neither were other tourists, or a lovely green
    display of trees, cacti, and multicolored flowers. Everything was
    just dirt for the acres around them.

    There were men
    hurrying around, some boarding windows and the like, others carrying
    hay and feed to a pen of cattle and horses. Most wore hats and coats
    to protect from the wind. Misty gasped loudly, seeing that their own
    jeans and t-shirts had been replaced with solid-colored dresses that
    hung down to their ankles.

    Jolene could barely
    take all of it in before a man bumped into her. A fiddle dropped to
    the ground, and they grabbed each others forearms to steady
    themselves. “My sincerest apologies, marm,” he chuckled. She
    gasped at his handsome, all-too-familiar face and renowned coonskin
    cap. “D-David Crockett,” she stuttered. He smiled, “The one and
    only!” Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the
    fiddle, bow in hand. “Now I suggest you get up to the chapel. The
    courtyards ain’t a place for a pretty lady to be during battle.”
    She gulped, only able to nod in her shock.

    grinned. “And don’t forget your uh, servant.” He reminded her,
    jogging away. Misty let out a cry of surprise. “Wait a minute, did
    he just call me your slave?!” she growled. “I deserve more
    respect than this-”

    “Shush!” Jolene
    wrapped her hand over her mouth, pulling her to the wall. “Don’t
    you realize.” she whispered. “Our clothes, the full building, you
    being called a slave, Davy freaking Crockett! Misty, we’re part of
    the Battle of the Alamo!”

  • Tanuki56

    It was a night in November when a tragedy happened.

    The immense heat was bitter, savage and cruel. Its
    malevolent flames lashed out angrily, spitting fire at the victims of
    everything kind and innocent. It ate through the walls like they were made of
    thin paper, forced the wooden framed furniture to surrender into vestiges of
    themselves and bathed the wavering air with billows of dark fumes like a
    nefarious smoker without regard.

    The fire elicited screams from the neighbouring homes and
    people scrambled, fumbled and stumbled over their own shadows, the flames
    filling their eyes and fear fueling their erratic movements. The ominous smoke
    infused their nostrils, tainted their clean lungs and left them choking and
    gasping like fish thrown out of the ocean and left to die. In the night’s
    chaos, the grotesque sides of each and every person were spilled open from
    their hiding spots and exposed vividly like the singular thunderous crackling
    of fire, running profoundly through the intricacies of the winding streets.

    The roads became ribbons with unwanted knots forced through
    their length and buildings groaned in dismay as their cement legs snapped
    beneath them like thin toothpicks. Beneath the infinite darkness of the sky,
    the earth contorted with a tormented roar, its mien breaking into crooked deep
    cracks, tearing the rolling green ocean of trees and disfiguring the entire
    surface of the destroyed town.

    Snow seemed to be god’s futile attempt to placate the fire
    when the tragedy happened.

    Buried ankle-deep in a light shower of snow, a child was
    forgotten in the midst of the chaos. The child trudged through the streets, her
    dark hair straggling over her eyes and a silver chain trailing from her
    ash-coated fingers. One shoe was missing and the other was frayed at the front,
    exposing her tiny toes to the cold assault and rendering them numb. Despite the
    girl being physically unharmed, her usual angelic voice was distorted in a
    broken wail of excruciating pain and her movements trembled with hurt. The
    forgotten child appeared to float through the streets like a ghost, regressing
    into a shell of what she used to be.

    In the reflection of her ruby eyes, the fire roared like a
    bad monster gone astray. It flanked her on both sides and licked dangerously
    close like a menacing tide along the coast. She gazed unseeingly into the massive
    ocean of flames and destruction, and presumed with a tinge of wild fear that it
    bore no surface. Holding one small vulnerable hand out, the snowflakes trickled
    into her palm with her cascading silver tears like taps left running.

    In the distance, everything fizzled and died out.

    Just something short. I’d like feedback please on whether or not I have the potential to become a writer. It is my dream to hold my own book in my hands. Thank you for taking the time to read 🙂

    • Avery

      Excuse my language but…..

      Holy shit, that was some good reading. 😉

    • JennyM

      It sounds incredible. The beginning draws me in and I become so intrigued to the point where I wish it continued. You definitely have the potential to, not only be a writer, but great one at that.

  • By:Runeem Al Abssi

    By:Runeem Al Abssi


    You want to know what really sucks? Knowing that you risked your own damn reputation for someone who hears all the other students talk about you in a bad way and doesn’t say anything about it.It’s as though she’s deaf.Like she has no ears.Ehen I stand up for her,the put words in my mouth as if I haven’t eate for days.My name is like gum.The keep chewing on it and you can find it anywere but mostly in the garbage along with your ability to breathe.Don’t mind the age or the height comparison.No matter how small the are,the will always look at you and think of you like an ant.Your words are spoken yet to small to be heard.Your tears are shedding but too sorrow to be seen.Your mind is open,yet locked with a key.The things the lie about,the words the speak about you,are words and sentences that no human being should hear.The used to say that sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me the are wrong bevause you heal from sticks and stones but words can scar you for life.You got a pack of wolves that know the truth is spoken the way you speak it but then you got a load of hungry lions,ready to feast off of anything that comes their way.

    The are always the ones to say suicide is stupid but personally,I don’t think its stupid.What’s stupid is the fact that you would treat someone so badly to the point where the would want to end their life.To the point where the can’t find other reasons to breathe.To the point where all their little dreams just got run over by a car 50 times repeatedly.To the point you read quotes to try making your self feel better.You say things like Your skin is not paper,don’t cut it,Your face isn’t a mask don’t hide it,Your size isn’t a book,don’t judge it,Your life isn’t a film,don’t end it.You want to know what else is stupid?Pushing people down to the ground till the can’t say stop anymore just so you can feel good about yourself,so that you can feel strong,so that you can feel invincible.But in reality,you’re as weak as a twig.In matter of fact,you aree much weaker than a twig cause all you can do is step on peoples hearts but what you cant do is tell your self the truth.You lie so much to the point where you started believing yourself.Why?Why does this satisfy you?Breaking people down to pieces,believing your own lies,how does this make you feel good?I don’t want to know.I need to know.

    • By:Runeem Al Abssi


      • Just another writer

        That was really good. The comparisons were excellent, and the way you narrated it made me feel for the character. However, I found it too straightforward. I’m not quite sure whether this was just the intro to your story, but I think adding a scene to introduce the character’s situation (instead of him/her explaining it themselves) would be much more effective. You could even add some metaphors and symbolism into it too. Also, try not to make the book too dark at the beginning. You might want to bring the full-fledged emotion roller coaster in the middle/ towards the ending. Hope this helps 🙂

    • Coolkidwriter

      Good so far, but sometimes I got confused with what you were trying to say. Maybe you can fix this?

  • milatyn

    good job

  • milatyn


  • emma_anne_hunt

    Hi! I’m fourteen turning fifteen and I’m thinking of writing a book! It’s a fiction/fantasy book and it’s ll about this made-up world where dragons and humans live in harmony as allies and stuff. Anyways, please read and comment!!

    ~~ 1 ~~

    If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. No, scratch that, I’d be twelve feet under instead of six by the look Ms Re Pugnant was giving me. Her ice blue eyes showed how insane and heartless she was, watching me with the most deadliest glare a human could muster. I also doubt this woman was human, since she looked and was so ancient that I think she killed the old Kings in the Medieval Ages with her gnarled, bare hands. I guess those men couldn’t escape the deadly red nail polish and sharp fake nails fast enough, those poor blokes. The weird thing about why she is so loathsome towards me is because I have no idea what I did wrong to her! Even her little pet dragon (Merlin, I think) is glaring at me with the most wicked look in his eyes, like he wants to scalp me with those little sharp claws at the end of his toes and feed me to a bunch of Scavenging Wyverns!

    I mean, all I did was enter the public library to find a good book!

    “What book are you after today, Kayla? I mean, choose something already,” The old lady snarls from behind her librarian desk, “When you get the book, though, check out as fast as you can, I don’t want to see your young face anymore until you come to get another one. And even then, I despise seeing all of you disgusting delinquents your parents call teens entering this knowledgeable sanctuary!”

    “Yes, Ms Repugnant.” I walk off into the library, trying to block out her little protests against how I had just said her name.

    “It’s Re Pugnant, hear me? You pronounce it Ray-Pug-Nont! You filthy little teenager!” She screams, despite the odd looks the readers who were milling around gave her, “And don’t you go near the classics ever, you pillaging little dirt blot! I’ll never allow your grubby, grimy little teenaged hands on Moby Dick or Tom Sawyer! Or any other classic, for that fact!”

    “Sorry, Ms Re Pugnant, but could you please keep your voice down? You’re disrupting your own library.” Ms Re Pugnant’s assistant, Mrs Abel, tells the old lady.

    I couldn’t hear what they were saying after that, since I had recently and successfully blocked the two librarians (well, one librarian and her assistant), and was searching through the shelves lined to the max with the most wide range of book content I had ever seen. Old text, new text, fact, fiction, even stories on a world without dragons! Despite the imagination of some writers, I could never believe that there was a world in which dragons don’t exist! I mean, our world is chock-full of dragons of all different shapes and sizes, in fact, I think life without them would be completely and utterly odd.

    My hands skimmed each and every spine, my eyes darting through the titles and authors engraved onto their spine-face, searching for one I hadn’t read yet. In the end, I had to give up after almost an hour of nothing even catching my eye. I had obviously read all these Dragon Guides, since I remember every bit of text from each of the books I had seen on the shelf. It was an almost accomplished yet annoying feeling all rolled into one. It was infuriating that I couldn’t even find a book to spend my last weekend of holiday with, just relaxing and reading without any distractions from anything else.

    “Found anything yet, Kayla?” Ms Re Pugnant hisses, throwing books onto the shelves from the cart.

    “I haven’t found one yet, ma’am,” I say politely, ignoring her distaste in saying my name, “But could you please tell me where I can find another section on dragon history?”
    “Now listen here, you little swine,” She whips around quickly to glare at me, “You always ask the helper dragons where a book or section is, and you know that! I don’t have time to deal with you ignorant fools.”

    Isn’t the librarian supposed to keep record of the books and actually do something besides glare until she’s cross eyed and tell everyone but herself to shut up?

    “Oh, uh-” I just scratch the back of my neck, “Thank you Miss Re Pugnant! Sorry for disturbing you!”


    By the way, some of my work is on wattpad. My name is @emma_anne_hunt and you can check out my friends work too by clicking on their names in my follower list. Thanks!

    Novice writer,
    Emma Anne Hunt

  • Lovely Khushi

    i wanted to ask something……………..
    if we want to write a movie…., so we should write only the main things… or with dialogue…. or what???????????? plzzzzzz sm1 tell me

  • Lovely Khushi

    I am 13 n i have an awesome story to write a movie or a novel butttt……….. I donnot think i can i mean i donot know how to

  • Johnathon

    Hey, everyone. I have a motivation issue when it comes to writing. I never seem to be able to continue anything I start. It’s actually a curse I have in life. I do something midway and slowly give up on it. Anyone have any tips for motivation?

    Also.. I did have a dream last night and wanted to write about it. I came up with this general writing about thirty minutes ago. From how I usually am, I may not pick it up again. Here we are, though.

    I’ve been there before. The feeling of being alone due to choice. It’s a very crude concept in my eyes, but isolation certainly gets the job done when you need it. In fact, that’s pretty much exactly what I was using to cope with the situation that I had been suddenly put in before.

    I could feel the fabric underneath my skin. It felt like sheets, and the cover of the blanket was resting close to my chin. I pushed it off, and attempted to get up. Dizziness overwhelmed me and before I came to, I was back on the bed. I tried to get up again, this time slowly. That’s when the door opened in front of me bringing a very familiar disinfectant smell that I’ve had the blessing to be able to smell multiple times when I’ve injured myself before.

    I looked at the coated man, and he stared at me in shock.

    “What are you doing?! Lay down before you kill yourself!” He said. He dropped his clipboard to the ground and hurriedly laid me back down on the bed. He looked scared to touch me, like the simplest graze would injure me greatly. I watched him panic and call various nurses and psychologists into the phone that was hanging from the wall next to the door.

    “Where’s Laura?” I asked. Deep down, I already knew the answer. I wouldn’t be in the hospital if I hadn’t known. I remember taking multiple bottles of antidepressants and ADHD medication. I topped it off with a bottle of Nyquil, too. I should have died. I should not have been here.

    His facial expression had the exact look of ‘What do I do? This isn’t my job.’ He looked at me with a solemn feeling of care in his eyes and shook his head. He hooked up the various monitors and machines I had knocked out of the wall in my struggle to stand and folded the blanket that was on the ground. He set it on the bed near my feet just as the phoned employees he had called earlier rushed through the door, out of breath.

    They looked at me shocked. One of the nurses muttered “He shouldn’t be awake. It’s only been a day since the-” and was cut off by a hand from the psychologist next to her. She looked a bit startled herself, though she did her best to hide it in front of my eyes.

    “Where’s Laura?” I repeated.

    The psychologist walked up to me, telling the others to shoo in the process. She pulled up the chair nearby and sat down on it, never taking her eyes off of me. It honestly made me quite uncomfortable.

    “Hi, Charlie. I’m the psychologist that works here, Melanie. I’m here to help you, alright?” she said. I nodded.

    “Now, listen to me. Laura is in a better place right now. She passed away yesterday.” she said. I looked away from her. I knew that already. I knew from the moment I took those pills that she would not be coming back. I had only hoped that it was a dream.

    “I know.” I said. I kept my gaze away. It’s hard to accept that both the person that you love and your reason for living disappeared at the same time, but that’s what I’m being forced to accept right now. The psychologist next to me was trying her best to ease me into it, but I already got the gut of it yesterday when I picked up the phone. I hadn’t even put the phone down when I had swallowed the pills.

    “Now, I’m going to tell you something that may shock you, but I need you to listen and stay calm.” She said. I looked at her in fear. There’s more..?

    “We tried our best, but your heart did not make it.”

    Silence permeated the room. I wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

    “We ended up having to get a transplant right away.”

    “What..?” I choked.

    “The transplant that you got was from Laura. Her heart is what’s beating inside you right now.”

  • Colin TonThat

    i hate writing

  • sharah

    i just started my 2nd story as i dont know how successful my 1st story but almost am satisfied with it and i have prob in grammer languages and i mostly use easy language.however here it is
    one of the most pretty morning almost in my home bed woke up, as my sister “hani get up everyone is waiting for us…..” calling me knocking my room door as she pushed out and step in as i jumped out of saying “good morning” as we gave a loving hug as usuall.the speaciality of me is my name even enimies must call me in loving way as my name is Hani am only 18 waiting for my results after my ordinary level.I hav

  • Kavita

    hi guys
    i have written this story for a competition is it alright…..
    The Lady and The Lantern

    On the edge of a cliff, alone, she stood. Silent. Sad. Depressed. She, Bella, was beginning to realize how much she actually loved her beloved. How much she missed him.How much she couldn’t be happy without seeing him in a day. No one knew where
    he was. No one knew if he was still alive. Not even his family or loved ones.
    Where could he have been? No one ever heard about him after that day, the day
    of horror….

    Tears rolled down her skin that was as white as snow. Snow which had freshly fallen
    throughout the night untouched by a bear hand. Snow which shone in the pure daylight that reflected in the sun or snow that was as beautiful as crystals.

    “Oh darling, oh darling. Oh where are you? Oh darling.” She cried. The dim-lit lantern
    shook as a huge gust of wind blew past her. She began to feel scared.

    Was she

    Or was
    someone watching her?

    No one
    knew. No one would ever find out.

    She thought
    for a moment. She thought about her life. She thought about her man. How
    everything was slowly vanishing away…

    life had always gone on smoothly until she met him.

  • I’d avoid it! Stick with “he said.”

  • As a published Kindle book writer, I found this article to be very useful indeed.

  • Hadia Tirmizi

    These ten steps are very interested and it is absolutely correct that these are the ten secrets of writing a better stories.

  • Timmy Ally

    Chapter 1

    My name
    is Castiel Algloria and I woke up with this unexplainable feeling coursing
    through my body that my life was going to change forever.

    alarm clock was still wailing it’s annoying buzzing trying to tell me that the
    start of my day was to begin at that very second. That I was to wake from my
    slumber, jump out of my bed, and begin the day with a smile etched on my face.
    In a perfect world, I guess that is what was supposed to happen. But we don’t
    live in a perfect world, we don’t have the perfect life, and perfection is just
    an unachievable idea created through the minds of imperfect people. So instead
    of getting up, I just laid there, listening to the stinging sound of my alarm.

    I was
    drowning in my ocean of blankets. It was another frozen night. It has been an
    entire month of frozen nights. Nights where you just want to sit next to a
    fireplace with a blanket to warm your body, hot chocolate to warm your soul,
    sitting with your family, laughing at all the bad jokes that your dad says.
    Well, that is if you do have a family.

    I complied to the authority that is my alarm and found the strength and
    endurance to slam the snooze button on my clock but quickly found myself engulfed
    in my blankets once again. The palm of my hands were beginning to have a slight
    burning sensation to them but it went away as fast as it came. It was weird, it
    was like someone poked a hot needle in the middle of my hand.

    The clock tells me that it is 5 in the morning
    but anyone could mistake it for 10 at night. The moon and the stars seem to
    want to take the morning off I guess. During this time, the birds would usually
    start to wake up at this time and sing their morning tunes, but the cold bullied
    them off. I liked the birds, they seemed to bring so much energy and life to
    this lifeless place. Their songs would make the trees dance and the flowers
    smile. It even scarred a smile on my face once in a while. I miss the birds.
    Why couldn’t they be here to wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’ their way? I guess they
    must of forgotten, like everyone else will.

    I got
    out of my bed and looked into my closet. Of
    course I forgot to fold my clothes last night. I pulled on a pair of
    tattered jeans, some gold shirt I didn’t even know that I possessed, and a
    green hoodie. I also got the only pair of socks that I had and slipped them on.
    At that point, my stomach decided to yell at me until I feed it something,
    anything at this point. So my body seems to automatically roam to the kitchen.

    apartment wasn’t a huge place but I wouldn’t say that it was super tiny either.
    It was pretty much two rooms, one room with a single sized bed and a closet,
    and the other room with everything else. I would say that it was a mixture between
    a kitchen, living, bathroom, and dining room all in one. I possessed the
    necessities (stove, sink, dishwasher, oven, microwave) but nothing more than
    that. Then there was my table. I
    couldn’t find a chair that in 10 years I would still be happy to sit in,
    so I went with a couch as a substitute.
    There was also T.V. set on the table. I couldn’t afford cable and all that
    other jazz so all I would watch on the T.V. was a mixture of Gladiator,
    Braveheart, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. And in a small corner of the room was
    the bathroom. However, there was
    something different about the kitchen. Something was off. I opened up the
    refrigerator and found out that there was a cake and a note waiting for me.

    looked over to the oven. It was already 5:30 and I had to get to my bus stop in
    30 minutes. I slipped the note into my book bag as I didn’t have much time to
    fully analysis what the note had to say to me. Then there was the cake, which
    was already cut into 14 equal pieces. I pulled it out of the fridge and placed
    it on the table. It stated Happy 16th
    Birthday from the Browns. I guess somebody did remember my birthday. A
    piece was placed onto one of my many paper plates. It was red velvet cake with
    a cream frosting, my favorite kind of cake.

    slice of cake was so delectable that it almost brought me to tears, but now it
    is 5:40 and I needed to get to the bus stop. I cleared out my eyes, quickly put
    the cake back into the refrigerator, slipped on my shoes, launched my book bag
    over my shoulder, and rushed out the door. If I sprinted to the bus stop, I
    might have time to speak with Darrel.

    from a sprint to a complete stop is a skill that I seem to perfected. I made it
    at the stop with about 5 extra minutes, so I decided to go to the gas station
    across the street. I was so glad that Darrel was inside when I came through the

    hanging Darrel?”, I stated as I waltz into the door.

    think that just because you work here, you’re able to just waltz in whenever
    you please.” He retorted with the most serious face that I have seen on a man,
    and I have seen Braveheart at least 12 times.

    That statement cause me to stop
    where I was as I starred at my feet, not being able to look him in the eyes. Then
    I heard him laugh.

    “You thought that I was serious?!
    Man you are too gullible. I’m doing good. You going to be at work after
    school?” He stated back with a huge grin on his face.

    The only expression on my face was
    that of a murderer looking at his next target. I was looking savage. He still
    had the audacity to keep laughing at me, saying that it was all a joke. This
    happened to the point where he was just quiet, asking if I was mad and stuff.
    That was when my composure broke and I started cracking up. At that point, we
    were both dying of laughter, so much so that my lungs felt like they were going
    to burst.

    “Yeah, I’ll be here after school.
    Well, I mean it depends on whether or not my bus driver is going to drop me off
    on time or not, but I plan to be here. There is no place I would rather be.
    Well, other than my apartment.” I said after the laugher seemed to cool down a

    “So I see where I am on your
    priority list. Ok, just come when you can.” Darrel stated, though I knew that
    he was somewhat kidding.

    “My bus is probably going to be
    here soon. You mind if I can get a Monster?”

    “Sure, go ahead. Oh, and Happy
    Birthday Cassy.”

    remembered. “Thanks.”

    By the time that I got the Monster
    and walked back to the bus stop, the bus was coming down the road. At that
    point, my palms started to burn again. It seemed to have been more intense and
    slightly longer. I almost dropped my birthday gift.

    The one place that I wanted to be
    right now is back in my apartment, not here, where people keep telling me what
    I already knew and call it “teaching”. The place was clean and there have been
    no drug busts or anything this year. All you would hear was the sound of
    shouting of teenagers gossiping over who is the hottest guy or something about
    sports. It was never a quiet school and there seemed to never be a dull moment.
    But even through all the shouting and screaming, I seem to have sense,
    something from the lockers down the hall. Something that felt like someone
    needed help Stop, it’s not your business.
    Don’t go down there. You have your own problems to deal with. You don’t need to
    fix other people’s problems. In that
    moment, I felt more feline that I have ever felt before. Curiosity got the
    better of me. As I was walking down
    there, I already knew what was going on.

    “So I heard that you have something
    for me?”

    “Something… for you. I don’t have

    “Stop lying to me. I know you have

    “Have what?!”

    “Do you really need me to beat it
    out of you?”

    “I don’t have anything that is even
    remotely yours Jack.”

    “Come on Smitty. You don’t want a
    broken nose again do you?”

    “Just leave me alone. I don’t have
    whatever it is you want.”

    “I guess that I am going to have to
    beat it out of you then, punk.”

    At that point, I couldn’t let it on
    any longer. I had to step in. How do I expect someone to do that for me if I
    can’t do it for someone else? A man is not defined but his thoughts but by his
    actions. Even in an imperfect world, without justice what are we but just
    chaos? I increased my speed just before Jack’s hand hit his face. I guess I did
    become a cat because I had the speed of one too. I caught his fist just in

    “Stop. He doesn’t have what you
    want Jack.”

    “Get out of here Sophomore. Unless
    you want a beating too.”

    “Just because you’re a Senior, it
    doesn’t give you the right to start beating on kids in lower grades. You
    obviously got the wrong person, leave Smitty alone.”

    I could feel that Jack started to
    unclench his fist, so I let his hand go. He immediately started to shake that
    hand. I looked over at Smitty, who was shaking a little and there were tears
    welling up in his eyes. He glasses fell in the floor. Good thing there wasn’t a
    scratch on them. I picked them up and gave it to Smitty.

    “Smitty, get out of here.”

    “Thanks Cassy, I owe you one.”

    He grabbed his books and his
    pencils that he needed from his locker, closed it, and swiftly jolted to his
    first period.

    “Now you need a girl to fight your
    battles Smitty? Oh wait, I know who you are Sophty. You’re Castiel, that
    precious little girl who lost both of her parents. Guess like they paid the
    price for giving birth to such a…”

    He fell to the floor, spit flying
    through the air, gasping for the little air he could get. His eyes were getting red. I got him good.
    There was so many people that nobody even noticed I hit him, they just saw that
    he collapsed.

    down, I whispered some motivating life lessons into his ear. “Stop the whole
    big man act. And never talk about my parents again. Ever.” Smiling, I got up
    and started to walk away.

    was such a breeze. All Mrs. Galadon did was give us the entire 45 minutes of
    class to write a paper on the prompt ‘If you had the chance to change one thing
    in history, what would it be.’ I destroyed that paper, saying that the one
    thing I would change is spending all the time I could with my family, no matter
    how little we had. When I finished, I gave it to the teacher. When I got back
    to my seat, I suddenly remembered the note from this morning. I got my book
    bag, which only seemed to house some papers and the note. It was in a red
    envelope.“Happy Birthday Cassy. I know that we haven’t visited you much after your parents, well you know. Anyways, we hope that you have an amazing 16th birthday
    and keep up that gorgeous smile. From the Brown’s.”

    The note made my eyes water a little. The Browns were the parents I forgot I had.
    They helped me through that hard part in my life and I don’t even want to
    imagine where I would be if Paul and Cindy Brown didn’t come and take care of
    me. When I finished reading the note, Mrs. Galadon called me up to her desk.

    “Castiel, is this a joke?”

    “What? You don’t like it? You couldn’t have read the entire thing that fast.”

    “I couldn’t read it at all. All you wrote was a bunch of scribble nonsense. If you
    want to just waste my time, you could just leave the classroom.”

    “But I didn’t write in…”

    She showed me the paper, and she was right. It was a bunch of scribbles, like an
    ancient language or something, but I could understand it just fine.

    “I’m sorry Mrs. Galadon, can I rewrite…”

    At that moment the bell rang and people were already leaving the classroom. Mrs.
    Galadon sighed as she looked over at my paper once again.

    “Just bring me a paper written in English tomorrow ok?”

    “Thanks Mrs. Galadon, you are the best!”

    “Oh, and this is my birthday present to you.”

    I didn’t even know so many people knew it was my birthday. I am genuinely surprised. I don’t know why, but it was such a great relief that people actually knew that I was born today. I guess it just makes me feel that there are people that care about me.

    As I walked out of class, Jack was waiting for me with about 5 of his Senior friends
    outside Mrs. Galadon’s door. With a big grin on his face, Jack looked to me and
    said, “What was that about being the big man?”

    I knew I was in trouble, that there was going to be a fight right now. I guess I
    deserve it. After all, I did lose my anger for no particular purpose I guess. I
    mean I should be used to the fact that my parents were dead right? It shouldn’t
    matter what anyone else calls them, because in my book they were both great parents
    when they were here and that is the only book that matters to me. Anyways,
    enough of that, I have a fight to get ready for. I pulled up my arms, ready to
    block any attack that might come my way. Then my palms started to burn with
    such intensity that it caused me to collapse to the ground. The pain of the
    kicks didn’t compare the pain that I was feeling in my hands. It took security
    5 minutes to get them off of me, in which all of us were taken to the principal’s office.

    The pain in my palms didn’t hurt anymore, but everywhere else on my body was in
    throbbing pain. Jack and his 5 friends just walked out of the principal’s office. He gave me a stare of revenge as he walked past, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything. Underneath that bully exterior is a guy who doesn’t want to get in trouble again. Mr. Leyflair called me in.

    “What happened? Why did you punch Jack in the gut this morning?”

    “Because he was beating on Smitty.”

    “He didn’t even lay a hand on Smitty.”

    “There are other ways you could beat on someone with the use of violence Mr. Leyflair.”

    “But that is something you should report to me, not go out and punch the kid. All he is going to do is retaliate later.”

    “If I tried to stop that conversation any later, Smitty would have a bloody nose. I was trying to help the kid.”

    “By beating up on another?”

    “I was stopping a violent act and an act of bullying.”

    “You can’t try to defend the rules by breaking them.”

    “You can if the rules are flawed.”

    “Ms. Algloria, It seems to me that you believe that you are the sole determiner of which rules are right and wrong.”

    “I never said anything to that nature. I am just saying that if there is a rule that is stopping me from helping another person, especially in a violent act, then it shouldn’t be a rule.”

    “But you stopped Jack when you go in the middle. You didn’t have to punch him.”

    “Yes, I did.”

    “I don’t see your reasoning.”

    “If I didn’t punch Jack, he would have just gotten back to Smitty later during the day. I won that fight, but I had to make sure that I won the war.”

    “But instead he attacked you, which is understandable.”

    “Wait, so you’re saying that it is my fault that he went out and beat me up?”

    “I’m saying that you forced his hand. He does have a reputation to upkeep, and being beaten up by a girl doesn’t help him. So yes, that is precisely what I am saying.”

    “So I am going to get in trouble and he is going to go get away free?”

    “Of course not, you’re both going to be in deep crap when I am done. Why did you collapse on the floor?”


    “When Jack met up with you in front of Mrs. Galadon’s door, he said you just collapse and that was when he started to beat on you. Why did you collapse on the floor?”

    “I’ve been having some pain in my palms. What does that have to do with me getting in

    “Let me see.”

    “What, why?”

    “Just let me see.”

    “Look, my bodily pains has nothing to do with my I punched Jack in the gut or why he
    beat me…”

    “Just let me see your hands Castiel!”

    I can’t believe you are about to do this. I laid my hands out palms up on his desk. He went and started to rub the palm of my hand, which I found pretty strange. He also started to make weird noises underneath his breath, saying that he has found the one or something to that nature. Then he reached for something underneath his desk while he was still rubbing down my palm.

    “Um, ok this is kind of creepy. Please stop.”

    I tried to move my hand off the table, but he grabbed my right wrist with an immense amount of strength, and I kind of pride myself on my muscular ability, I mean that of being a girl and all. I pulled as hard I as I could, but it wouldn’t
    budge. My brain was in such a mess that it couldn’t figure out what to do. He
    finally got what he needed from underneath his desk, some rusted old dagger. In
    that moment, I have never been so scared that I was going to die ever in my
    life. My brain was still dead, not able to produce a single way to get out.
    That was when someone busted through the door. I didn’t have time to turn
    around and by the time that I tried to turn around, Mr. Leyflair was already
    blasted back, engulfed in a blazing fire that was burning down his office. You
    could hear his cry for help, his screams of agony.

    Finally I turned around and standing there, holding some sort of stick with glowing
    engravings on it, was Smitty. “I said I owed you one.”

    I’m so confused and have no idea what was happening. Then my palms began to burn again. Not again. I was only awake for a few seconds before the pain passed me out, and I could see Smitty catching me before I fell out of the chair. Before I
    went out though, I heard Smitty saying he was going to take me someplace safe.

    That was when my life changed forever.

  • taengoo

    Please read my story! It’s my first time writing a story:) it’s just a small part of my story:D

    When the school is finished, me and Yoona go to the lobby to meet the girls. On our way, I saw Chen leaning on his locker, joking around with his friend. When he saw me pass them, he excuses himself to their friends and jogs towards me.
    “Hey, where are you going?” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. I blushed and removed his hands from my shoulder.
    “We’re going to meet the girls and then go home. Why?” I answered still blushing. He puts his hand into his pocket and nods. “Where is your home?” he asked.
    “Not far from here. It’s only 15 minutes by walking. Why?” I said. Actually it’s only 5 minute if you use car and around 45 minutes by walking. Why I lied? I don’t know. I just feel like it.
    “Nothing. I just want to know. And why did you keep asking why?” he asked, slightly unhappy with my answer.
    “Why?” I said, feeling like teasing him. He just rolled her eyes at me.
    “You’re so annoying , you know?” he said, pinching my cheeks than walk away. I stopped from my walk and freeze. Touching my cheeks he just pinched. I can feel my cheeks burning. Yoona realized I’m by her side anymore so she looked back and see stand still touching my cheek. She just grinned and walk towards me.
    “What’s wrong Tae?” She asked, putting her arms on my shoulder. I just shook my head and gives a smile to her. She smile back. “You’re surprised he pinched your cheek?” she said. I looked at her and nodded.
    “What did I do? I just want to tease him a little but he pinched me,” I said. She just smile again and said, “Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything. Its just his way to show it.” I’m confused by her words. Show it? Show what? I think Yoona saw my confused face, because she laugh and say, “ Haha, you’ll know Tae. Why did you so oblivious to this kind of things?” She takes my hand and drag me to the girls. What kind of thing?

  • JayJay98

    I’m not a native speaker so please bare with me. And I’m just a girl who’s loving love stories and is writing out of fun. If someone doesn’t want to read this, I understand.

    I narrowed my eyes as I watched his tall figure standing next to this girl who was really -and I hate myself for saying it- beautiful.
    We both were supposed to enjoy this date, but if I would’ve known that we would meet her..Heck, I would have stayed at home.
    I sighed. I couldn’t do much anyway. They would’ve found out that we were here sooner or later so let’s just get over it quickly.
    I walked up to him and tugged on his sleeves. “Are you finished?” I asked softly.
    Sehun looked at me with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry, Jay,” he said and took hold of my hands, giving them an apologetic squeeze.
    I sighed again. Being the girlfriend of an idol was really hard. I know that it’s not Sehun’s fault, but I couldn’t help but feel a little mad because he insisted on going.
    Now look at where we were now. Surrounded by beautiful girls whose eyes were only on Sehun.
    I huffed and let go of his hand. I didn’t want to watch anymore. I would probably be old and grey by the time he was finished giving those girls autographs and taking pictures with him.
    No thanks, I thought.
    Ignored Sehun’s calls as I walked along the streets, getting away from him.
    It was not long before I felt someone gripping my hand and yanking me. I let out a small cry and wanted to fight free, but I stopped for a second. I knew this scent.
    I turned my head and looked back. Behind me was standing Sehun, a cute small smile forming on his lips.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you…”, he sheepishly said and scratched the back of his neck.
    I calmed down and stared at him blankly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with them.”
    Sehun pouted and held my hand, interwining our fingers. “Hey, is this how you speak with your boyfriend who ditched those girls and ran after you?”
    I bit my lip. I knew he was right. He didn’t do anything, so why was I acting like a total brat?
    “I’m sorry, Sehun,” I gave in and Sehun swang his arm over my shoulder while he chuckled. “Hey, it’s totally okay that you were jealous.”
    I gasped. “I was not jealous!”
    “Yeah, whatever you say,” he smirked and I puffed out my cheeks. “Jay..”
    I didn’t answer and looked away, so he wouldn’t see the smile that was forming onto my lips.
    “Baaaaaby speak to me…” he whined and tugged on my sweater. I still didn’t answer.
    He huffed and blocked my way so that I couldn’t walk anymore. He caressed and studied my face. “Don’t be so childish, babe”
    “I”m not being childish!”
    He laughed deeply. “Okay, let me tell you one thing: I would also be jealous if someone tried to take pictures with you. Especially if this someone is a guy”
    I perked up and a small smile spread onto my face. “Really?”
    He hummed softly and gently placed his lips on my own. “Yes, really.”

  • Angel M. Torres

    im trying to write a thriller/horror-ish story, is it good to change the goal of the main character in the story or does he/she have to stay in the same goal through the whole thing?, a little explenation would be great

  • abbie

    hi, I am only 12 years old and i love writing. I would like to know what I need to improve in my stories to make them better. I really like making fiction stories because I can make up what ever come next and so on, but It’s really hard for me to come up with ideas to make them. I would love it if you got back to me, but I under stand if your busy. love Abbie

  • BloodyShaco

    This is my first non school-related work of writing. It’s a fanfic of Shaco from the game League of Legends. Also, please check out my Wattpad account BloodyShaco for a continuation of the story.

    Nothing like shameless self-promotion.

    Plink. A grimy drop of rainwater dripped on his face and silently slipped down his cheek, its path distorted by the boy’s angular cheeks and jaw. His left eye twitched, and then opened. He carefully surveyed his immediate surroundings, making sure no one had entered while he slept. First thing he looked for was his knives, which were still sitting in the knapsack by the side of his bed, softly shining. The pair was always glinting, even when it was dark. It was a bit unnerving for the first few days after he had stol-ahem, found them, but after a while it became expected, almost reassuring to see their constant glow. Same musty room, what few pieces of furniture he had in their usual spots, same rugged cloths pinned to the deteriorating straw ceiling. Everything in place, the way he left it when he went to sleep. It wasn’t too bad of a place once you got used to it, especially for Zaun.

    Good, good. The boy finally opened his other eye, stretched, and stood up, patting at his matted hair, a strikingly fair shade of blonde. Judging by the faint grayness of the sky, it was approaching dawn. Another day, another ten hours at the grain mill. He found it incredibly difficult to will himself to wash up and set out for the long day ahead. Finally mustering up enough energy, his body aching from the previous night, he tugged on his work clothes with a groan and turned on the faucet, washing his face with the chilling water, making his eyes squint.

    “Hi Shermy. Where were you yesterday at night?” He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was, but he did anyway, and looked at the reflection of his sister Phoebe through the mirror.

    Phoebe’s the only person who can get away with calling me that.

    “Well, aren’t you up a bit early? And uh.. I was out. You know, for work and stuff,” Shiv responded, eyes averted to the sink. He hated lying to her, but he wasn’t sure if he should tell his little sister about it. She was only turning nine next week, after all, if he wasn’t mistaken. After a brief silence while washing his face, Shiv added, “Anyway, I’ll be home on time today. There’s probably food in the basket. See ya, later, P,” he said, with a small smile as he walked through the door, grabbing his knives and slinging the knapsack behind his back as he stepped onto the dirt road.

    * * * * * *

    What a long day. It was late afternoon, the sun casting an idyllic orange glow on the roads and the rooftops of the town. Zaun doesn’t look half bad, in the sunset. Almost beautiful. As long as you’re looking from far away, at least. Rubbing his sore arms, spent from turning the mill all day, Shiv made his way toward the center of town, known primarily as the Heart of the Serpent by most of the townsfolk. It was a busy, bustling place, filled with merchants, shopkeepers, basically anyone who had something to buy or sell. He knew he could find decent prices for tonight’s dinner. Today was the last workday of the month, and so Shiv had with him a pleasantly heavy purse filled with silver coins. He could hear the metallic jingle form his footsteps, and so he moved the purse to his knapsack, which contained his knives and a biscuit he hadn’t eaten, among other things. First rule when it comes to bartering: Never show anyone how much money you have, or even give them a clue. Another thing was that he didn’t want to get into any trouble with pickpockets or looters, as there were many rather uncomfortable situations that could fall upon a lone person with singing coins in his pocket.

    Shiv had more than enough experience living the less-than-honest life before he worked at the mill. He used to be quite high up in a gang called the Southies, up until about a year ago when the pilties heard wind of their headquarters and raided their stockpile. His mates took off fast once they were eviscerated by the authorities, as a gang without a turf didn’t really belong anywhere. He still wasn’t sure who ratted, but he wasn’t too sour anymore about it, as he hadn’t suffered too much from the loss.

    While approaching the Heart, Shiv was mildly intrigued by the numerous plumes of smoke that seemed to be emanating from the markets and taverns there. Occasionally the town would have a small outside cooking event, but he could already tell that this was definitely not just a small barbecue. Shiv heard more bustling and shouting form the area, and picked up his pace, his pulse rising. What could be going on down there? Did the pilties come back? As he drew closer, he could make out multiple fires, and the silhouettes of shop owners and innkeepers frantically running about, trying to salvage their stores. And what he saw afterwards nearly made him freeze in his tracks, his eyes widening as his heart dropped.

    There must have been at least fifty or sixty of Piltover’s infamous patrol guards, torching the Zaunite building while brandishing their weapons, flooding the area like an oil spill in their black uniforms. Shiv could make out a pitifully scant resistance of Zaunite citizens forming, trying to slow the terrible advance of the guards with pitchforks, knives, and homemade weapons, but with little success. He saw one older man in the back of the line with a revolver, who seemed to be leading the civilians, feverishly pointing and shouting orders. His efforts seemed ultimately futile, however, as even in the few second Shiv watched the battle he could tell that the resistance was doing more running than fighting.

    But as Shiv hoped, Zaun wasn’t falling this easy, no matter how large the opposition was. From all around he felt the buzz of moving bodies, as scores of his fellow Zaunites, many of whom he recognized as gang members, quietly came to aid the effort. Southies, Northies, young and old, even little kids who looked too young to wield anything more than a slingshot, were all making their way towards the fire and smoke in middle of Zaun, a pained and yet fiercefully determined expression shared on all of their faces, which could mean nothing but that they ready to fight and kill to protect all that they had. Without a second thought, Shiv unsheathed his own knives from behind his back, and sprinted into the fight.

    I guess I won’t be home on time after all.

  • juanita couch

    As I was shopping for tomato plants
    one day, my attention fell on a lone watermelon plant that looked like it was
    about to outgrow its little container that allowed it to be planted in the

    I never tried to plant watermelons
    before so I was a little reluctant to buy this poor lonely plant. The price was
    so cheap, I knew the retailer wanted to get rid of it soon.

    I decided I could give it a try so
    I took the little watermelon plant home with me.

    We had prepared our garden as a
    raised bed garden which is a garden planted in frames and not directly into the
    ground. Our raised beds frames were made out of PVC pipe that was four inches
    in diameter. The measurements were nine feet by five feet. We laid down black
    ground cover and filled the frame with potting soil.

    I put the single little watermelon
    plant about a third of the length and in middle of the width. It looked so lonely all by itself in that big

    A day or two after I planted my
    little plant, I found it laying there all wilted and so sad looking. I got the
    Miracle Grow Plant Food and prepared a dose, hoping it would survive.

    The next day my little watermelon
    plant had perked up and was waving at me as I checked on it.

    Below is a diagram of my garden:


    The big box at top contains the little
    watermelon in the right end and cucumbers and zucchini in the left end. The box
    to the right contains tomatoes. The bottom left box contains rhubarb and green
    peppers and the right box has peas, green beans, and spinach. I planted eight cantaloupe
    hills directly in the ground at the bottom.

    It is Important that the diagram is
    observed because as little watermelon grew it soon went crazy and is taking
    over the entire garden spot.

    When we cleared the box where the
    peas were I decided I would put the watermelon vines over there. Now it just
    keeps going into the tomatoes, the cantaloupe, and heading for the strawberry
    bed which is about five feet from the cantaloupes.

    I don’t know if I ever want to get
    a watermelon plant again.

  • Robert

    I have written my manuscript from age of 5 to 17 , now what

  • Candice Hall

    The 10th
    Avenue- For this is the way of things


    There are ten avenues to take in life. Ten directions or
    paths as my teacher put it. He was an older man and we were often eager to make
    fun of Mr. Lovett’s baldness and round shape. But today was different. As I was
    sitting in my school desk taking the occasional long glances outside of the window,
    I noticed it wasn’t just the autumn tinted colors that encircled the trees that
    made my mind shift. It was the fullness and anticipated tonality resonating in
    Mr. Lovett’s voice that sounded as if he was trying to unveil to us the secret
    of life. “Of every second of each day we
    are confronted with choices. Some of those choices will become life altering.”
    I could tell my cohorts weren’t exactly following nor did they really seem to
    care. It sounded like he was rambling a little, but there was a softness and
    strength to his words and demeanor. He sat behind his long test and leaned back
    in his chair as though he were tired. He didn’t want to teach the usual boring
    ass curriculum. I could tell he was trying to reach out to us. He gradually
    sipped his glass of water from his cup, as if it could have been gin n tonic. I
    glanced at the window again just in time to see the wind erupt between the
    leaves and take them away from their home onto the ground. When I looked at Mr.
    Lovett again, he was staring right at me. His face was one I had never seen before.
    It captured an expression of sadness and hope all infused together. I felt like
    he was speaking from past experience. I felt like he was envisioning each of us
    ten years from now. Whatever Mr. Lovett’s rightful intention was,I felt like he
    was speaking directly to me, and in the wake of what I ever could have imagined
    a spiritual moment to feel like, this was it….

    Lori took the 1st and James the 2nd. Richard claimed the
    third and Maryann secured his fourth. Maria captured the fifth and John took
    the sixth. Jessica and Scott stole 7th. Jake went to the 8th
    and Whit to the 9th.

    And I took the 10th avenue in life.

    Chapter 1

    Today had started out like any other summer day. You
    wouldn’t know any difference had it been for a quick run in with my mother that
    left me leaving my shopping cart in the middle of the store and furiously
    running back to my red Acura for safety. Even once I had reached the inside of
    my car and shut the door I did not feel safe. I hurriedly started it and left
    my groceries and my mother behind. It wasn’t until I had stopped my vehicle at
    the first red light, that the immediate signs of devastation begun to peak
    through. The tightness in my stomach was bearable but my body begun to realize
    it couldn’t hold it in any longer and allowed for the tears to well up as the
    light turned green and the vehicle started to move again. It wasn’t easy living
    in a small town that seemed to be an accumulation of individuals that so easily
    made me feel powerless. I guess that is the product of having lived a life that
    models the blue print of relationship faux pas that my mother had created
    herself. Of course it wasn’t by intention that it was created it was just a set
    of dysfunctional mannerisms that are made after one has lived a difficult
    life. After letting myself go into full
    sobs, I gave myself some credit as I knew my brain was just reacting to the
    familiarity of her face and the feelings of wanting something other than being
    strangers…. And the milk and bread I had left with it. Damn I really needed
    that fucking milk for dinner. When I reached home, I lit a cigarette and kept
    the car running. I pulled my hair back and sucked in the polluted air the
    cigarette was allowing me to take. I tossed it out the window and begun
    gathering my purse to make entry into my apartment. This was as far as I would
    let myself feel hurt. When I walked in to my apartment, I felt relieved to be
    around the items that reflected nothing but me. Dirty dishes in the sink, a
    room that was cozily lit and items that made me feel like a whole person
    (journals in the corner, earth toned carpets and bedding, and pictures that
    reminded me I had people who loved me).Shortly after I had kicked off my
    sandals, and turned on my cheap window a.c. unit, I heard a knock at the door.
    I took my time answering as I already knew it was Miles. “Damn Lane, I’m
    sweating balls out here”. Miles was a slightly tall, lanky guy who appeared to
    have barely made it out of his late teens alive. He was ruthlessly blunt and
    both as kind hearted and real as I had known anyone to be. He ran his fingers
    through his hair that clung to that motion as if his dark hair were truly full
    of sweat. I cracked a smile at his comment as I reached for one of my clean
    glasses and filled it with cold tap water and handed it to him. He started to
    take a sip when he stopped and stated “Uh lane, there’s something black
    floating in my drink”. I knew he didn’t really care for the floaty in his drink
    as he was just trying to keep a smile on my face. I ignored his comment and sat
    down on the stool next to him with my own cup of water. “That bad huh? I bet
    she looked like she was going to shit her pants when she saw you turn the
    corner.” I did smile at that and welcomed the brief moment of comedy at the
    scene that left my stomach in knots. Miles didn’t stop at that though. “My god
    wait don’t tell me, I know exactly how this went”. He then proceeded to stand
    up and pretend to be my mother pushing the shopping cart who ran into me. He
    put on the monologue with sincere enthusiasm and pretended to hide the things
    in his cart and shook with exaggerated startlement. He mimicked her voice and
    had a one sided discussion of how her life was going…. He mentioned a brand new
    pool, three cars, and something about doggy daycare. I laughed and thought to
    myself, man this is why I love you Miles. My laughter was interrupted by his Metallica
    ring tone blaring. Miles still had half a smile on his face when he looked down
    to examine who was calling him. His face turned into brief seriousness when he
    kissed me on the forehead and told me he had to go but that he would return
    later. Without explanation, it was already understood amongst us that his
    hurried exit was not because he didn’t want to stay but because his alcoholic
    father had probably already found himself in a drunken stupor at McClain’s bar
    this early in the day. Miles was just as familiar as I was with familial
    problems, but yet he always seemed to have this way about him that held
    together like armor. I admired him for that, and often found myself clinging to
    his strength in times I knew were unnecessary. Shortly after Miles left I found
    myself turning on some music and the cheap air conditioning unit in my window.
    I pulled out a beer and found myself enjoying the music which interrupted the
    painful thoughts that usually flood my mind when silence lingers. I started to
    emerce myself in some of my college text books but became frustrated with the boring
    material I was being forced to read. A couple beers in, I was finally focused
    enough to type a fucking killer essay. It only seemed like two hours when I
    heard the door knob turn, and Miles walked backed in. He was wearing a
    different shirt and had a cigarette in one hand and a jug of milk in the other.
    “Weren’t you wearing a blue shirt earlier?” I asked. “yes, but I didn’t quite
    think the flavor of vomit on blue was stylish this time of night” he retorted
    as he placed the jug of milk in my refridgerator, having kindly remembered I
    left my groceries behind this morning. “he got you good huh?, I think I still
    see some chunks in your hair” I teased. He forced an obnoxious laugh to over
    exaggerate my sense of humor. Oh good ole Miles, how my life would be
    disasterious if I didn’t have him holding me together. After Miles, took of his
    shoes and helped himself to a beer, he layed comfortably on my bed as he had
    grabbed my computer and pretended to wildly write my paper. “Lane, You sooo
    smart” he said in a dumb manner. It didn’t take long before both of us had
    thrown back enough beer and then some, that we both found the night to
    encompass much laughter and playfulness. What every young adult needs in a life
    that is full of complication, confusion, and complexitivies. Somewhere in my
    drunken stupor when my cheeks began to hurt from laughing, I looked down at my
    phone and noticed that I had a missed call from Ryan. I immediately jumped out
    of my seat, “OH MY GOD RYAN JUST CALLED ME!!”. Miles smile slightly faded and I
    could see a serious tone to the curvature of his eyes. It wasn’t long before he
    snapped back into character, “ Well hell what are you waiting for, invite his
    punk ass over”. Ryan had been a lifetime crush of mine and only recently had he
    asked for my number while we attended a work party several weeks ago. Miles had
    beef with him since the day he had picked me up from work and I pointed him out
    “as the one”. I knew immediately Miles wanted him over for an interrogation
    night. I gave him a horrified look. “Listen I am here to support you…. Lane,
    come on , I’m just going to rough him up a little. Besides any guy that gets
    with you is going to get roughed up a little bit anyway” then he chuckled. “Oh
    yeah mother fucker, have I roughed you up?”
    , “no but you sure as hell keep me on my toes” he replied as he gave me
    a quick wink.

    It was
    two hours after I sent out a text, and still no Ryan. Miles had helped me
    straighten the back of my hair, the pieces I couldn’t get. He carefully watched
    me apply my mascara and my blush. All the while making comments like “seriously
    Lane, do you have to do all that”.

    Chapter 2

    Although, Ryan never showed up I
    felt as beautiful as ever. I had a heavy heart, the kind that knew for half a
    moment I had something to offer but never was able to come to fruition. I had a
    lovely night with Miles who tried very hard to keep my spirits high. We played
    charades and tiredly discussed the things about life that only most contemplate
    when in deep spiritual prayer. Miles gently caressed my hair, and I didn’t mind
    so much as I know my heart needed to feel wanted after having been blown off my
    Ryan. His caress was gentle and on occasion he would stop as if he too were
    lost in his own thoughts and emotions that deeply tried to become unwired in
    his complicated mind. I fell asleep that night and was awoken at three in the
    morning. Alone and involved in a terrible nightmare. My shirt was broken out in
    a deep sweat and the awareness of being completely alone made it all that much

    The next morning, I woke up to my
    alarm that felt like it was screaming in my ear. I rolled over and tiredly turned it off. I
    stumbled to into the kitchen for a glass of water. When I walked into the
    kitchen I noticed that Miles was there asleep on the couch. I wasn’t truly
    alone after all. He had his shirt off and only assumed he had stripped to his
    boxers to get comfortable. I didn’t stir him as he slept with his mouth open and heavy snores were running out
    of his mouth. I got my glass of water and sipped slowly as I studied the way he
    looked in deep sleep. He looked awkward with his mouth wide open and his body
    sprawled out on the couch as if he was a blanket covering all areas of the
    furniture. I put my glass in the sink and then made my way to the couch. I
    pushed his knee bent leg to the side and shared the couch. His tired eyes soon
    started to open upon me forcing his leg out of the way so I could sit. It
    wasn’t long before he felt another presence on the couch and woke up in
    absolute startlement. He sat up and saw that I had been observing him while
    under such deep slumber. It startled him so much that he sat right up with
    tired eyes and asked me what the hell I was doing. “You looked like you were in
    such deep slumber, I couldn’t help but to join in the festivities. It’s not
    that often that one is often observed in such a deep state of condition” I
    stated in a light hearted tone. His hair was crazy and he was quick to fix his
    appearance. This was observed by the way he immediately put his hand through
    his hair in the attempt to make it “presentable”. I was still in my pajamas
    that usually consisted of a large t-shirt and underwear. “ Want me to make some
    coffee, you sure look like you could use some”. “ yeah, yeah that’s fine” he
    said as his eyes were still trying to adjust to the light. I put a fresh batch
    in the coffee lid and started it. Miles started to whistle in a cat call manner, awake and noticing that I
    was wearing nothing but a shirt. I flipped him a bird as I got two cups ready
    with creamer for the coffee.

    to be continued…..

  • Candice Hall

    Anyone willing to spare some time to give a complete amateur some feed back 🙂

  • Elizabeth

    I think good stories makes our lifes so much more interesting 😉
    For example I loved the idea of that blog: http://rheakingsley.wordpress.com/ 🙂
    I hope it will turn out even better then it starts, because if it does, I can already imagine myself spending every Sunday with it 🙂

  • owl

    nice advice! though i have to disagree with the “only used said” part. too much “he said” and “she said” ends up being more distracting for me then just using different stuff from time to time. i love a simple “she said” thrown in occasionally, but constant use just sounds dry, emotionless, and repetitive to me. probably because i have asperger’s, though, haha! aside from that, i’ll definitely use this advice. great article!

  • Emily

    Have you ever feared that a loved one would have to leave you? I know that I have.
    One day, my family and I went out to eat at this place. We all ordered our drinks, and then my brother and I went into the arcade,for a little bit. When we got back to our table, “what’s going on?” my brother and I sniffled. Our mom stated ” your dad will be going away for a little bit,” and of course I started balling and I never ordered dinner, but everyone else in the family did. After all that happened, we just kept praying and praying about it, hoping that he would not have to leave us. Next thing you know, we got cousins, aunts, uncles, grandpa’s, grandma’s, brothers, and sisters all together. We all went out and had lunch together so that we could try and not really think about everything that would end up happening that day. After we all ate, my dad, mom, brother, and I went to the airport, we were all in tears on the way there. Once we got to the airport, we unloaded all of his stuff, we all said our good-byes, gave big hugs, because we knew that we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a long time, we were still in tears. Mom, Ethan, and I got back in the vehicle, waved good-bye. Because we knew that since he was going to Afghanistan, we would not get to talk to him very often. And to this day ever since he has been in Afghanistan, it has brought us all closer together, more than it ever has.

  • Anthony Gibbs

    First time sharing. Historical Fiction.

    The Borderlands

    John stared out his bedroom window looking over the clear reflections that flowed freely off the river. It was a cool fall evening. Most of the leaves had fallen off the trees along the Kentucky shore across the river. Winter was coming soon.

    He had a long list of projects in the shop he was hoping to finish before the first frost. Miranda also had a list of house projects that needed to be done in preparation for the cold weather.

    But John’s mind was still across the river. As busy as life gets, with all the distractions of being a father, husband, and manager of his own foundry, John still had a fascination with the unknown men and women who were living across the river inescapably bound by the institution the Southland had become known for.

    John’s mind went to his mother and he gritted his teeth. Whatever happened to her? Is she still alive? He knew he would never see her again, and the thought of it was driving him to make another trip across the long watery corridor called the Ohio. Not to find his mother. Last time he saw her, he a boy being pulled away from her as she howled in tears. It was the only memory of Norfolk that he could not shake. He still shuddered at the thought. He knew he would only feel better if he thought he could help prevent that same experience falling on another.

    John turned away from the window. He was done with gazing across the border for now. Night was beginning to fall and he had a feeling that somewhere on the Kentucky side, in the cool brisk air, across some harvested field; someone was eagerly waiting, hoping, and believing that freedom was coming.

    Before going downstairs, John stepped into the small room to kiss Jr. on his copper head. After descending the stairs, he swiftly pulled his blackjack and revolver hanging on the wall. He slipped into the kitchen briefly. Miranda was cleaning the dishes.

    “I’m going out.”

    “Please be careful Honey. Should I wait up?”

    “Not tonight.” John whisked out the back door and headed through the alleys of Ripley. Where was he going to cross the river tonight? What place in the border lands was his target? Who was waiting for his help?

  • Rin

    This is all I have at the moment.

    “No! Just leave me alone!” I scream at no one in particular
    as I run. Darkness surrounds me, pressing against me, trying to hold me still.
    No matter how fast or far I run, I’m always surrounded by darkness and the
    voices are just as close, if not closer, than they were before. My chest it
    tight from running, and my heart is pounding but I don’t stop, all I want to
    get out of here, to get away from whatever is chanting my name, trying to pull
    me into their domain.

    Out of nowhere a bright flash of light blinds me and I
    scream as I sit up from my bed as a clap of thunder rumbles about me, shaking
    my house. I sit there for a few minutes after the thunder dies down. Why here?
    Why now? I hadn’t had this dream in three years, so why now does it have to
    come back to torture me with its endless chanting and sickly darkness? I
    thought it had finally decided to leave me alone after I moved, but apparently
    not. It wasn’t done with me, and the worst part was, I didn’t know what it
    wanted. I was helpless, all I could do was fight through the dream and hope,
    pray, that I wake up soon.

  • Dahlya Christina Jaman

    Party. He hate it, a lot. Especially when the girl swarmed around him, desperate to take photo and handle him with their hands outstretched, to stroke him and let their wandering hands grape him in uncomfortable places. This was the life of a wealthy heirs and it was one of the turn offs for him, it was probably the only one. He glanced to the left to be mesmerized by the beauty of the girl that stand beside him with her hand holding out her oversized leather jacket. Her small beautiful face was framed by her cascading dark brown hair, unwilling to meet his intense gaze she focused her eyes downwards. He got to his feet slowly admiring the strong malicious aura that surrounded her as they stood in front of the other girls. That girl turned to face him and he immediately took the chance to analyse her as he would probably not get another chance to do so, so thoroughly.
    “Nice to meet you.” She looked up, that her eyes were deep brown, brimming with secrets and outlined with her dark long eyelashes.
    “Hmmm…Joanna. Do I know you?” She spoke but the words never reached him as he was captured by her soft pink lips, wondering whether they really were soft as they looked.
    “Come with me,” Frantic, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door, the leather jacket dropped to the floor as she exited the room with the man that reminded her of her first love.

  • Nozaki


  • Noura

    guys i need a short story about tea please ;'(

  • Queen Cassie

    i need help to write a good book when i grow up i want be famous to help people in the world to make this world better a place to live and i am just 14 year old and be a artist too when i grow up

  • prasad kamalanabha

    I have been writing (and re-writing) two stories. Stories are in some shape.I am trying to figure out how to structure each story

  • Joseph M

    This article has many good points, but the first tip doesn’t work for me. I work best when I have a plan to go by, and I get writer’s block when I don’t plan ahead. Laying the foundations before writing the first draft helps me a lot.

  • unitac

    Okay, so I just started this book a week ago, but I can’t seem to start it correctly. Any ideas? I’m not a pro, just a kid with a out of whack imagination.

    Magic is everywhere.This, the girl decided, was a fact.Like one would regard what a pencil looked like, or what color a rose was.She was standing alone in the mountain field, overlooking the past she had left long ago.A gentle breeze brushed past her, pushing her brown hair in front of her face.She made no effort to push it back.In the girl’s hands were two daggers.One was white with a gold trim.The other, black with a silver trim.Both hurt and represented something terribly awful to the girl, but she still used them.On the ground next to her feet were a violin and its bow.In some ways, the instrument was her best weapon.

    In an instant, she spun around and threw both daggers.The two of them met their targets and pinned them to a nearby tree.The girl walked over to her daggers and pulled them off of the apples.She smiled happily as she took a bite out of one while tossing the other in her hand.

    This girl wasn’t someone with a lot of luck. She made a new type of magic.She was smart and could calculate the amount of pressure needed to scrape someone and how hard to press when they needed to die.Her name was Aria Lament, and she led a life of loneliness.

  • WRITER101

    his backbone cracked as bent over to retrieve his things, the pain surged through his spine like electricity through a wire, his faced turned sour, as the full force of his pain reached his brain, His cry of pain was haunting, a could easily pierce the ears of any who were unfortunate enough to hear it,; he swung back violently as thoiufh he was having a fight with a tormentor, but this only made the pain unbearbly worse, and a second wave of pain blotted through his nerves as he let out another yell for help.

  • Sonia Seow

    Hey, It would help if you gave my short story a go. It’s still a work in pogress. https://www.wattpad.com/177265010-unintended-chapter-1-rediscovery

  • Jay

    cliché had been a part of her life for some time now, it’s been like a ton of
    bricks holding her down for over eight years. If
    she’d known back then what she knows now, she would have never sacrificed her
    emotional stability, time, and most of all, her heart. Several years passed;
    years plagued with deceptive secrets, anger, resentment and lies. Her heart
    ached daily, hiding secrets that plagued her soul, day in and day out, nibbling
    at her core.

    There’s another cliché: “Hindsight is 20/20.” Since learning of his secret life, this cliché weighedheavily on her heart. As a result of this new revelation, she became more
    cognizant of others’ behavior, especially the men she dated and loved. So many
    cues and signs were missed; cues that actually supported the lifestyle they
    lived; therefore, making it almost impossible for her to think anything
    otherwise. She was so in love, yet blindly lost in a lifestyle that gave her
    the opportunity to be comfortable and whole as a person, for the first time in
    her life. She had her cake, and she ate it.

  • jade hughes

    i have been writing stories since i was little but i have been no good at all because i dont know how to start it and end it please can i have some help with it

  • Darlene Badran

    This is a story about myself one that I’m not sure many can relate to for I see myself at the moment as just one person all alone in the world going through the emotions of long distance love. It all started a year ago through social media that I started talking with this man whom I found to be different to be captivating and it wasn’t long before I realized that I loved him. How do I know from just a short time of speaking to someone I have never yet meet in person? I guess one does not fully know until a later date but weather I knew it or not what I did know is i felt a connection. When I spoke with him was like speaking with myself. He was everything I was and I was so happy to find my equal. After a few months of speaking which we spoke everyday sometimes 3 times a day I knew I needed to meet him. I had to see him in person because it was as if it was too good to be true. To meet him wasn’t going to be easy because it wasn’t as if he lived in the same state as myself nor did he even live in the same country. He resided in Finland. Wow, Finland! Till that time I never knew anything of Finland. I didn’t even know it was part of Europe. I have always dreamed of going to Europe as a young teen wanting to experience the wonders portrayed in movies, but never really thought I would ever have the chance to really go let alone fall in love with someone from there. I thought about it hard and decided to meet this man. His name is Jaser and when I told him of my wishes it was clear that his wish was the same. Knowing that I was a single mom with limited financial means he thought he would try to get a visa to come to the states so as to make it easier on me. He submitted a request for a travel visa but was turned down. I was heart broken but still determined to make this meeting between us happen. I started to save every way I could. Cutting back on unnecessary spending and so forth and in a matter of a few months I was able to save the money needed to make such a trip. I arrived in Finland in May the 27 of 2015 a nervous reck for I was unsure of the reception I was to receive. Not knowing whether Jaser was truly the man he clamied to be. Not knowing for sure if he would even show up at the airport to pick me up. All questions that seems valid and reasonable right? Well, my plane arrived on time and as I came through the gate I saw no one that seemed to be waiting for me. I looked around, and mind you it wasn’t a huge airport so looking around did not take up a lot of time. No one! And I was a bit nervous. I mean who wants to ever be stranded at an airport let alone an airport a hundred thousand miles away. I walked to get good wifi reception so as to call him and when he answered the phone all I could say was I’m here! He was in a bit of unbelief for he thought he had about an hour before my arrival at which point he assured me that he wasn’t far from the airport and that he would be there right away. What a relief knowing that it was a misunderstanding of time rather than him getting cold feet. Once he arrived I saw him coming through the automated double doors and immediately knew it was him. Tall and slender with the most beautiful blue eyes. I felt lucky. I felt at home with him at the very moment. It felt as if I knew him for along time and I felt complete. We married 6 days later there in Finland. Those 15 days with Jaser was wonderful. With tears in my eyes as I gave him one last kiss and hug I thought to myself how was I going to manage without him. I walked away not wanting to cry looking back one last time as they announced the start of my boarding for my flight back to the United States and that’s when I felt like I was losing something. I wasn’t only leaving my husband behind I was leaving a part of myself. It was the hardest thing ever one that I wasn’t prepared for. All I knew was that I needed to hurry home so as to file the needed paperwork with my country to bring him here with me. I knew the immigration process and I knew there was a lot involved so I hired an attorney to help me. I could do it alone but I knew with an immigration lawyer I would be in better hands because so much is involved I wanted to be sure to get it right the first time around so that nothing would go over looked causing any delays. Here’s where my stuggles began. I was told that processing time with immigration could take any where from 6 to 12 months. What a blow! That’s along time to live with out someone you love so much. How is it possible. Long distance relationships don’t work. I had a few friends who loved someone who was just 3 hours away by plane and the distance became to much for them. And here I am nearly 13 hours away by plane. If it didn’t work for them how was it going to work for me? Oh my god how my heart hurts. We talk on the phone every single day just as we did before ever meeting and we vow to continue to talk each day but I would be lying if I said it makes it any easier. Skype in my oppion makes it worse well at least for me it does. It hurts to see him and not to be able to hold him close. Lately I feel so angry about the whole immigration process. I m not blind I see many illegal immigrants and yes some I know personally and they are here. They are working and living here in this country and they have no intension of making themselves legal. Many come to this country by lying and cheating and here I’m doing everything by the book and I have to wait while the ones who do wrong to get here are treated to all that our government offers. For someone to enter into America legally you must first prove that you are finically capable of caring for yourself and that you will not become a burden to the government. Ok, that I understand and I agree with but to see the ones who entered this country the wrong way be rewarded with government help upsets me when I am forced to wait when I’m doing what is required. To love someone so much and having to play the waiting game seems so unfair. I’m an American citizen following the rules and all it feels like is that when you are honest and you obey the rules and follow all requirements it is I who am punished.

  • Josh

    This is so amazing it got my son to read more.

  • Anyone looking for a critiquing buddy? Romantic drama is my genre.

  • Joe

    Hi there all! I’ve begun writing a story inspired by my favorite horror and weird fiction writers such as Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, Lord Dunsany, and R.H. Barlow. I came across this site while looking for writing tips, and was pleased to have this opportunity to have someone review my story, or at least, the first few paragraphs of it. I hope someone can go over these paragraphs and tell me what I did wrong, and right, so that I can make this story as good a strange tale as can be! Here it is:

    Yazul the young goatherd layed his head upon a cushion of grass and closed his eyes for a pleasant rest. His job was to tend and protect the thirty goats his family owned, which grazed upon the sweet plants that grew at the base of Mount Zan. Yazul, though a good-natured lad, was a lazy daydreamer, and would often sneak in a nap or two even while watching his animals. They never got in trouble anyway, always staying nearby, and no wolves or thieves ever lurked in these parts. Besides he and his herd, and the looming presence of Zan itself, there were only green fields all around. His family’s home was beyond several tall hills in the distance, allowing the boy a nap without rebuke.

    Yazul took one last moment to gaze up at Zan, admiring its sloping green ridge which traveled upward like a vast snake into colossal cliffs and unseen misty peaks. His family had known this mountain for countless generations, and were so impressed by its majesty they once thought it to be a divine monarch which ruled the land. Zan was respected and even feared by his ancestors, who in bygone times would climb onto one of its cliffs and sacrifice a member of their herd on it, as an offering to permit their other animals to be loosed upon its greenery.

    Since then this practice had stopped, for gods and spirits no longer occupied the practical lives of his family. No curse had ever befallen them since the sacrifices ceased, but Yazul, in his mind of fancy and wonder, liked to believe that Zan had had its fill of blood and passively allowed the family to stay even without it. A being of such primordial age and stature couldn’t possibly need the tiny gifts of mortals, he thought.

    The young goatherd drew in enough of the mountain’s beauty to impress it upon his memory, and so peacefully drifted into sleep. He took the image of the mountain with him into his dreams, populating its cliffs with the genii and daemons of ancient tales, which danced and howled and laughed at the ignorant humans of the land far beneath them. Forked tails lashed and cloven hooves clattered. Strange paws gripped instruments of impossible design, and played a musical cacophony which would drive any sensible man to madness. Yazul, in a shapeless dream form he could only half-notice, joined the mad beings of dreamland in their howling and dancing, on the faerie lantern-lit peaks of Zan.

    He had slept like this for some time, much longer than he intended. When at last he awoke from the revelries of his dreams, horror immediately pressed upon his mind and drained all of the rest and ease from his face. All of his goats were gone. Yazul leapt from the grass and searched for his herd in panic. He found not a single goat anywhere on the fields or behind the hills. Once he even took a chance to peek over the tall hills farther away, grimly hopeful that his family had caught him sleeping and tricked him by taking the animals with them, but all he saw were his parents and siblings minding their own chores around their pitched tent home, with no goat in sight.

    Yazul would not return home without his herd. He spent much time searching all around the more remote fields for them, even the desolate rocky lands far away, but found not even wolf-eaten remains or the tents of nomadic thieves. The boy, frustrated and confused, returned to the ancestral fields of his family. While contemplating what to do next, he looked up once more at the lone, towering Zan. His goats couldn’t have wandered anywhere and disappeared so suddenly, except up that mist-shrouded mountain. With determination driven by desperation rather than courage, Yazul began his ascent up the green, snake-like ridge, and entered into the misty realm of Zan.

  • balake

    Guilt, Guilt, Guilt

    Here’s what it’s like to bear up under the burden of so much guilt: everywhere you drag yourself you leave a trail. Late at night, you gaze back and view an upsetting record of where you’ve been. At the medical center where they brought my brothers, I stood banging my head against a corner of a crash cart. When one of the nurses saw me, I said, “There; that’s better. That kills the thoughts before they grow.”


    I am Boris Yakovlevich Prushinsky, chief engineer of the Department of Nuclear Energy, and my younger brother, Mikhail Vasilyevich, was a senior turbine engineer serving reactor unit No. 4 at the Chernobyl power station, on duty the night of 26 April 1986. Our half-brother Petya and his friend were that same night outside the reactor’s cooling tower on the Pripyat river, fishing, downwind. So you can see that our family was right in the thick of what followed. We were not—how shall we put it?—very lucky that way. But then, like their country, the Prushinskys have always been first to protest that no one should waste any pity on them. Because the Prushinskys have always made their own luck.

    The All-Prushinsky Zero Meter Diving Team

    My father owns one photo of Mikhail, Petya, and myself together. It was taken by our mother. She was no photographer. The three of us are arranged by height on our dock over the river. We seem to be smelling something unpleasant. It’s from the summer our father was determined to teach us proper diving form. He’d followed the Olympics from Mexico City on our radio, and the exploits of the East German Fischer had filled him with ambition for his boys. But our dock had been too low, and so he’d called it the Zero Meter Diving Platform. The bottom where we dove was marshy and shallow and frightened us. “What are you frightened of?” he said to us. “I’m not frightened. Boris, are you frightened?” “I’m not frightened,” I told him, though my brothers knew I was. I was ten and imagined myself his ally. Petya was five. Mikhail was seven. Both are weeping in the photo, their hands on their thighs.

    Sometimes at night when our mother was still alive our father would walk the ridge above us, to see the moon on the river, he said. He would shout off into the darkness: he was Victor Grigoryevich Prushinsky, director of the Physico-Energy Institute. While she was alive, that was the way our mother—Mikhail’s and my mother—introduced him. Petya’s mother didn’t introduce him to anyone. Officially, Petya was our full brother, but at home our father called him Half-life. He said it was a physicist’s joke.

    “Give your brother your potatoes,” he would order Petya. And poor little Petya would shovel his remaining potatoes onto Mikhail’s plate. During their fights, Mikhail would say to him things like, “Your hair seems different than ours. Don’t you think?”

    So there was a murderousness to our play. We went on rampages around the dacha, chopping at each other with sticks and clearing swaths in the lilacs and wildflowers in mock battles. And our father would thrash us. He used an ash switch. Four strokes for me, then three for Mikhail, and I was expected to apply the fourth. Then three for Petya, and Mikhail was expected to apply the fourth. Our faces were terrible to behold. We always applied the final stroke as though we wanted to outdo the first three.

    When calm, he quoted to us Strugatsky’s dictum that reason was the ability to use the powers of the surrounding world without ruining that world. Striped with welts and lying on our bellies on our beds, we tinted his formulation with our own colorations of fury and misery. Twenty-five years later, that same formulation would appear in my report to the nuclear power secretary of the Central Committee concerning the catastrophic events at the power station at Chernobyl.


    Our mother died of the flu when I was 11. Petya lost his only protector and grew more disheveled and strange and full of difference. Mikhail for a full year carried himself as though he’d been petrified by a loud noise. Later we joked that she’d concocted the flu to get away, and that she was off on a beach in the Black Sea. But every night we peeped at one another across the dark floor between our beds, vacant and alone.

    In the mornings I took to cupping Mikhail’s fist with my palms when he was thumb-sucking, as though I were praying. It brought us nose to nose and made me shudder with an enraged tenderness. Petya sucked his thumb as well, interested.

    Still have plenty to go!! 🙂 Next chapter is ‘A warm night in April’

  • Sōko

    I want to write a love story, but I don’t know how to start it! Any ideas??

  • Sarah Bourgeois

    I could hear the wind blowing and whistling through the trees, like a giant in deep slumber.

    Tonight, the sky was clear, and you could see the stars, shining down from their places in the heavens, like beacons of hope for all humanity.

    I could catch the faint scent of wildflowers, floating in on the summer breeze as fireflies danced in the moonlight.

    I sat up there, in the big oak tree, in the center of the woods that surrounded Fairhaven. The night closed its long arms around me, as I floated in and out of my distant memories, somehow, getting lost in time.

    This is the last night of summer, yet somehow tonight seemed to have a different meaning for me. It signified the last night of my so called freedom, and the replacement of everything I knew. When tomorrow comes, I will have to leave this town, I will have to start my entire life over again from scratch.

    When I think about how much I will lose, I want to cry and vow never to leave again, but I know that to stay, would mean nothing but bad tidings.

    These days, my life seems so uncertain, it seems like, everywhere I look, I see change; nothing ever seems to stay the same. How did my life all go by so fast? It seemed like just yesterday I was running, petrified, from my older brother, and now, I’m seventeen, and I have teenage problems of my own.

    Even though, they are simple problems such as, deciding whether or not a boy likes me, I still congratulate myself on having them, because it means that maybe; I’m finally living a normal life.

    Even so, all good things must, at one point or another, come to an end, and I am once again reminded of the fact, that my life will always be far from normal.

    My abilities or “gifts” as my brother would have said made sure of that. As long as I had these powers to look into another person’s emotions and God knows what else, my life would always be this. I would always be running from the people who want my powers for their own.

    Suddenly, the crunching of leaves underneath me jerked me out of my thoughts. I tried to turn towards the sound but lost my balance and fell down into the thorn bushes below.

    Thorns tore at my crimson hair and ivory ankles. Suddenly, I regretted not wearing something more than just a short white mid-rift and black Capri’s that bsrely covered the majority of my skin.

    I tried to pick myself up off the ground but tripped over a tree branch and my foot caught painfully in a tight ring of weeds. I reached out to release myself but quickly withdrew my hand as I recognized the potent smell of nightshade. The thorns had enough poison within it’s thorns to kill a small army.

    Behind me, someone started laughing and with a voice as deep as thunder but light as the wind, “Wow, that was pitiful.” I rolled my eyes not bpthering to even look up at the man who dared mock me.

    “Self righteous jerk.” I muttered under my breath so he wouldn’t hear.

    He chuckled once again his voice a mixture of annoying and exotic. “Do you always climb trees and instantly fall out of them or do you just do that when you want to make a lasting impression?”

    I felt my face instantly flush a scarlet red,from both embarrassment and anger. I turned around, to look at the boy who made the comment, and at first, I have to admit, I was astonished.

    He was different somehow, there was just something about him that captured my attention. It must’ve been the way his hair seemed to capture every beam of moonlight that shone down upon it, or maybe it was the way he carried himself like he was the one thing that kept this world spinning. I analyzed him intensely as if I could figure him out with a glance. If I could guess what he knew maybe i could use him to free myself once and for all. This endless, deadly cycle would finally be broken. I would no longer have to run.

    The very thought of a normal life excited me in a way that even words could not express. It could mean that I could finally live in peace.

    Suddenly, I wasn’t here in this world anymore but I was in his. I could feel what he felt, I could feel his anger, pain,joy and sadness. It was overwhelming and I felt a rain of emotions rush through me like a wildfire, consuming me and becoming part of my very being. It felt like a fire deep in my soul as his feelings burned through me scratching at my veins like a thousand particles of sandpaper. It tried to mold and shape me into something I’m not.

    So, I did what my older brother would’ve told me to do, I picked the emotion that was easiest to feel, and focused all of my energy on it. All at once, I felt this surge of soul-crushing anger and I snapped, “For your information, I didn’t know you were there, so it obviously wasn’t for you personal entertainment. Now are you going to stop being a jerk and actually help me, or are you going to stand there and gloat like an idiot?”

    He smiled and I swear my heart skipped a beat, “Well normally I would stand here and gloat, but I happen to be in a very helpful mood today. So I might consider helping you, but if, and only if, you can help me in return.” He held out his hand as if to help me up, and I wanted to take it but I had to take note of the fact that he obviously didn’t care to explore the source of the problem concerning my current situation. No, instead he got this bright idea to try and just pull me to my feet, slicing them to ribbons in the process.

    I grimaced and rolled my eyes , trying to act indifferent, and said, ” Hey, have you ever considered that maybe, the reason I can’t get up might be because I am being,I don’t know, held down by a ring of thorns around my feet?”

    He looked down and I saw a look of surprise flash across his, normally charming, face, but then it was replaced by the normal, heart wrenching smile, “You know sweetheart, have you ever thought that maybe, I was trying to you know, seal our deal with a handshake?”

    I smiled and tried to make it look forced and said, “Really? By pulling me up and dicing me up like a sack of potatoes?” I feigned a grateful face, “How sweet. I do find it funny, however, that you’d put yourself before the safety of the one who you’re, so desperately, trying to save in the first place. That must get you all the ladies because, I sdon’t know about you, but I love being treated like trash.” I paused and enjoyed the look of offense and slight shock displayed on his face and then , satisfied continued my cynicism, “You know what, forget it I will do this myself. I don’t need you, or your little deal, to survive. I should’ve never agreed to it in the first place. I could’ve saved myself a lot of trouble and time.”

    He scoffed, “What a pretty, defenseless redhead like you? I don’t think so; you wouldn’t even know how to get through the first branch without crying like a baby. Oh and by the way, you didn’t agree to the deal because you didn’t even know what it was.” He turned halfway around and sighed, “Now, I guess you never will. You’ll just have to deal with your curiosity , as it’s tearing at your soul for the rest of your miserable life.” He waited for me to give in, with that wretched smile stretched across his arrogant face.

    After a awhile of simply debating whether or not I wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing me give in, I finally said, “Fine. I’ll go along with it. What’s the deal?

    He smiled and said with a sense of pride and sarcasm in his voice, “Finally! She gets a brain!.”

    I rolled my eyes, “Just tell me.”

    “Okay, I need your help finding someone of utmost importance, a girl to be exact. You see I am a Hunter, but I am formally known as Huntsman. I will tell you the details when I know for sure that you’re on my side, and in return I will help you. Sound like a deal?”

    I paused and weighed the pros and cons of the situation, and and repeated the grounds of the deal back to him “Let me get this straight, you want me to help you find some girl in return for your help?”

    He nodded “Yep.”

    I twirled my long curly hair around my finger, wondering why I was even considering helping this jerk with such a huge favor, when all he was really doing was helping me get out of a thorn bush.Of course, I have to admit that my motives weren’t entirely pure. Every girly molecule in my body was screaming at me to go with him but i still couldn’t help but ask, “Why would I help you when I can just have easily free myself?”

    He looked at me gravely and said, “Believe it or not, you need me and not just to get out of this bush.” He cocked his head to one side his evergreen eyes studying me, ” Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t recognize you Anastasia? Seriously, you are recognizable to just about everyone with your distinct blood red hair, deep violet eyes, and fair skin. There are people willing to pay a pretty price for you and at this rate they will find you.”

    I looked into those piercing eyes of his and I knew that somewhere, deep down he was telling the truth. This may have been what my brother insisted would happen if I didn’t move every year at precisely the same time every year. “How long do I have until they find me?”

    He looked at me with pity in his eyes, ” Just a matter of days, at this rate.”

    “Okay deal. Just get me out of here and keep me alive.”

    He did a low, sarcastic bow that made his weapons, which hung inside his leather jacket, clink together menacingly, and said, “Alright then, the Huntsman is at your service.”

  • Devon

    He took a deep breath. “Supposedly, after the Earth died all those years ago ships started to come down from the sky. People called these ship ‘the Golden Chariots’, supposedly they were made of solid gold.” Solid gold? Gold doesn’t sound like a good material to make a ship out of. “The ‘things’ on board would bring people aboard their Chariots and take them off into the sky. People called these things ‘Angels’. They took a lot of people to the sky, people who saw them take off said they were taken off to paradise. They saved them this dead husk of a planet.”

  • chirayu

    not for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    • WritingBoy

      OK. But that is not feedback or a review. If you don’t like it, use some manners or tact, and refrain from the ‘blow off’ remark. Yelling at someone with the exagerated use of the exclamation mark tells us more about you than it does about a sincere effort at writing. Good or bad. They made the effort.

  • temilorun faseyitan

    hi my name is temilorun

  • Here is my result of the exercise. Thanks for feedback:

    There it was. The settlement on one of the Empire’s planets where a traitor was. They hid themselves well apparently, but it was of no use now. The information about them was in the right hands, or should I say the wrong hands? It doesn’t matter as they will be dead soon enough.

    I enter the town without incident. As one of Ziost’s few settlements, it is brimming with life. There are sith, both red and not, wandering from building to building. I can see small militia, and imperial troopers. I also see other shadier people—Intelligence will be happy to know the traitor has not killed off some of our own.

    Or has the person not because they are traitors too? Only time will tell and I cannot afford to waste time on ghosts. This is why my clothing is civilian and my demeanor casual. The only give away I am more than simply civil is the rifle on my back. Thankfully it is more a basic blaster rifle than my long-ranged toy at home. It is wonderful provided I can kill from far away. But no, this has to be an up close and personal job.

    I enter a cantina and gaze around the room. I get a drink and settle in the room. I pretend to focus on a dancer. People come and people go, but not the person I am looking for. The person… How many of my people have died because of them, or worse became Jedi? Too man. Sith should not be Jedi, everyone knows that. Except this person who born in the Empire, yet secretly betrays us into the hands of our enemies.

    I see across the room someone I have had many intimate encounters with. He looks at me as if he wanted to approach, but I subtly shake my head. No intimacy today. Just cold justice served with even colder revenge. Why colder revenge? I cannot tell you as my programming forbids it. Let’s just say this person has not been good to the Empire at large, nor myself in particular.

    “Hey there, cutie.”

    I look up to see a red sith woman lean down. She’s in a dancer’s outfit? One of my own people reduced to such… figures. “Hello,” I answer.

    She leans close to me. “I see you have been staring at me. Is there something I can get for you?”

    I put some credits beneath her. “Nothing beyond another lovely dance.” Please do not push the issue, lady. “I always thought our people were graceful.”

    She bows and resumes dancing. My flame across the room is whispering to someone. Normally I would not give it much thought, as field agents are always whispering. We whisper more than we talk, if talk is required at all. “I have other graces too, handsome.”

    The dancer again. She is persistent, yes? Obviously I cannot have a simple drink without being propositioned for something else. Then again, I suppose I should let her know I am not interested in her in such a way. Well at least until I notice my flame pointing at me and the man he’s whispering to glance over. I cannot look directly, but I do believe the man I sought is the one my flame is discussing.

    Good thing I did not tell my flame anything. I did not even tell him which branch the military I work for. I turn to the dancer as the twosome over there start to get up: “Oh?” Although this is contrary to my very being, I lower my voice as I look up through the bangs of my hair: “Do you share them?”

    The men were approaching closer. She touches her mouth and nods. “I always share my grace with a man such as you.”

    The men reach me but I pay them no mind. “A beautiful thing such as yourself should not have to share if she doesn’t wish it.”

    “No she should not,” my flame commented. It was then I looked him in the eye. He seemed a bit pale. His palms were sweaty. The man he was speaking with was right behind him. Oh dear, this might be a double header.

    “Welcome gentlemen,” I speak while sipping my drink, “here to watch the show?”

    “I always join you to watch the show, Va’io. You should know this.” I know it indeed.

    “I see you have a friend for this show. Cannot say I am upset; however, we should not have this beautiful woman witness what we get to behind closed doors.”

    “No we shouldn’t,” the man behind him answered. Or was it a woman? Their face was wearing a mask. I shouldn’t be quick to judge, should I? Aside from my flame being pushed forward and I glimpse a blaster behind him. His eyes glanced back to the captor and to me.

    He’s hoping I rescue him. Yet no one should know I’m coming. Not even him. Which means it is time for me to get to work. And I do not rescue. Nor do I leave many witnesses.

    “I would happy to see how three men have fun.” The poor dancer. “So long as I receive compensation for witnessing such a show.”

    I smile. “You’re always welcome, miss. I do believe in sharing manly passions with the other sex. Shall we?”

    She bowed and lead us upstairs. I made sure to be the last person in the room. I hear as I slowly shut the door: “You should re-think your choice in boyfriends, Cipher 8. Otherwise, intelligence will need a new Cipher.”

    They’re right, I should. But no time for reflection now. The person speaks, “Keyword—aahhh!” and then is cut off. I shoot them. Without force, I still retain my fast reflexes.

    The woman and my flame looked between the corpse and me. His shoulders lessened their tension and he wiped his palms on his pants. “Thank gods, Crim. I was afraid we were done for.”

    Shows what he knows about a Cipher. Know what is unfortunate? He is still clueless. I approach as he keeps talking. “I don’t know how they got your intelligence name, but they somehow made me talk. I didn’t even know I had a keyword in me…”

    I smile as I get close enough to him. “It is alright. I am sure you would never betray me, personally. However,” I pull him to me and into my vibroknife, “I cannot risk being exposed. I’m sorry.”

    His corpse falls to the floor. Am I forgetting something? Oh yes, the dancer who is looking in horror from her spot on the bed. I wonder how fast she stripped off her dancer outfit. I turn to her and look her body up and down. She cringes back in horror at me.

    If only she did not hear either of my names. If only she had not left her belt on in a way it stuck out a little. I pull out my blaster and shoot it. The image melted away to reveal the one I’m looking for. “I thought you should know that I have no attraction to women. A pretty red face would never have worked.”

    I fire twice and a third corpse is in the room. I contact the Watcher via my commlink: “All three of my targets are dead. Time to head home, yes?”

    Watcher V answered, “Yes, well done Cipher 8. We have another assignment for you. Clean up crew is on route.”

    I walk outside. Another day in Imperial Intelligence. Hmmm? Oh, I’m sorry, did you think there was only one person on my target list? I recommend against asking more questions, as if I answer you I would have to ensure you did not talk. Ever. You wouldn’t want the outcome to be that, yes?


  • Alan Wang

    Alan is the award winning author of more than 1,000,058 books. He had practice on this website since when he is 4. Alan loves to write and never give up all story. The 1st book Alan wrote was the “The Scary Hotel” and more than 2,000 kids loved his awesome books! Read the cool books from Alan and never forget, try your best.

  • The Writer

    Hi, I am currently writing a story and I had this wild idea about what an alternate version of the American Civil War would look like. I mean no offence to anyone with this idea but one cannot suppress his/her creativity, no can he?

    So I re imagined the outcome of the civil war and reversed the outcome by making the white folk victorious but now I am stuck.

    So far I have made the white folk victorious and put the black people back into a state of slavery. I have decided to make my protagonist a white man who had sanctioned all the attacks (As he worked for the country’s treasury) during the war but all this time he was torn apart between his morality and pressure of his fellow white colleagues and now he has embarked on the journey of correcting his wrongs.

    I made him resign his job and I am thinking of making him the founder of a secret movement that would go on to restart the civil rights movement. This is where I am stuck because I am desperately trying to avoid cliches but this direction of the story is headed straight to cliche land.

    If anyone has any ideas as to how I can take my story to a non cliche climax please help me.

  • Walter Alonso

    Thank you I want to be a writer , I started writing a my first draft “The Void of the Pianist” I’m twelve.

  • Baka

    Within a cave without a physical location, an omnipotent being lived. He spent his literally endless days doing the same thing. He sharpened his scythe and took those who were to be taken. He has done this since the dawn of life. However, everything changed on that fateful winter day…

    He was doing his usual thing, about to reap a lady who was destined to die in a car crash. Until he saw her for the first time. She was, in all of his years of seeing people, the most beautiful of all. And so he spared her. He disguised himself as a young man and introduced himself to her. In several years he learned all about her,that she was named Rose after her grandmother, that she grew up in poverty and how she got a scholarship to a nice college that she otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford, how she valued knowledge over anything else.

    The more Death learned about her, the more intoxicated he felt around her. And so he courted her, and in time, she bore him twins.

    This is the story of the sons of Death, Alucard and Icaris.

  • PsychedelicNightmare

    Hello, here is my story. please read 🙂

    I checked the time, 12 past 10. I glanced back and forth, the streets were almost empty
    except for the sound of wind howling. Not a single yellow cabbie car was at
    sight. Even though January’s ending the cold and shivers of last December hung
    in the atmosphere. I hugged the cotton trench coat to my body and headed home. It’s
    never safe to wonder alone in the dark but I kept going despite my paranoia. At
    the back of my head a red neon sign kept blazing DANGER! in bold capital
    letter. I did my best to ignore them.
    What was I
    going to do, tomorrow? landlord is going to be on my ass again. I still don’t
    have job how am I going to pay rent and afford my tuition fees. Two months passed since I moved here and I ‘m already
    regretting my ability to making
    decisions, not like I can go back anyway.
    The dark alley which leads to dull 3 storey building came
    into view and I let out a sigh of relief. I swallowed increasing my pace as I
    walk into the alley. I’ve done this so many times its become a routine now. My
    nostrils flare at the stink, seriously
    would it kill for them to put a streetlight here or at least clean it up a bit.
    I fished inside my purse for the keys, gotcha. I took two
    steps reaching for the door instead, stumbled on something hard and fell face
    down. I immediately knew I had touched something gross. Sticky and gooey form
    of liquid substance. Oh god, I did not just touch vomit. I tried to get up, I
    placed my other hand on the hard object I stumbled on. I heard a moan so quiet
    I thought I imagined it. I tried to get up and hear the same sound but this
    time a little weaker as if who or whatever it, was in pain.

    • OnlineGirl

      Loved it! really good job, making the reader want to read more. I like how throughout there was a sense of danger, and the reader could tell that something bad was going to happen. Very enticing

  • OnlineGirl

    I would greatly appreciate it if you could all give your feedback on the beginning of a novel i have written. Thanks!

    I finally felt free. My body was my own as I ran, my long legs making me feel as I were
    simply gliding through the long streets of Hillberry. What a wonderful feeling
    it was to feel content as a body, rather then many body parts that were slowly
    falling out of the cracking shell that was failing to perform its job in
    protecting your bodies exterior. This is only the physical side of things. I
    believe that mental stability is more of a necessity then physical stability. I
    would rather be lying on the side of a road, my body and the ground beneath me
    slowly being discoloured by my deep red blood, and have every bone in my body
    to be broken, then to be mentally unstable. You must believe me! There is
    nothing worse then not only not being able to control your thoughts, but not
    being able to understand what such thoughts are in the first place.

    I ran some more, until I had successfully ran the perimeter of this small town. This horrible
    town, which I have always believed had been cursed by the devil. I believe the
    devil himself had paid Hillberry a visit and cursed it till the end of the
    Earth. If this is untrue, then the devil cursed my house alone.

    Maybe outside of my house it was a totally different world, and the devil had no idea
    of its existence. Maybe there was such a thing as happiness. Such a thing as
    children running happily. Running because they wished to run, not because they
    had to run from something. Maybe all of the teenage girl’s biggest problem, was
    what they would wear to the upcoming party, or if the boy they liked, liked her
    back, or why their mother hated them so much because she wouldn’t buy them the
    limited edition Two Faced Foundation that they “needed”. Maybe teenage boys
    only had to worry about the newest PlayStation game that had come out and how
    they had to kill more zombies then their friends, or maybe they were stressed
    over their fake I.D. I mean what If it didn’t work? Wouldn’t that just be so
    damn horrible if they couldn’t drink illegally?!

    I finally stopped running and angrily wiped away the tears from my eyes.
    “Why Me?” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
    I was in a deserted playground that was covered in graffiti as I fell on my knees and
    started hitting the floor with aggravation hating my stupid, useless and
    unworthy existence.

    • Earth2Lixie

      Fabulous, darling! I love the juxta-position-type description, between the mental and physical representations of being free! 🙂

  • David McLoughlin Tasker

    I shared this with my groups and it was a big encouragement. I run two charitable groups under the auspices of the University of the Third Age (U3A) and international charity that provides on-going learning for free. May I use some of your material with them?

  • Mel

    Thanks Joe Bunting! Your posts are awesome!!!

  • kaylia

    i was on the bus one day and imagined two guys came onto the bus and kid napped me. Everyone on the bus died. the next day on the way to the bus stop i looked at the great big forest and imagined getting kid napped there. i soon kept imagining it until final i desided i would get my thought on paper. so here i am now a teenager who has already written 13,000 words about bullying and kid napping.

  • Aly

    Thank you, Mr. Bunting! I am confident about writing my story now!

  • Yash Gochke

    This is just something I wrote in 2 mins. Haven’t edited it or anything. I’ve never written a story before. I don’t even think that this is actually a story. Please read and comment.

    He sat there in his hostel room and wondered what he was going to do with his life. His roommate was asleep on the bed beside his. It was 1:30 am and sleep was still evading him like a cunning thief. He thought about how he spent his college days and wondered if anything he did was actually worthwhile. He studied only during the exams do he couldn’t really call himself a studious person but he always managed to get great marks even with the measly amount of hours he spent studying. On a normal working day, he attended college and spent the rest of the day just whiling away time acting as if he did something but actually did nothing. He watched TV shows and movies on his laptop till his mind went numb and he got up from the bed only after his body started paining from all the lying down. He did go out for a jog almost everyday so he couldn’t be called ‘physically’ lazy. But his mind was never really working at full power. He knew he was capable of doing so many better things with his time. Everyday he thought that he would change and start doing something other than wasting time but he just couldn’t do it. His sleeping pattern was messed up as well. He slept at 3 am and got up at 2 pm which meant that his whole morning was wasted without him even knowing it. He knew his mind was sharp and that he was intelligent. His teachers and parents had been telling this to him his whole life. But they had also been telling him that he could do and achieve so much more with that ‘intelligence’ of his. He thought about all the opportunities he had missed during school just because of his laid back attitude. Everytime he witnessed a debate competition he would hear the participants speak and smirk to himself. He knew he could do so much better if he was up there because he knew all the facts. But he never made the effort to go up there. Was he just too lazy or did he not want to shatter his illusion of being better than the rest by going up there and failing. If he never tried,he never failed.

  • Earth2Lixie

    Untill I read this (twenty minutes ago!) I had a ‘first-draft-perfection’ mindset; here is the first paragraph of one of my stories:

    Blink. Blink.

    The droplets of water fell softly upon the stone paving, nothing stirring in the noiseless night; all was quiet over Canterlot, only the occasional fox rustling the far-off heather. Above, the darkness was not quite black, but a deep purple in colour, with stars peppering the abyss that was night. Strangely, the air neither tasted nor smelt of anything. Shadows were guided towards the cobbles by the light of the street lamps. Luna’s Moon shone full and bright onto the city below.

  • Pol F


    Colorless Snow

    It was early in the morning. I was staring blankly at the ceiling wondering what I’d do today. Everyday, before getting out of bed I would plan my day, which wasn’t helpful since the day would go the total opposite of what I had said. I looked around my carefully decorated room that seemed to be full of something other people could see but I couldn’t, I’ve never been able to distinguish what an everyday child would call “Colors”. Reluctantly, I pulled my legs out and stretched my back, just then the alarm went off. “Good morning Jacob!” my mom shouted.

    “G’morning” I replied. I wasn’t in the mood of choosing matching clothes so I just grabbed the first thing in my sight, a shirt and some jeans. Slowly, I walked down the stairs and saw my mom.

    “Have you slept well?” she must have a child sensor because she wasn’t even facing me while saying that. A smile sprouted in my face, she had prepared my favorite breakfast, “PANCAKES!” I shouted as I flashed down the stairs.

    I devoured the pancakes, if I had eaten 30 pancakes I would still easily accept another 10. Rapidly, I helped my mom clean the dishes, grabbed my backpack, gave her a kiss and blasted through the door. Slowing down, I walked on the humid soil and looked up the dark sky filled with little lights that seemed to guide me. Everyday, since I was so far from school I had to walk about an hour to arrive, I’ve thought about riding a bicycle but i never got to learn. My mom didn’t know and Dad almost never came home, and when he did he never payed attention to me. I’ve tried teaching myself, I grabbed my bicycle and tried going down a hill but I lost my balance and went rolling down all the way. Since then i’ve had a scar in my left-knee, my classmates laugh about my “stupid” incident and that’s why i haven’t tried or asked anyone to teach me but again, i don’t have anyone that can teach me how to ride a bicycle, not even my mom. Speaking of my mom, she knows how to do a lot of things, she plays football, basketball, cooks amazing dishes, at that time I didn’t know what i would do without her.

    Two months later…

    I was returning from a long but interesting school day and arrived at the entrance of my house, “Mom! I’m back” I said as I knocked furiously on the door, I did that a lot of times until I got tired and thought about how I could enter. A thought came flashing into my head, My bedroom door, I left it open… right? I climbed up the side of the house and jumped onto my balcony, it wasn’t high so it was easy to get anywhere into the outer parts of the house. I threw my backpack on my bed and ran downstairs.

    “Mom?” I said, no one responded. As I ran through all the rooms in my house searching for my mother, I decided to call my dad. “Dad, i just came home and mom isn’t-”

    “I know son, a man has called me telling me that they have taken her, we will have to pay him a significant amount of money to get her back. I’ve always thought that by becoming such a powerful and wealthy entrepreneur would bring me big problems. I’m on a flight to come and pick you up. I’ll be here by tomorrow.” he said with a worried voice. He hung up, I didn’t think about what just happened and packed my suitcase.

    The next morning….

    I heard loud knocks on the door, my stomach roared as I got out of bed, I hadn’t eaten yesterday.

    When I got downstairs I stuck out my head on the window, “Dad!?” “Open the door, we have to go i’ll tell you more in our way to Spain” he responded “Spain!?!” But- “Just open the door Jacob”. I grabbed the keys on top of the living room table and opened the door. He came in and completely ignored me as he ran upstairs. He grabbed my suitcase and walked down the stairs, then, he grabbed my arm and got into his car. We drove for almost six hours before we arrived to the airport, i really wanted to know what was happening but he seemed so worried I decided not to say anything. The flight took six hours and one hour to drive to dad’s house. As soon as I arrived my dad ordered some pizza, we ate and automatically went to sleep, the day had been very tiring.

    *** A new day

    “Beep-Beep-Beep” the alarm woke me up instantly. “Good morning dad” I shouted “Hey”, as annoying as it could get I was starting to miss my mom’s really loud ‘Good Morning’ scream, which reminded me about asking my dad for information about her. I got dressed up and went downstairs. My dad was sipping on a coffee mug that had Best Dad Ever depicted on it. “So… what happened to mom? I got lost in the part A man called me” He gestured me to take a seat, “The other day I received a call from a man saying that they had mom, and that we would have to pay a large amount of money to get her back” I instantly burst into tears Did he really have to be so direct? I thought, as he pulled me into his chest he said “I’ve contacted the police, that man thankfully told me his location.” As I wiped my last emotion, I felt excited and happy to be back with my father.

    “Ready for the first day of school?” “Sure!” I replied with a flare of excitement, I neatly put all my supplies into my backpack and headed to school, thankfully it was only five mins away. I still remember my first day of school, the teacher was talking about a solidified liquid that apparently fell from the sky and covered the mountains, since then i’ve wanted to see how it falls and looks although i’ve never been able to distinguish or even tell what are “Colors”. As soon as my dad dropped me off in the school’s front entrance I had a very big smile in my face It’s going to be a good day I said to myself. My class was 7A bottom floor, at first i was taking time to look around the school when, all of a sudden a man with a perfectly shaved beard which must have been the director stopped me. “Hey, are you Jacob the new student from QwaQwa?” “Yes” I replied, “Let me take you to the classroom, would you prefer if I introduced you or you did yourself?” “I’ll introduce myself, thanks anyways” I responded with a little sample of my excitement. As soon as the director opened the door all the students stood up, my eyes were instantly looking at a girl in the front row with the most beautiful eyes i’ve ever seen, I felt like a spark was lighting between us. I spent about half an hour explaining myself, everyone woah-ed when I said I was color-blind, many hands were raised up after I said that. After my long introduction I sat in the back row next to a student that seemed nice “Hey, my name’s Jacob”, “Hey… My name is um… Fernando” “It’s a pleasure Fernando” I replied with my best spanish accent, we both started laughing which tied a friendship bond between us.

    That same day after school Fernando asked me if I wanted to come over to his house. The air was blowing cold and the sky was filled with clouds. As soon as I got home I asked my dad if I could have a sleepover in Fernando’s house “I see you’ve already made new friends, that’s good! And yes, you can.” “Thanks Dad you’re the best” “Have fu-” “BAM” the door sounded as I ran out to Fernando’s mom car. As we were driving to his house high in the mountains his mom said “I heard in the news it’s going to snow today, you two could go do a snowball fight” “Sure, and then we can sit and watch how the snow falls slowly, right?” Fernando said with excitement. I was staring out the window watching the angry clouds about to let their power down on the mountains. “I’ve never seen snow before” for a minute the car was silent it seemed everyone was questioning my lack of vision experience, “Um.. I can take you up to the highest point, it’s not that far away from our house” Fernando returned. In that instant the car stopped, we were in front of a beautifully decorated house with christmas ornaments. After stepping out of the car,I felt a cold thing that fell on top of my nose, “I think a bird just pooped in my nose”, “No Jacob that is snow, can you see the delicate and graceful movements the little snowflakes are doing in the air?” Fernando asked, I didn’t respond and watched the stunning view of the mountains getting covered in this “Snow” thing. Fernando grabbed my arm and helped me up some rocks that were the path to the highest point. We sat and watched the wonderful view “The mountains are getting painted or perhaps covered in a blanket, whatever it is, anyone must experience this sight and feeling you get when watching snow” “Whatever it is, although it is a common natural phenomenon, it is something you will never forget.” Fernando said while following the alluring, slow movements of the snow”, “I wish I could have seen this with my dad and mom”.

    After about an hour contemplating the view we decided to go back to the house where Fernando’s mom had prepared hot chocolate for us. We had dinner and went to sleep. Just before falling asleep I remembered about the heart-warming feeling the snow gave me.

    ***The next morning

    After a long and cold night I woke up and immediately opened the curtains to reveal nothing but a snowless mountain, I looked around for a glimpse of snow but nothing was there. I had waited all my life to see snow and could only see it for 30 minutes, although this disappointed me, I still thought that life had kind of rewarded me for my perseverance even though I will never know what color snow is or even what colors are. Fernando’s mom called us into the car. Since yesterday, I felt as a part of me was complete although one was still missing. My heart sank in that instant, through this week I hadn’t remembered about my mom, where she was and how she was. Fernando’s mom took me home, I thanked them for inviting me and their wonderful hospitality and rushed back home. I stopped instantly on the front step watching how my dad seemed to smile and hug someone, the glass was too small to see the face of that person. Just as i opened the door….

    I was paralyzed, my arms and legs weren’t responding. My eyes were fixated in a point, on someone. Many emotions had appeared in that instant, I couldn’t handle it and felt my legs failing. I felt the cold hard ground on my head and my world went blank. I felt someone grabbing me “Jacob, Jacob!” just then I was conscious again. My mom kissed my cheek What? How could my mom been found so fast? That doesn’t matter now. I jumped onto my mother’s chest and hugged her as tightly as I could.

    “Thank the police, that man left me alone in a basement, I was screaming so loud that they threw the door down, as soon as they found me they took me to the police department and interrogated me about that man’s identity, although he remains unfound they brought me back home.”

    “I’m glad you’re here mom” I said as a river of tears poured down my cheeks. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’m here and we’re not going anywhere” she said as she pulled us two into hugging my dad. “I’ve seen snow mom, but not with you”… My mom smiled at my dad and then looked out the window “Want to go outside?”


    Copyright © 2016 by Pol F

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

  • farah Refaeiii

    Read the introduction of my first short story and tell me what do you think. 12a.m manhatten in the woods (lethal to go)
    Oh no! he stuttered .Up and down ,his eyes darted around following the dark entinty, hovering over him.”leave me for god’sake? “He moaned shaking with fear. Nooooo! The victim’s voice broke into what seemed to be an interrupted gasps, as the gigantic razor horns of the distorted creature digged into his flesh ,while pain engulfed his body…. The cold breeze that whopped over the abandoned forest supplied the atmosphere of terror.There was a slight pause .Then he let out a loud defeated shierk into the wild night ;for he knew it was his last tortorus moments in life.what uh.. am I here for?” He demanded ,with blood gushing out of his mouth.And again his words hit silence… yet worse,the sound that followed the storm of silence was the last sound he had ever wanted to hear. It was that of Abllahm!!Even in his semiconciouss state, he couldn’t be mistaken he knew him well! “There’s no room for mercy,for you broke the ever impenetrable wall of concealment”it’s impossible cause you saw, and once you did,you are irevoccably sent to hell”roared Ablahm into bolivar’s face.”it’s about time to build our own empire .”your end is inescapable ,and soon we will take over “screamed the unearthly creature. It was hard for Bolivar to make sense of the words, as his grip on life was loosened. Clinging to life in his last moments, he knew it was hell. His world was an arm’s reach from destruction .Few inches below him was his peeing as fast-flowing and warm as his blood, which flowed over the bloodthirsty ground.

  • Jennifer Alphonso

    Shouldn’t your title be “Ten Secrets to Writing better stories”?

  • Zoey Elizabeth Stambaugh

    I need some help. I’ve started tons of novels and have tons of good plots, but after writing about 6 chapters, I lose interest and start on another novel. Can you help me? What do you recommend??

    • LilianGardner

      Hi Zoey Elizabeth,
      I have the same problem as you do, however, I seem to have found a ‘cure’. I participate in a competition, which motivates me to create a story and forces me to keep writing to meet the deadline.
      I hope it works for you.
      All the best,

  • Victoria

    I have been struggling through my Creative Writing minor for a whole year. I know that’s not very long but I was super stressed out. This website is a lifesaver!!

  • Mohammed Nafar

    Hello guys. I’m a new writer and im not sure about the story ive written. could anyone send me a mail on mohammednafar786@gmail.com if you would lke to read it. thanks.

  • Dustin Smith

    Ok so I’ve wrote quite a bit but I’m not gunna write it all here I have like 32 college rule papers front and back that would clearly take forever instead I’m gunna do a small excerpt please tell me what yall think.
    The rain began to pour down as if the sky was weeping. He looks out the window as a bright light streaks across the sky, burning so bright u would beleive its a second sun. Curious I got up and ran outside as it fell into the lake. Sprinting to the lake I look and see that the water did not help the light instead it seems to have made it stronger. The whole body of water begins to bubble, steam escapes its surface. Wondering what is down there I jump in.

    Swimming to the bottom I sheild my eyes from the immense light. I notice a figure standing n the center and the light seems to radiate from him. As I draw closer I hear the figures words in my head ” cledwyn this is no dream. Danger is upon u all. My father has his eye set upon this world and once his eyes rest they destroy the target. He is Lord of the lands and for a good reason. Beware.” I try to speak but realizing I’m still underwater I metaphorically kick myself. I swim back to the surface get another breath and delve back down into the depths. As I draw closer I feel as if I speak my mind the man will hear me. “Lord of the lands? U said he is ur father why do u disobey him by telling me this? I’m sure he has some rules on warning the planet before attack?” I questioned. He replied with a simple answer “my father is a great man and someday I will rule his empire, however I beleive this is an unjust cause. He does not wish to help you nor does he wish to aid u like he does most planets that suffer instead he wishes to annihalate u out of greed. It is cruel and as much as I tell him so he has made up his mind. He will stop at nothing till your all dead.” With my lungs about to burst but curiousity raging through me I look to him. “Why tell me this? Why not my mom? I mean after all she’s the true protector of this world?” He does not answer for what seems like forever. Bubbles escape my lips, just as I think I can’t hold my breath much longer that I will die down here he sees me struggling. Out of generosity I am assuming he refills my lungs with air. ” how did u do that? And who are u anyway?” I hear a small chuckle in my head as if he was laughing at my question. “All will b revealed in time. However I’m telling u and not ur mother because u r destined for greater things. U must journey to the land of the dead and find ur true self before my father arrives. If not, if u stand around and do nothing, I’m afraid ur world will do nothing but burn to a pile of ash.” My eyebrows narrow as I look at him. “Land of the dead? Where is that?” I ask. “As I said all will b revealed in time.” He said calmy.

    My breath begining to drain from my lungs I swim for the surface. Not wanting another breath of his air. I don’t know why but I felt as if I asked he wouldn’t give it to me anyway. As the top of my head breaches the surface of the water the bubbles have all now ceased. Scanning the surface to see how far I am from shore I am smacked in the face with a wave. As waves bombard me I finally struck eyesight with the shore. Swimming with everything I have my lungs and arms feel like they will burst and fall off. I swim harder. Waves continue to bash into me sending me under the water. I feel the wind leave my body. Just when I think my time is up I feel something at my hand. An overhanging tree has a small branch that is invading into the water. Summoning everything I have I latch onto it and pull myself to the surface. I look on and notice the shore is right there I swim for it. Collapsing my body on the shore I look up. The man that I was speaking with is now streaking across the sky. I watch him as he dissipates from veiw. Curious as to what his warning truly meant. Where the land of the dead truly is located.

    As I lay upon the sandy shore of the lake my eyes grow weary. The unconscious darkness creeping slowly into my mind as sleep overcomes me.

  • Dreamine

    I am trying to write a simple love story . but wants some suggestions.

  • kHAN

    LOve it

  • David

    These are good rules to keep in front of you when you are at the grindstone. Thanks

  • Ms. Styles

    You can actually make a story and read stories for free using Wattpad. Try it. It’ll be a practice.

  • flora

    i have difficult time on doing story but i hope this short stories will have good interesting story. my short stories :

    “knock..knock..” the sound of the knock can be heard from upstairs as a figure male hurriedly went down open it ” yes..what is it” he politely said “here’s your package sire..” “ah..thank you have good day” he close the door as he put the package to the table ..

  • Kirsty Tickle

    This is my first story so I’m kind of getting used to things. I’m not sure if this is good and what teens want to read. But here’s what I have so far.

    It’s a dark starry night the moon shines brightly against the blackened sky. The deadly silence so think you could cut it with a knife, suddenly a clang of a sword echoed through the streets of Silverstone followed by a loud ear piercing scream. Following the scream into an alleyway dimly lit by a street light pools of blood painted the floor a rotting body lying in the biggest pool, a young girl curled up on the floor her face covered in blood she looks towards the darkness where her saviour is hiding. “who’s there?” she whispers she then sees a black figure move towards the light it then kneels in front of her she flinches, she hears a soft comforting voice “don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you” the young girl looks up and sees a girl who mustn’t be that much older than her. The older girl holds out her hand and the young girl takes it as she is helped up and taken to safety.

    That was my first ever undead hunt, my family have been hunting the undead that walk among us for generations. The undead are hard to find they look like us, act like us but once night time comes not all of the undead sleep, they kill the innocent and feed on the flesh of their victims. Yes, most people think it is more likely to be vampires that walk among us but they are wrong, most of the undead victims are taken from their homes days before we find their bodies. It is my duty to parole the streets so we can save and return the victims before it’s too late.

    Oh me sorry I was too busy telling you my story that I forgot to tell you who I am. My name is Bonny Osuna daughter of Lord and Lady Osuna, my parents maybe wealthy but they are undead hunters but that is at night, during the day time my farther is CEO of three companies and my mother well she was a model before I came along when I did she decided to become a stay at home mum so she could spend time with me and watch me grow up to the young lady I have now become.

    We are not the only hunter’s there is also the Arrowblight family, I have never gotten along with their son Keenamai, the hot jock at my school every girl wants him well except me I have to work with him. He’s full of himself thinks he’s all that because his farther is the headmaster at our school, so if he sleeps during a class he gets away with it where I don’t. It can be frustrating we could have done the night shift together and I have to grin and bare it while he sleeps, though now I’ve gotten used to it I sleep during breaks and lunch.

    Working with Keenamai can be a pain, he likes to show off I don’t know to whom because we are usually killing the undead and they don’t really care when they are in a middle of a fight. I’m not sure why Keenamai chose to hunt with me I’d rather be on my own I’ve killed a lot more undead alone then working with him, I mean who uses guns as a weapon of choice when melee weapons are so much better and a lot more fun especially the noise of hitting the undead on their head it’s a satisfying sound. Oh and the hunter uniform for me is a bit well useless, I mean heels seriously the boots are nice but flats are easier to run in and my top is basically a corset with a tiny what you’d call jacket to keep my shoulders warm. Who came up with that sure its sexy but I don’t really want to look appealing for something that wants to eat me.

  • Oladipo Gbemisola

    In a magical land of times, there lives a boy who goes by the name Liuta. Liuta was born to a family of ten, he being the youngest child. Ten Christmas after Liuta was born, a prophesied flood wiped out the entire land with Liuta being the only survivor. How did he survive? I don’t know. Two harvests have passed since the flood and here the crops are growing once again. Covering an expanse of a three-day ten oxen ploughing field is a mystical garden of herbs. Within the garden lives a specie of ancient creatures called ‘voolas’. Voolas being so tiny that if they would normally not be noticed by a jolly going fellow. No wonder that none of the wiped out generations knew of their existence. Our Liuta is about to come across them in what would be the end of all his loneliness and the beginning of the fulfilment of his destiny.
    Liuta was out, trying to pick an apple from the garden when he heard a thin voice in the garden, he could hear now probably because the entire land is quiet from human activities. Liuta answered, who is that? Down here, a voola named Ja replied. On looking down, he saw this group of tiny, lizard-like creatures with tiny beautiful smiles on their beautiful faces. ‘Hey guys’, he was bold at them; finally someone who gets it right said Nu, the leader of the voolas who was arrayed in this apparel which seemed to have been made from beautiful flower petals. In our thousand years living here, the reaction of every human we’ve tried to speak to has been annoying to us (by annoying he meant that they reacted in fear). You see, we voolas, we are big on bold, using ‘bold’ as a term. Oh……, ok. I had no choice, I’ve had to survive on my own for the past one year. Yeah, the flood……., we heard, and we are sorry. Well, what now, asked Liuta? Well now you tell us what you want and we will grant the desires of your heart. We have the power to grant human wishes, it is how it’s been since the beginning of time. Well, I’m glad to have someone to talk to finally, can you take me as one of your own? Oh……, then you are welcome dear!!!!! THE END

  • Kaleb Riopel

    Please let me know what you think, but keep in mind this is my first draft of the first two chapters.

    Chapter 1

    “Over here!” Ryan heard his friend yell. Smiling, Ryan walked around the many tables that the inn had to get to the table were both of his friends sat. As Ryan sat down Gregory, the one who yelled, slid a plate of food and handed Ryan a mug of some sort of beverage. “Food here isn’t bad,” Gregory said, “Maybe we should set up shop around here for a bit.” “There isn’t that much work to be done around here,” The second friend of Ryan’s said, “Come on Palama, we could take a week off, relax a bit, and maybe do something fun.” Gregory argued. The priestess wasn’t convinced. “You mean fighting the stone giant wasn’t fun?” she said. “I think Greg is still annoyed that he needed you to heal his head.” Ryan said teasingly. “Hey the only reason I got hit was to cast a spell to push your sorry self out of the thing’s way.” Gregory countered, “And isn’t that what our priestess is for, to heal our little cuts and bruises?” “That was more than just a little cut there Gregory,” Palama said, “You’re lucky I got to you as soon as I did.” “Yah, yah I’m eternally grateful and all that but seriously we should take some time off!” Gregory said.

    Just as Gregory said this a man rushed into the inn looking around frantically. When he saw the three adventures his eyes lit up and he quickly walked over. “I don’t think we’re going to get that time off,” Ryan said as the man walked over. “Sorry to bother you,” the man said, “”But are you the adventurers that everyone is talking about?” “We could be,” Ryan said, “Who are you?” “Harris Barley sir, my village and I really need your help. People have been disappearing over time and we don’t know if they’ve been taken or killed. I’ve heard you were the ones that helped out that town by Malladron, will you help us? We’ll pay you!” The man begged. Ryan looked at the others, Palama nodded her head while Gregory just sighed and said, “I guess so, but we’re totally taking the day off after right?” Ryan chuckled then turned to Harris, “We’ll be happy to help Harris.”

    The next day the three adventures saddled up and left for Harris’s village. “How far is it Harris?” Ryan asked. “About a day’s ride sir,” Harris responded. “Beautiful,” Gregory said sarcastically, “Why can’t these people in distress live closer together?” “This is what you signed up for,” Palama reminded him, “Did you think being a wizard for hire would be all fun and games?” Laughing Ryan spoke up, “Leave him alone Palama, Gregory is happiest when he is complaining.” “It’ll be fun they said,” Gregory muttered, “You’ll get rich fast they said. People will adore you they said.” “Don’t you have some spells to memorize Greg?” Palama asked irritation slightly evident in her voice. “No one cares,” Gregory said but then stopped talking. Ryan sighed contentedly and adjusted his enchanted armor while also fixing the belt that held his enchanted sword. Gregory is whining and Palama is getting annoyed, he thought, life is good.

    The group arrived at the small village, which had twenty to thirty small hut like structures, a day later. They immediately could tell something was wrong when the sounds of a village, children running and yelling, Mothers talking while trying to control their young children, and men working, were nonexistent. “It’s gotten worse,” Harris whispered. “Where is everyone?” Palama asked. “Hiding,” Ryan said grimly. As they rode to the front of the village they heard someone shout out excitedly, “Harris is back!” then suddenly people came running out of the huts to meet the group.

    “Dad, Dad!” A boy, who couldn’t be more than twelve Ryan thought, yelled while running quickly to Harris. “What is it son?” Harris asked concern growing in his voice. “And where is Marilee?” “She’s… she’s missing Dad.” The young boy said almost crying, “She went out to get some berries and she never came back.” “No,” Harris said in despair “When did this happen,” Ryan asked, “Two days ago sir,” The boy said, “Will you find her?” he asked pleading with his eyes, “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.” Ryan replied confidently giving the boy a small smile, “Can you show us where she was last?”

    A few moments later Ryan, Palama, Gregory, and Harris were following Harris’s son, whose name turned out to be Jeffrey. As they followed Jeffrey Gregory whispered to Ryan, “I know I complained about coming here, but now I’m glad we did.” Finally the group reached the field that the villagers went to too collect berries and other plants. “This is it sir,” Jeffrey announced. “What do you plan on doing?” Harris wondered. “Greg, can you do an incantation of the witness?” Ryan asked, “Give me a second,” Gregory responded preparing to begin his spell.

    As Gregory sat cross legged on the floor, head bowed while muttering strange words, Jeffery stared at Gregory. “What’s he doing?” Ryan smiled at the boy, “He’s doing a spell were he can see through the eyes of other people who came here. Hopefully he can find your sister and then we’ll at least know what happened.” The boy’s moth was wide opened. “How long will this take?” Harris asked. “Shouldn’t be long,” Palama answered. Jeffery looked at Ryan and asked, “Can you do that too?” pointing at Gregory. Palama laughed at the young boy’s ignorance. “No Jeffery I don’t have enough talent to do that.” Ryan said grinning, “That’s why I’m a Warrior Mage, I have enough talent to activate the enchantments on my armor and sword but that’s about it.” “Oh,” the boy said disappointed. Not wanting to be out done by Gregory, Ryan responded, “I can still do some pretty cool stuff though… want to see?” Excitement immediately came back into Jeffery’s voice as he responded with an enthused, “Yah!”

    Looking for a good target Ryan noticed a small bush at the edge of the field. “Alright Jeffery watch this,” Ryan said as he pointed his sword at the bush. Focusing on the enchantment of his blade and pushing with his will, he fired a small spark of electricity, which immediately destroyed the bush. “Wow!” was Jeffery’s response as he looked at the remains of the bush. “Yes that poor plant never stood a chance,” Palama said sarcastically. Ryan winked at Jeffery, “Palama here doesn’t like it when I use my stuff to show off.” Suddenly Gregory’s head snapped up and he looked at Ryan, “This will be a problem.”

    “What is it Greg?” Ryan asked concerned. “I found the girl,” Gregory said, “But as I followed her in my mind I suddenly felt,” Gregory paused as if searching for a word, “Cold. Whoever or whatever is doing this… it isn’t normal.” “Do you know where they went?” Ryan asked. Gregory pointed into the woods that stood beyond the field, “There.” “Okay, Mr. Barley I’m going to ask you to bring your son back to the village while we handle this.” “Sorry Sir, but I’m coming with you,” Harris said, “This thing took my daughter and I want to help get her back.” “I understand that,” Ryan replied, “But whatever is doing this isn’t a normal being, and you’re not trained to fight this. We are. Plus, you also have a son to look after and I’m sure you don’t want him walking back to the village by himself.” Ryan finished. Shoulders slumped Harris said, “Fine but you get my daughter back.” Ryan nodded solemnly, “We will.”

    Chapter 2

    “Well we better start moving before it gets dark,” Palama said impatiently. Taking the hint Harris took Jeffery’s hand. “Come on son let’s go home.” When Harris and Jeffery were out of earshot Ryan looked at Gregory, “What do you think it is?” “I don’t know for sure,” Gregory responded. “But you have an idea?” Palama said. “It… could be a sorcerer,” Gregory said. “Nonsense they don’t exist anymore,” Palama said. “You didn’t feel what I felt!” Gregory said indigently. “Well whatever it is we’ll find out soon.” Ryan said which cause both Gregory and Palama to fall silent. “Let’s go” Ryan said then walked into the woods.

    “I have a bad feeling about this,” Gregory whispered as the group walked through the woods. “I think I found something!” Palama called. Ryan and Gregory walked over to where Palama stood, “Figures,” Gregory said, “Why is it always the dark spooky caves.” In front of the group was a large cave that seemed to go deep underground. “Well we better check it out, I’ll take point with Greg Palama back us up.” “You know Palama if you want to be in the front this time I don’t mind,” Gregory started to say but stopped when Palama gave him a cold stare. “Never mind,” he muttered.

    “There is defiantly something wrong here,” Gregory said as the group kept walking down into the cave. “Can you feel that Palama?” Ryan looked at the wizard confused, “Feel what?” “He means the well of magic that we are over,” Palama said, “It’s definitely strong but feels… wrong? That’s probably why the runes on your armor aren’t lit up Ryan.” She finished. “It almost feels… corrupted? “Gregory said confused. “Look out!” Palama yelled!

    A creature, seemingly leapt out of the wall, attacked Gregory! “What in the world!” Gregory exclaimed as Ryan drew his sword and swiped at the assailant, but his sword just glanced off the creatures hide! The thing then tackled Ryan trying to pin him to the floor! “Get it off!” Ryan yelled struggling against the might of the creature. “Gregory hold the thing back.” Palama commanded as Gregory lifted the creature off Ryan with magic. Yelling strange words she put her hand on the creatures chest! The creature began to glow and it stopped moving so Gregory stopped muttering his spell, head drooped tiredly. The trio watched as the thin, which appeared to be made out of stone, slowly shrunk and lost its stone looking skin. When it stopped changing it looked… human!

    “What the heck just happened?” Ryan asked. “That anti curse only works on one thing,” Palama said looking at Ryan worriedly, “Black Magic.” Ryan’s eyes grew large, “But that means,” he started, only to be interrupted by Gregory, “Sorcerers are known for experimenting with different curses on live subjects, or at least that’s what was documented in the Halls of Lore back in Malladron.” “We need to hurry,” Ryan said finding courage, “We came here to rescue people and that’s what we’re going to do.” He finished confidently. Palama and Gregory looked at each other uneasily, but followed Ryan as he began walking deeper into the cave.

    • Kaleb Riopel

      Please Read!

  • Sami

    It was a confusing season for Rumando. Rumando, a soldier fighting against the Evil Imperial Army, was once with the Modern Day Knights Group. During those times this group was growing due to their increasing fame and as a result they had more soldiers signing up with them. Rumando joined this group due to a friend’s invitation, and became stronger as he went on training under this group for two years. Although he enjoyed the privilege of being with the group, he noticed at some point the entire group has become complacent in their preparations for the war with the Evil Imperial Army. He also at some point found out that there has been a plot made by some in the group that were allowing spies from the opposing army in exchange for some few golds and silvers. Upon finding out the news, Rumando immediately called upon a meeting together with his senior commander Esquierdo. Rumando said, “Brothers, there is a compromise going on recently with the group.” Esquierdo replied, “What is this news you have, Rumando?”, “Some among the Knights are allowing enemy spies to be in our midst, in exchange for a bribe”, Rumando said. Some suddenly shouted, “How can you be so sure? Can you name them? Who else are the witnesses?”. While the rest of the Knights were shouting aloud at Rumando, Esquierdo quieted everyone in the meeting and said, “Rumando, as much as I want to heed to you what you just revealed. Unless you can show us some other witness and evidence regarding this, for now we have nothing to worry. I will have to dismiss that as a rumor, we don’t want an uproar in our group for now.”. Although Rumando may feel dismissed after the said meeting, he still went on investigating regarding the matter. The next day, Raul, his sidekick, told Rumando, “Hey, I’ve been noticing something, specially with Commander Esquierdo”. “What is it, buddy?”, asked Rumando. “I’ve been seeing some unusual faces, and yesterday I just spotted the Commander with some few of the Knights in a dark alley, and they were conversing with these two others who seem to be not part of the group.” Rumando looked intently at Raul and asked, “What else did they do that you saw during that time?” Raul said, “You know, I saw the Commander handing over a bag of golds to these unknown men.” Rumando said, “Could it be that they are spies from the Evil Imperial Army? Do you think the commander is part of the conspiracy?”. Raul asked, “Is this regarding what you told the other day? Well, I can’t help but think that there is indeed a compromise going on. So what are we going to do?”. “Well, I am really not into compromising. We’d better leave the group.” Rumando said. Raul replied, “But where will we go? And I’m afraid others might consider us a traitor.” Rumando immediately said, “Well, that’s a hard thing to think over given the fact that we grew up here, this was where I became a mature knight. Although I already have a group in mind that we can transfer to.”. “You mean to the Reformers? Well, they are great but they’re small in numbers compared to the Modern Day Knights, we cannot outlast the Evil Imperial Army with just that.” Raul said. Then Rumando replied, “Well, compromising is beyond my vocabulary. I’d rather stay with a small group rather than be in this large group being infiltrated by the enemy.”. The following week Rumando and his sidekick would leave the Modern Day Knight’s group without formality, traveled immediately to Central Rada, where the Reformers reside. As they arrive, they would immediately be welcomed by the knights, and would soon after allow the two of them to be part of the group. One of the Reformers knew that Rumando was part of the Modern Day Knights, and said, “Sir, what happened? Why did you leave the Modern Day Knights?”. Rumando reiterated what was going within the group, how the group was compromising and allowing spies from the opposing army. “You are welcome to join and fight with us, Rumando.”, said the Chief Commander of the Reformers, Makata. “But you will have to properly deal with what you have to deal over with the Modern Day Knights, or else it’d be a lot of trouble, and it might take a toll on us. Besides, we will be training you to become a better knight, so make sure you will stay with us and commit with us.” continued Makata. “I am aware of that, and I promise to stay here and will never go back to the Modern Day Knights. All I need now is the right time to formally talk with them regarding my leave.” said Rumando. When the Modern Day Knights found out that both Rumando and Raul have left the group, they set a plot against them alongside with the Evil Imperial Army. So one day when there was a clash between the Reformers and the Evil Imperial Army, Rumando upon fighting an opponent, was ambushed by some from the Modern Day Knights. “You traitor! You’re gonna die!” shouted one of them. Eventually Rumando was stabbed, and killed by his former groupmates from the Modern Day Knights Group. Raul, upon finding out the news, vowed to take revenge and avenge Rumando’s death. He committed to train under the Reformers, and promised that he will take his partner’s wish of prevailing eventually over the Evil Imperial Army, and also to deal with the Modern Day Knights.

  • Megan Brown-LaCarte

    Hi! Working on an intense scene in which my main character has a flashback of a sexual assault while she is with a new partner, and would appreciate any feedback! Warning, it may be a little graphic and/or upsetting. Thank you in advance

    And suddenly it isn’t Ethan’s hands I feel on me, but someone else’s. Someone older, angrier, hands in all the wrong places. I look down and see that those hands are covered in blood that’s pouring out of his abdomen, and smearing all over my small body and I start to scream, shattering my vision, bringing me thundering back to the real world where the hands I’ve thrown off my body are Ethan’s and the eyes that look down at me aren’t hungry but frightened and concerned, looking into my streaming ones…
    And so, between sobs, I tell him what happened. I tell him about how when I was eight a man came to my bedroom and put his hands on me, and how it happened more times than I can remember. I tell him how that man was at the time married to my mother, who had no idea and how scared I was of what would happen if I said anything so I didn’t. About how when I was fifteen I finally worked up the courage to tell my mom what happened and about the horrible guilt I felt about letting her be married to him for that long and then taking away the second income that kept us in the house we lived in. About being terrified of seeing him in public, and how one time I did see him in the grocery store and tried to leave without him seeing me but couldn’t and he did anyways and the look of seething hate I saw in his eyes that made me cower. About how a week after that I was home alone and there was a knock on my door and when I answered it I desperately wished I had pretended not to be home because it was him on my front porch, that hate still in his eyes, only this time he was not in public, where no one knew his secret. This time he could do something about the girl that talked and ruined his marriage.
    I told him about being thrown against the wall and punched until my eyes were swollen so I could barely see, and how I was thrown to the floor, my head swimming so much I was barely able to move as I watched him close the curtains and tear off my pants to force himself inside me. About his fist shoved in my mouth so my jaw screamed with pain and I tried to scream around it but knew it was hopeless, and after he finished inside me he left me on the floor and poured himself a drink. About how I pulled myself up as quietly as I could and picked up the knife that I’d be cutting vegetables with and waited until he sat back down beside me to tell me I deserved it for what I had done, and how I’d stabbed him in the stomach once and he dropped his drink with a shocked look on his face. About how I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing it again. And again. And again until I was in a pool of blood that had started out as just my own and soaked through my remaining clothing. About how empty my revenge felt and how I called Char’s mom and her and her husband came to clean up the mess and cover it up for me. About how I couldn’t go to a hospital because I’d be a suspect then if anyone found out he was dead. About Char’s dad stitching up my face in their kitchen and how I told my mom I was on a school trip while staying there for a week before working up the courage to face my house again. About the abortion I had a month later when I found out I was pregnant.

  • Jairah Cruz

    Thanks a lot for the tips you’ve provided. Actually, I’m really looking for this and finally I already found it. Because I have done or written stories. But every time I read it I lost my focus on continuing it because I think my readers will love what I write. But now, because of the tips you’ve made, I became more determined and challenged to write more stories. From now on, I will never think about what my readers will say about my story. I’l just accept their comments and opinions. I’ll just write and write and write until I achieve my goal. Thank you so much,again! You also made me even better.

  • happydays

    Hi I am new so just started this and was wondering whether this is okay?

    Do you ever feel like you could be part of that group? That for once you could be an insider with a great friend or any friend at all? Well, I do. I wish that I could walk down my street, head held high and arms linked with my best friend, smiling because I love who or what I am instead of taking shortcuts and alleyways to hide from the trauma, avoiding those dark eyes and evil glare. I wish that I could be happy at school with no one, not even words to hurt me; they do. But even with all that I wish that one day I will be able to escape this awful life that I have been put in since I was seven. Since, I became an orphan for the first and last time and since the day that my parents didn’t come home. You know, I have never cried after that day. The day when it felt that my heart had been torn out and I didn’t know who I was.

    I looked up at the mirror, seeing a face that I hardly recognised because there, staring at me were vacant blue eyes, a hooded pale face with sharp features and brunette hair draped around delicate shoulders.Some people would say I was attractive, pretty but all I saw was someone on the run.I tell myself the facts: I’m eighteen years old, I am an only child, my name is Layla…… and my best friend now wants me dead! I sink to the floor.The floor is a harsh colour, cold under my touch and yet I feel safe for the first time in days just sitting there almost as if my life is the floor; hard, endless, dark.
    “What do I do,” I say in a whisper, knowing I have nowhere to go. Quickly, I stand up with a new resolve in my step, hoping… no knowing that I will be fine.
    “Everything will be fine, of course I’ll be fine.” I say, severing the stillness in half. All of a sudden there is noise of the trains, people speaking loudly – too loudly. I open the toilet door, letting the sights and sounds engulf me as step into the busy train station.

    Pulling my hood over to cover my face I walk stealthily but confidently through the station, trying to blend in with the crowds.
    “Two policemen to the right, a warden four steps behind, Jubilee Line clear and straight ahead,” is all I think as I walk onto the platform. My heartbeat quickens and starts to beat irregularly as I get closer to the platform and my haven; Closer, Closer and I’m there. I take in a deep breath of the fumes of sweat and humidity just before I jump onto the tube and settle on my seat.
    “Mind the gap,” the speaker announces.
    “I haven’t been spotted,” I think.

    Then the guy gets on.

  • Sebastian Halifax

    Okay here goes:

    (no title yet)

    The hunt was on.
    Siegen let out a whoop as he and his friends ran through the forest, the hounds ahead of them. A deer had been spotted, a large one at that, and the zealous hunters threw themselves fully into the chase.
    The deer disappeared into the trees. Before they could pursue, an eerie screech rang out, followed by the deer’s dying cries. The hunters paused, unsure whether to proceed. Even the hounds appeared terrified of whatever lurked ahead.
    Moments later, a terrifing creature emerged from the trees. Beating its wings, it swooped toward the terrified hunters. All courage lost, they fled before it. One did not make it far before the creature caught him in its talons, rendering him immobile in its grip. His screams of terror added speed to the others’ feet.
    Siegen ran blindly through the forest, not caring where his feet took him. Emerging from the thicket, he tumbled into a swamp. Coughing up the murky water, the prince drew his bow and nocked an arrow, expecting the monster to appear. After several moments he concluded he was safe, and turned his attention towards his surroundings.
    A swan paddling in the center of the swamp caught his eye. Seems this hunt won’t be in vain after all, he thought, already aiming his bow at the bird, ready to send the arrow flying.
    What happened next rendered him speechless.
    The moonlight illuminating the swan appeared to intensify, until all Siegen could see was the swan’s form, which began to morph before his eyes. When it was over, in place of the majestic bird stood a maiden, the fairest he had ever laid eyes on. The golden hair cascading down her back glistened in the moonlight, appearing white as the swan’s feathers. Her eyes were deep green pools of beauty.
    Surely my eyes decieve me, the thought emerged in Siegen’s mind. Rubbing his eyes, he saw this was no hallucination.
    Suddenly a great wind began to blow. The maiden turned at the sound, then looked at the prince with fear in her eyes. “He’s coming!”
    The prince drew his bow, his eyes searching for the intruder.
    “You can’t fight him. Leave now!” she insisted.
    The wind’s strength intensified, and Siegen found himself lifted off the ground and flung through the forest. Tree branches snapped in his wake, until he landed in a clearing near the edge of the forest.
    Meanwhile, alarmed by the harrowing tale of his friends who survived, a search party was dispatched to find the prince. So it was that they found him, battered but alive. They brought him home to recuperate.
    The mysterious maiden was always in his thoughts as he lay recovering from the ordeal. I will return to the forest to see her again, he vowed, and discover what is holding her there.
    At last the day came when his recovery was complete. That night he took a horse and rode out to the forest. He brought a full quiver of arrows with him, as well as a sword should he meet any foe.
    Tying his horse to a nearby tree, the prince continued on foot, his senses alert to any sign of danger.
    “Turn back, prince.”
    Siegen drew his sword as he turned in the direction of the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows, his features concealed by his cloak and hood. He leaned upon an oaken staff.
    “Who are you? Are you the one holding her captive?” he asked warily.
    “You know not who she truly is, else you wouldn’t be so eager to set her free,” the stranger replied, “Leave now and return home, for your sake, and your kingdom’s sake.”
    But the prince would not listen. “I will find the truth of this matter myself. Stand aside, stranger, or taste my steel.”
    “I implore you, hear me…” the stranger began, but Siegen was already charging, bringing his blade in a downward blow. Lifting his staff, the stranger deflected the blow, than swung with the lower end, catching the prince in his face. He fell, but quickly regained his footing.
    “Deal with him.”
    Siegen turned, but he was too late. The beast snatched him in its talons and carried him`up through the trees. Looking up , he realised this was the horror he and his friends had encountered that fateful day.
    He felt its talons release him, and the plummet to his demise. Branches scratched at his face as he hurtled towards the ground.
    A large branch caught his eye, and he grabbed onto it with all his strength. An eerie shriek alerted him that the beast was near. Spying another branch below him, Siegen let go and dropped down to it, the monster missing him by a thread. From that branch he landed safely on the ground.
    The prince quickly sought his options. His sword had fallen from his grasp in the descent, but he still had his bow. Reaching into his quiver, he discovered only one arrow remained.
    The creature swooped down towards him. Siegen rolled out of the way, then nocked an arrow and took aim. He let fly, and the arrow struck the creature, but did not pierce its hide.
    Deciding that he could not win against this beast, the prince ran through the forest in a bid to escape. By providence he stumbled upon a root, upturned during his previous flight. He retraced his path and soon found the swamp.
    A sudden rush of air behind drew him to dive into the murky water. The creature emerged from the undergrowth, scouring the area for him. Finding nothing, it flew off into the night.
    Siegen drew deep breaths as he surfaced. Seeing the creature was gone, he relaxed.
    A hand lighted on his arm. He looked up to see the maiden, her eyes brimming with joy.
    After several moments the prince asked her the questions that had filled his mind since their first encounter.
    She answered soberly, “My name is Ilana, and I am a princess. I was cursed to be a swan by day, and only in the evening by the waters of this swamp can I return to human form.
    Siegen described his encounter with the sorcerer, and Ilana shivered with fear. “He comes at midnight, to strengthen the wards that empower the spell, and his pet beast leers at me.” She buried her face in Siegen’s chest, sobbing.
    The prince reassured her that he would do all in his power to free her. Ilana thanked him, gratitude in her eyes. “Before you go,” she said, removing a pendant from around her neck, “take this, as a token of my affection. Wear it always, to remember me by.”
    “I shall cherish it more than life itself.” replied Siegen. “I will meet you here the next evening.” She smiled. “I will be waiting.”
    Moments after he left, the hour of midnight rose, and Ilana felt the familiar tingling as her body began the familiar transformation to the swan’s form.
    Shortly thereafter the sorcerer appeared. He scoured the swamp for several moments, than advanced towards her. “He was here, wasn’t he?”
    She ignored him, paddling to the farthest bank of the swamp.
    The young fool has no clue what he would unleash upon this land. he pondered. I must find a way to turn his passion.
    The sorcerer returned to his home, a hovel concealed by the forest itself. Upon entering, he was greeted by his daughter, who was listening intently to the chirping of a sparrow. When the bird finished, it flew off into the dawn, and she turned her attention to her father.
    “She appears to have found herself a consort,” he began. “If he becomes infatuated with her, the fool will strive to free her. If he succeeds, who knows what terror will befall the people at her hands.”
    “Why not simply end the fool?” she asked.
    “Because he is the prince, beloved by all in the kingdom and heir to the throne. And he is not the true enemy.”
    “But enough of that,” he continued, “what news have you?” referring to her earlier conversation with the bird.
    “In three days, they will host a grand ball in the prince’s honor,” she stated, “in hopes of finding a suitable bride for him.”
    “Then our problem is solved.” her father sighed.
    “But if, as you say, he only has eyes for her,” she continued, “he will ignore all others.”
    A moment passed before an idea formed in his mind. “Show me your best impression of her.”
    The plain forest-green dress adorned with leaves was replaced by a shimmering gown of emerald hue. Her dark chestnut hair became a golden torrent cascading down her slender back. She waited for his appraisal.
    “Impressive.” he remarked.
    “So what is the plan?” she asked.
    “You will attend the ball in her guise. The fool will fall for you, and forever forget about her. You’ve been longing to leave the forest for some time, and this will be your opportunity.”
    The prince visited Ilana whenever he could, and with each visit his love for her grew stronger. Each morning he longed to see her face, each afternoon hear her soft laughter.
    At last the evening of the ball drew near. Princesses from all over the realm arrived, each hoping they would be chosen to wed the prince.
    When the time came, each presented themselves before him, but Siegen took no interest in them…save one.
    His eyes lit up as he gazed upon her. With each step she took towards him his heart beat faster and faster. He had not dared to hope she would come, yet here she was, her visage outshining all others in the hall.
    Yet something was amiss.
    The pendant Siegen wore began to glow. Before his eyes the visage of Ilana changed, and he saw it was not her. The thought of her beauty being used by this impostor filled him with rage. All other thoughts were overshadowed by the burning anger within him.
    Snatching a sword from one of the guards, he charged at her. Caught off guard, she had no chance to defend herself before the blade sank into her chest. A look of horror spread across her face, and in the throes of death her true form was revealed. All in attendance stood transfixed at this turn of events.
    Before anyone could stop him, Siegen fled the ballroom. At the stables he gathered the weapons he had hidden there, and mounting his horse, he rode to the woods.
    Tying his horse to a tree at the forest edge, the prince checked his weapons: a sword made for him by the finest smith in the kingdom, an ornate dagger, and a bow and full quiver of arrows. After equiping himself, he continued his journey on foot.
    He had not gone far when the eerily familiar screech reached his ears. Drawing his bow, Siegen advanced cautiously.
    Without warning the creature swooped down on the prince, pinning him to the ground with its talons. It hissed in his face, baring its fangs ready to sink into him.
    As the creature lunged for his throat, Siegen, having drawn his dagger with his free hand, raised it to meet the approaching fangs. The blade dug into the creature’s mouth, and the prince twisted it, severing the first fang. He continued dragging it through the soft flesh, until he had removed the next fang.
    The beast shrieked in pain, and Siegen, seizing the moment, withdrew the blade and plunged it into the creature’s left eye, implanting it deep in its skull.
    Lifeless, the creature’s limp carcass fell on him. He finally managed to extract himself, albeit with several nasty scars from the grip of its talons.
    Retrieving his weapons, the prince continued toward the swamp.
    Upon rediscovering the familiar trail, Siegen broke into a run, his heart and mind intent on reuniting with his love and ending the curse that afflicted her.
    The unexpected blow to his face flung him to the ground. Rising to his feet, he beheld the sorcerer standing before him, grief and rage upon his face.
    “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” the sorcerer said bitterly,”And now you’ve murdered my daughter. So be it. The kingdom will mourn you, but it is preferable to the doom you would unleash upon it.”
    Drawing his sword, the prince lunged at him, only to have the blow deflected by the staff. The sorcerer swung his staff towards Siegen’s belly. He blocked it, then raised his sword in a downward chop, intending to cleave the other’s skull in two.
    Dodging the blow, the wizard threw a vial at Siegen, who raised his arms to protect his face. The vial shattered on impact, and a strange mist rose from the fragments. Faster than any ordinary mist, it spread across the area, obscuring the prince’s vision. He braced himself for another attack.
    Taking advantage of the prince’s dilemma, the sorcerer began to cast a spell. The night breeze blowing through the forest intensified, becoming a great wind that threatened to blow Siegen away like a hapless leaf.
    The pendant around Siegen’s neck bean to glow once again. As the sorcerer cast, it absorbed the spell’s power, as well as the mist that blinded the prince. Stunned as he was by this turn of events, the sorcerer prepared another spell.
    Before he could cast it, Siegen drew his bow. Notching an arrow, he aimed it and let fly. The arrow flew towards the sorcerer, who had no time to defend himself. It plunged into his heart, the power from the interrupted spell exploding up through the trees into the sky.
    Following the trail of broken branches, the prince came upon his corpse, lying next to the edge of the swamp. His body was twisted at impossible angles, grief and remorse filling his face.
    Turning his back on the broken body, Siegen looked for his love. He found her running towards him, joy shining in her eyes. He embraced her and held her tightly, tears of joy running down his face.
    “Promise me you will love me forever.” Ilana said, her eyes misty. “With all my heart.” Siegen replied. “Swear it.” she implored him. “I swear upon my life, I will love you for all time.” he said.
    The spell unraveling, the moonlight intensified, shrouding her from the prince’s sight. Slowly the transformation began, first revealing the outlins of a swan, and then reverting back to Ilana’s true form.
    Laughter sprang from her lips, sending a chill down Siegen’s spine. She advanced toward the prince, who, while stunned at this turn of events, could not take his eyes off her.
    “At last I am free of that meddling conjurer. And I have you to thank, boy.” Her words were as the sweetest music to his ears.
    “Kneel.” The command burned deep into his mind, and his body followed suit. She ran her cold, ivory hands down his cheek, then reached out and took hold of the pendant. “You won’t need this anymore.” she said. As the pendant floated above her hand, she clenched her fist, and it shattered into a tiny mist that flowed into her body. A shudder ran through her as her power returned.
    “I’m going to have so much fun with you. But later.” she smirked. “Come now, I have a kingdom to reclaim.”
    Returning to the castle through a secret entrance, the queen began her plan. Brewing a special potion, she had copious amounts placed in wine casks and sent to the barracks as gifts. All who drank became ensorcelled to her will. Any noble who opposed her was excecuted along with their families, their lands seized by the crown.
    Siegen became her favorite pet, and endured many indignities at her pleasure. Forever enthralled by her, he remained oblivious to his suffering.
    The queen maintained an iron rule over the kingdom. Her subjects lived in fear of her wrath. It was truly a dark age for them.

    The End


    can we create our own historical war while writing a story ?

  • The Pantsu Warrior

    Uh, don’t know what to say but here is my story

    Name: (n/a)

    by Newb Writer


    My past, my future, and my everything. It was of none of concern. My memories seem to drift away somewhere far beyond my reach. These hands of mine are stained with blood. I grasp my sword tightly as it was splattered with deep crimson red by those whom have fallen by my very hands. My armor sullied from the blood stains. I continue to live amongst the living. For that, I have always doubted my existence. As I walk off into distance, I do not bother to question why I am walking towards the edge of a cliff. I look around not knowing where I am. The dark night sky above me was illuminated by the hundreds and thousands, or maybe even the millions of stars. From the starry night sky, I felt a sense of emptiness. I look into the void and imagined all the endless amount of possibilities, the defeats and failures of all those who have ever existed. Before I realized, a house suddenly appeared without any trace of my awareness. A dark shiver travels down my back. I walked closer to the patio and look at it from top to bottom. This home has an avant-garde feeling. It appeared from nothingness, yet, here it stands before me. The sight of this was breathtaking. However, as I peered closer to the enigma, it was too much of a mystery as to why it was here. The marble columns made the home seem it had authority. While the hard polished wood gave it a sense of comfort. I walked up the stairs and with each step the wooden panels creaked. I stopped right in front of the door. I knocked a couple of times and no answer. I knocked once more and there was still no response. I went for the knob and turned it. The door opened and I went inside. I walked inside and by the fireplace sat a woman. She was extremely old by the look of her wrinkled hands. She had been spinning threads and cutting it. Possibly long before I arrived. She turned towards me with foggy gray eyes and stared right at my very soul. She began to speak.

    “Dear, oh dear, well? Look at you, you’re in tatters my boy.” Her coarse elderly voice reverberated throughout my body.“Oh ho ho ho ho ho! Won’t you be so kind as to take off that hood? I must commend you for being able to reach this place.” She pointed at my clothes. I didn’t hesitate for a moment and took it off. Her expression turned grim and she stopped weaving the thread. “I see…are you from around here lad? No how could you be? Your eyes tell me everything. The mark you bear upon yourself is simply……” her voice trailed off “ You’re cursed. Did you know that? But….” she giggles giddily. “How many times must I see the same poor soul bear this horrendous curse?! You have never lead a normal life before, is that right?” She paused to think for a moment. She then continued “Suffering time and time again. The pain that comes from losing your loved ones. And the agony that befalls you after. Despair rules over your life. I’ve seen this. The future, the past, and the present. Your soul wanders.”

    Her foggy eyes looked elsewhere and then back at me. “Who from the Great Eight Tenkai cursed you?! A fate, far worse than death! Not even I can intervene! My sisters and I are one, but our power is little to none! Compared to ‘The Tenkai’ that is.” She looked at me with a devilish and foreboding smile. “Iyahahahahahaha, oh dear what a trifle this is! My skin feels tingly from the thought of a brand new chapter- no a brand new story of the life of a ‘hero’. I shall see what awaits ahead. Not even I can predict your fate. Such a thing I have never experienced before. Yet thou has never failed to please me!” Excitement filled her coarse voice, and her foggy eyes began to clear up. “ I’m not quite sure why you are blighted, but listen very carefully, you will have another arduous journey. For if your life will begin to fall from there. I will take pleasure in your misery. That much is a certainty. But over the millennia I have seen why he cursed you. Unpredictability, and luck. Break free from the curse. When the ordeal falls over, may your soul finally find peace.” As the lights dimmed around me. I can only hear the snickers of that old hag. Before I knew it my mind went blank. However,in the final moments her words were stuck in my mind, and I lost all consciousness.

  • Losingtheplot

    Hi my story is on Wattpad @losingtheplot ‘The War Game’

  • Allison

    Yea.. You said we don’t have to write well. Just write and that’s what I’m going to do… Because I don’t write well…

  • The Cyan-sinity

    I wrote a story, gonna post it. I am 10 by the way. So…..

    A Day in the Life of the Samurai.

    It was an ordinary day — in the life of the samurai, that is. Samurai and heir to the Hagi residential, Kento Kadesheke, was engaged in a duel with his well recognized, self esteemed master.

    “Dodge,” commanded his brain as he curled into a ball and escaped a fatal blow by what marked his people, the sword. Then he leapt up and swished his sword here and there, in defence. Next, he went all-out in a sword batting contest with his master. This gave his time to regain his breath. Now, as many know, the more experienced mostly comes on top, so was the case here. Tired and impatient, Kento tried to disarm his master and opponent. His master expected it and dodged it, not so long before launching a barrage of sword hits, disarming Kento.

    Per the rules, disarms end battles, so Kento bowed and fetched his sword. He asked “What did I do wrong, milord,” His master smiled and gently said ” Nothing but thou were a bit impatient,” he added “I can see quick and great improvement,” Now all of this was said in Japanese, but I daren’t mention in imagined sesquipedalophobia

  • Nicole

    Some say that life is only cruel to the people who truly deserve it. The story I am about to tell may alter that thought entirely. She was an average girl with no specialty to her, she would go unnoticed as most teenage girls would who others considered dull or bland. Now without a backstory there really is no story so I will take you to the where it all started, to where she started. Without giving too much away let’s call this girl Shayna. Shayna was born and raised in a little town in Tennessee with two other siblings, a younger brother and an older sister. With being a middle child came the lack of attention and affection of her family. The minor downfalls of being the middle child never affected her. No matter what she went through she would always turn out being the happiest little girl in the world up until age seven. Life abruptly began going downhill for the happy little girl everyone knew, as everyone saw her change with the events occurring in her life, they would continuously inform her that it was temporary, things would get better, and life is only cruel to people who deserve it. Shayna with the little spark of hope she had from others words continued to believe that things would get better and tried to stay the happy little girl she was known to be. Things didn’t look up as time kept passing. The little girl kept losing things and everywhere she turned she would only feel pain in the process. Shayna lost half of herself in March of 2006 that she never really gained back as she grew and years past. She was left feeling agonizing pain from then on until present day when she realized that from all the things she had gone through she was made to feel discreetly numb. With each year she encountered, she faced another issue. With issues piling up she felt no other choice but to make unnecessary decisions to try and make things better for her. Dealing with a loss of herself and someone else became heavily haunting with every decision and with every problem that arose. Everything made Shayna think back to that one particular event that changed her completely. Home life never made things easier for Shayna as home should have been a safe haven or a getaway from life’s massive curveballs.

  • In

    A Day in the Life of the Samurai.

    It was an ordinary day — in the life of the samurai, that is. Samurai and heir to the Hagi residential, Kento Kadesheke, was engaged in a duel with his well recognized, self esteemed master.

    “Dodge,” commanded his brain as he curled into a ball and escaped a fatal blow by what marked his people, the sword. Then he leapt up and swished his sword here and there, in defence. Next, he went all-out in a sword batting contest with his master. This gave his time to regain his breath. Now, as many know, the more experienced mostly comes on top, so was the case here. Tired and impatient, Kento tried to disarm his master and opponent. His master expected it and dodged it, not so long before launching a barrage of sword hits, disarming Kento.

    Per the rules, disarms end battles, so Kento bowed and fetched his sword. He asked “What did I do wrong, milord,” His master smiled and gently said ” Nothing but thou were a bit impatient,” he added “I can see quick and great improvement,” Now all of this was said in Japanese, but I daren’t mention in imagined sesquipedalophobia

  • Rlly?

    sinse avreyone uces gramer il jst b a crwel basterd…

    • LilianGardner

      How long did it take you to compose this sentence?
      Howe longh did it taek U two compoos dis sentance?

  • burger

    this is useless
    I hate everyone go die in a hole and go kill your self

  • ghosteez

    I’d appriciate some advice for this piece I wrote (if anyone recognizes the character from FMA, then yes, it’s a fanfiction. It’s already been posted but some advice would be lovely!)
    (lol it’s a bit long…)

    Roy Mustang was a sophisticated man in the prime of his life.

    You could tell just by looking at him; his piercing eyes were hued a deep black, the colour appearing cold and heartless to anyone who didn’t know better. Slender brows usually furrowed in a fierce manner, the Colonel could be recognized as a man who can be shallow and self-absorbed, infamous among many of his colleagues and subordinates alike for the selfish and narcissistic aura he gives off. The look he possessed, with a clean-shaven baby-face visage and raven locks that fell over his optics in an unkempt style, gave him an almost dangerous demeanor – the atmosphere he gave off could startle even the toughest of soldiers on an often occasion.

    But those who could understand him personally knew better then to think of Roy as a man with no emotional values or morals, for he had many more then most. Colonel Mustang is one to act in an ostentatious manner and appears to act mostly out of self-interest rather than any sort of philanthropy. He comes off to most as a sort of cocky layabout, shirking most of his duties and delegating his paperwork to subordinates while sitting idly at his desk with an amused smile on his face as he procrastinates, but is quick to take action when it appears that there is glory and military notoriety to be gained.

    He could be expertly manipulative and own a mind of high intelligence, infamously prone to think several steps ahead of everybody else, gifting him with a remarkable talent for making subordinates act exactly as he wishes despite appearing not to have had a hand in their decisions – all traits which make the fact that he has managed to attain the lofty rank of colonel at such a young age a matter of public gossip.

    The living suit of armor sat and watched the Colonol idly, a leather hand laying across his squared chin in a thoughtful sort of manner. In the rounded dips where one’s eyes would be sat two glowing crimson orbs, acting as optics for the hollow steel being, which sparked with a sense of boredom as he looked on. They watched as Roy stretched behind his desk, a rather familiar grin on his face – it was blandly obvious he was procrastinating from the tilt of the smirk and the glimmer in his once-heartless eyes that told his emotion.

    The paperwork on the desk seemed to glare up at the man, but he took no notice of the matter – instead his gaze circled everywhere but where it was supposed to be. Sighing as he realized that the Colonel wasn’t going to get anything done, the armor could only give a mental facepalm – how could such a lazy nutjob get such a high rank when he did little to no work, apart from when an even higher rank was in the room? It still lingered in his mind to this day.

    “Colonel,” the suit of armor called out. The man’s gaze fell upon him, his mouth softening into an expression of realization, as if he suddenly remembered that someone else was in his office. Seeing as Roy was listening, the metal being began once more. “Colonel, what did you call me in for?” he inquired, his voice ringing and the steel vibrating with a faint ‘ping.’ The short silence that followed the innocent question was tense, though both kept a genuine atmosphere around them; the armor dimming the glow in his eyes, the living man radiating kindness through his seemingly-gentle expression.

  • catherine watt

    hi, this is what I’m writing at the moment, and I would love to have some feedback to know if it’s good or bad quality. thanks.

    As a kid we’ re all told stories of strange and very different realms that are blocked by magic barriers connecting them all into one single realm, the Ajikou realm. said to be the most strange and weird one of them all, where humans, mythical beasts, warlords, witches, dragons and even legendary warriors only described in fairy-tales live. but that realm is just a folk tale told to scare children before they went to be; even the the thought of no magic being used throughout a realm scares them. to this day children from my realm, the Darijiui realm, go to school to learn magic from a young age, 5. that’s when everyone starts off, everyone but the misfortunate and the poor. born into a poor family, we need to learn magic from a younger age to protect ourselves from thieves, wanting to take kids to sacrifice to demon chiefs or lords. they disguise themselves as people from the village their in and trick kids, my mother tells me that I have a gift. Because a long time ago a thief came disguised as my father, only I could see that it was not my father, only I could see through the disguise to see them for who they truly were. on that day I saved not only myself but everyone in my family, all except my sister who he took as a hostage and threatened. she was three years old, and nothing could be done to get her back.
    Dawn breaks over the horizon, a vibrant orange fills the sky. birds hum and sing in sync while changing their colour to different shades of grey and light orange.
    In the middle of the open dune field I stand staring at Taniko, a boy roughly the same age as me seventeen years. pale blond hair slightly covers his left eye and a light covering of freckles just under his alluring blue eyes. not paying attention to anything around me I get hit with a blast of magic energy breaking my daydream and sending me flying back and buried up to my chest in sand. ” what did i tell you about getting distracted? you need to be more focused, and concentrate on training, otherwise you’ll never reach satisfactory level!” my older brother disapointedly said, he continued. ” Now get up out if that sand and hit me with your best shot”
    I pull myself up and groan. ” we’ve been at this for three days straight! I need a break. Please Salem.”
    sighing he agreed and let me do as I please. I look over to where Taniko was standing but he was gone. once my brother left the house i grab my hunting gear and head into the ash forest to hunt.
    The air is tense, the faint sound of screaming spirits echoed through the forest and not one tree danced in with the wind.
    The place is dead and now home to all dangerous creatures. It is forbidden to walk through this forest because of the wild creatures like the twelve foot long, five foot six tall, wild carnivorous boars that rip into their prey while it’s still alive, and rumour has it in the deepest part of the forest in an ancient cave lives an ancient great white man eating, fire breathing, monstrous dragon, it’s skin is said to be impenetrable.

    after a few hours of setting up traps I finally spot one, an adult male boar feeding on a Jalur, a feline shaped beast covered with feathers and armed with sabre like teeth and retractable claws the size of an infants foot. It looks like the Jalur put up a good fight, chunks of flesh has been ripped out of the boar. I grab my bow and draw an arrow from my quiver making as little noise as possible; I aim and slowly pull back, if I don’t get this shot right I’m good as dead.
    I let go and release the arrow, at that moment everything went slow in my mind as the boar looks up and stares at me. the arrow hits but in the wrong spot its side.Ii instantly feel cold and stiff as the boar stamps it’s large hoof on the ground readying to charge.
    It screams a deafening cry; then it starts storming towards me. I jump to my feet and bolt to the nearest tree, I scramble up to the middle hoping not to get knocked down. It rams the tree and the whole thing shakes. The thing with boars is they never quit until they win; or die.

    to be continued…..

  • StargazingSOULS

    I started writing about 2 years back and I’m really proud of this, although it is short. I wrote it in only one sitting.

  • Isabella Rosemary Macciocca

    hi my name is Isabella and I’m in year 8. About a few months ago i started to come up with the idea for a story. After a friend told me something i changed the name and then i ended up changing my idea for the whole story. This is it:
    Alex screamed in pain as electricity fired through and around his body. His body felt like it was in flames.
    “Oh God, why didn’t I listen?!”
    His eyes slowly opened, everything was gyrating, he couldn’t focus. He got up, but as he did, pain shot up his left leg all the way to his shoulder and he collapsed. The pain felt worse than a broken bone, it felt like the bones in his leg had been smashed.but when he heard the enemy coming his way, the ten year old got on his feet and, ignoring the pain, darted towards his house.
    ‘I have to find mum!’
    He reached his house only to find it in ruin. He searched and searched for his mum until he found her half buried in the rubble………….dead.
    The shocked boy hurriedly backed up, tripped on a stone and fell on his backside.
    But suddenly he heard a helicopter and foot soldiers heading his way.
    He had to get out of there, fast.
    In spite of the excruciating pain in his leg and the terrible shock of his mother’s death, he ran for his life, managing to grab a bag essentials as he bolted past it.
    The next morning he woke up lying against a tree in the middle of a forest. He had no idea how long he had been running for or when he had stopped. He was Exhausted and his leg was in unbearable, agonizing pain. He sat there for many hours just weeping and moaning. He had lost his family and all his friends; he was all alone. He had nothing left, but he pushed himself to live and not die. He decide to get up and find something to eat.
    He managed to find a river. After sitting and resting for a while, he began to recognize the river. He struggled to fight back the gushing tears. This river had been a regular camping site for him, his father and his brother. His heart began to ache as memories of the fun times of laughter and joy he had spent here came flooded through his mind.
    It was just reminded him how short life was, how quickly laughter could be stolen from his lips, how instantly joy could be turned to unbearable sorrow.
    He felt his faith in God beginning to wane.
    After eating some breakfast, he sat on a rock replaying the events of the day before. He began to blame himself for it all and slowly, anxiety, depression, grief and guilt began to flood his entire being.
    Alex didn’t know what to do next.
    he spent the next year wandering that forest aimlessly, while his mind was constantly tormented with thoughts of grief, sadness, guilt and shame until one fateful day………….he snapped.
    He got out his dagger, aimed…….

  • Lennie

    The light reflected, glaringly bright, off the shiny whitewashed, chipping brick walls, our footsteps tapping on the whitewashed concrete floor. Mother’s white hand grips my arm tightly, like she’s afraid I’ll run away. But where would I go?
    Her pale hand contrasts sharply against my dark arm. I look up at the harsh white lighting along the ceiling, then back down at my arm in Mother’s white hand. I am a blot on this pristine white canvas, mud on a pair of brand new boots. I am black. I am unwanted. I am unloved.
    A white door opens and Mother drags me through it, into yet another white room. Why does Mother think they’ll take me? I’m black. I am a child’s shit on their clean, white lives.
    Mother talks hurriedly, and in hushed tones to the nurse who is sitting at a white desk. I’m standing right beside them, yet they talk like I can’t hear them if they whisper. Like I can’t hear them because I can’t talk. I watch Mother pull out her purse and let go of my hand. I can hear the rustling notes and clinking coins as she tries to hide them from me. Money. Of course. They’ll take the mute, black kid if we give them enough money. Mother bends down and kisses my head before rushing out the door. I get a strange, tingly feeling creeping up my spine- like that was the last time I’ll ever see her. She had been good to me, in the short time I was with her. I can feel my hands begin to tremble and I know that I’m breathing far too rapidly. My mind starts racing, dark images and vivid colours flash through my mind as the nurse rustles through some papers. She mutters under breath but I can only catch the word “anxiety”. The nurse grabs my trembling arm, another white hand on my dark skin, and leads me through even more endless white corridors. My breathing grows faster and faster, and my chest constricts until I can hardly breathe at all-

  • maleeha tahir

    Mako jerked awake from midday dreams.
    “I must have dozed off..god…how stupid of me…”he muttered. rubbing the heels of his palm against his droopy eyelids. The police cases.files,highlighters,leftover fries,bookmarks which lay scattered on the desk, left it looking close to an overflowing dumpster. On the top of it all, a golden brimmed diary laid open, the scribbling had evidently been done some minutes ago as the ink which was still fresh and stained at several spots –
    “BO! WHAT DO U WANT?”He said snapping the diary shut and out of sight underneath piles and piles of work papers.
    “The plumbers here to check water lines around the house.”said bolin from other end of the door as mako flung it open. he stared unbashfully at the plumbers ludicrously stout appearance, apparently he was used to being observed closely and completely ignored mako’s rude expression as the two of them came in. The plumber was a squeaky little guy, who looked as if his own flesh was a great burden to bear,he sniffed unpleasantly at the smell of the rotten food as he felt about for loosen boards in the wooden wall.
    “What were you doing? I have been knocking the door for like ages.”
    “ah what?..Nothing special just some file work that is due tomorrow.” he said snapping out of his drowsiness yet again.”and i kind of drifted off for a minute or two.”
    “well good for you. I’ve hardly slept at all this past week with all this renovation and stuff going on.. anyway, korra sent one of those telegramp thingy. says she and asami have their trip cut short due to some-”
    ‘weren’t they coming back until after a month? what changed their minds?”mako interrupted and was strangely questioning. Inside he was slightly abashed.
    “Guess it has to do something with sato’s company dealings.but whats with you? eh? i thought you’d be happy. ” bolin stared at him a little taken back.
    “Of course i’m happy.”he said rather unfeelingly.”i just thought it a bit queer. last time korra wasn’t on schedule she went missing for three whole months.”
    although, a sudden shift in his eyes suggested that there was more to it than he was ready to admit and bolin unusually wise decided not to press any further on the topic. ” listen! I have to run some errands for beifong today.you keep an eye on the man while he works,i don’t like the look of him.”he added lowering his voice as he stalked out of the room.

  • maleeha tahir

    Please read my little creation i’ve posted below and be as critical as possible for i want to improve my writing style.Also, english is not my mother tongue so there might be some punctuating errors here and there and this is my first attempt at this sort of thing.

  • Paulina

    hello my names Paulina and im also new can you read mine?—
    by: Paulina
    Chapter one
    Another day in this bring town huh, Gloomy skies as always with old dead trees in the front yard and dead plants that has been sitting on my front porch since I was little. My dad stopped taking care of our house ever since the divorce between him and mom. I mean I gotta say it was pretty bad, all the fighting and hitting each other plus our dad drinking. It was a part of my life that I wished I didn’t live in that house anymore and hoping no one else is able to see their parents bad and drunk self. I mean it sucks honestly. Plus my brother was recently diagnosed with lung cancer. He’s been going strong for a few months now and i’m just hoping he’s gonna live a long life for a man with cancer. My dad know that he has cancer but he’s still not himself, still doesn’t help out he didn’t even stay longer than a night in the hospital with my brother, even though it’s been almost 9 years since the divorce. I have been taking care of my brother and I by myself. Ive taking on babysitting for money for groceries because the money my dad has he only spends it on alcohol and is out at some random girls house. It sucks but ive gotten used to it I guess.

  • Санникова Наталья

    Hello! This is a great article, very useful for those, who really want to learn to write. That’s why I want to ask: could I make a literary translation of this article to my native language? The link to the original and author I will put in my blog. I hope for your permission.
    Sincerely, Natalia

  • Jay


  • janak thanth

    Hey…i also want to write story like you..can i get best tips from you?

  • Bronte-May

    I have just started a story. I’m only 15 so it won’t be that good. Here’s the prologue, I’d appreciate some constructive criticism
    The exterior of the church was nothing special; the stained glass windows were slightly faded and several were slightly cracked. The large clock tower loomed over the small bespectacled man; whose grey hair and shabby suit gave him the appearance of an office worker, not one of the best lawyers in the city.
    Max Snowden entered the church and shivered. He looked around made a mental note of his surroundings; on the flagstone floor sat rows of slightly rickety pews with an aisle in between them that led up to the altar, to his left was a donation box next to a stand of flickering candles and to his right was the purpose of his visit. The confession box sat inconspicuously by the wall 9it would probably pass unnoticed by a member of the congregation) but the open door seemed to be calling him, beckoning him in. He walked slowly towards it but could feel his heart rate speeding up and his hands clenched into tight fists. He stopped in the small doorway, knowing that this was his last chance to turn back, to walk away as if nothing had happened. He shook his head, shut the door behind him and sat down, determined to go through with what he had decided to do.
    “You wish to make a confession?” An elderly man spoke to Max through the grate.
    “Yes I do,” he faltered, “Well, I mean it’s more that there’s something I want to get off my chest. Not something I’ve done exactly but someone else. I saw it and, well I didn’t know, so I thought to come here, not that you could help but, why is this so hard?”
    The priest spoke in calm, soothing voice, “Start at the beginning, that is always easiest. And remember, what you say is just between you and me.” His eyes flicked up to a box in the corner for a second.
    “It happened at six o’clock yesterday,” he began shakily, “I was leaving the office after work. It was raining quite heavily so I hurried towards the tube station, I didn’t want my suit to get too wet. Then I thought I heard something. It wasn’t a scream, I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe a cry, maybe a gurgle, I’m not sure but it sounded wrong. It came from around the corner where there was an alleyway. It was one of those that don’t go anywhere, you know, with a fence at the back and a couple of bins. I looked around the corner and saw three men standing in a huddle. Something told me to stay back, stay hidden, a sixth sense. I couldn’t hear them that well over the rain but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at what I did hear.”
    He shook his head, overcome with emotion and fear from what he had seen next.
    “You are doing well my friend,” the priest spoke gently; “I understand it’s hard but you came here wanting to say something and I think you should get it off your chest.”
    “They had low menacing voices, two of them. One of them said, “We monitor all of the computer systems, were you stupid enough to think we wouldn’t find out what you’ve done?” The third man was shaking a lot, not like he was scared but as if he was petrified. He shook his head but he couldn’t speak. Then something flashed in the hand of the other big one, and then the frightened one fell to the floor. I heard the one who spoke first say…. he…..he said, “The jobs done, he’s dead let’s go.””
    Max let out an enormous sob that racked all the way through his body.
    “When they had left I went over to the body. He was lying there in a pool of blood; it was dark, dark red. You’d never expect it to be that red. I spoke to him and he murmured something back to me. I looked down and saw a wound in his chest which was the source of the bleeding. I tried to stop it, I really did but there was nothing I could do. He tried to speak again so I leaned over, with my head centimetres above his mouth. It came out in a very low whisper but I managed to catch what he said; “They’re everywhere.”
    I was about to ask him what it meant but then he groaned and lay still. The light seemed to go out of his eyes. Even though they had stayed open I knew he was dead. I had thought his eyes would’ve closed, when he… But they didn’t. He seemed to be looking blankly into the night sky above me. I rang the police and they asked me to wait, but I couldn’t be there any longer. I ran back down the alleyway, my jacket covered in blood. I took it off and threw it into one of the dustbins. Then I left. I left him there all alone…..”
    His voice tailed off, unable to finish, but the priest had heard enough.
    “I am no expert in matters like this, but I recommend you go to the police station and tell them what you just told me. There’s no doubt it would be incredibly useful. I will pray for the man and I will pray for you, but that is all that I can do.”
    “Thank you father, thank you.”
    With that Max stood up, composed himself as best as he could, and walked out of the confession box and the church, and out into the street. Once he had heard the heavy oak door swing shut, the priest looked up at the small, black box in the corner again. This time he spoke to it, as if addressing a person, “I hope you’re happy.”
    Later that evening Max returned to his 4 bedroom semi feeling lighter and more relieved than he had done since he had witnessed the murder. He had rang up the police station and made an appointment to go in at 10 o’clock the next day. He had been slightly surprised that they hadn’t wanted to speak to him immediately, or at least get some of the details, but he supposed that they were too busy to speak to any new witnesses.
    He pulled up outside his house in the grey Mercedes that he had been given by his office. He entered his home and was immediately greeted by his cat, Pickles, who rubbed against his ankles and purred happily.
    “You must be wanting your dinner, I’ll get it in a minute,” Max told the cat as he removed his coat and shoes.
    He walked into the kitchen and poured the cat biscuits into the bowl on the floor. The cat trotted over but then seemed to change his mind and darted out of the room.
    “Pickles, come back, dinner!” he shook his head, “stupid cat.”
    He assembled the ingredients together to make his omelette and picked up the frying pan. Before he could continue any further a sound startled him. It sounded like a car pulling up right outside his house but he dismissed it, “Probably just the neighbours,” he told himself, even though he knew full well that they were visiting their son in Australia.
    He turned back around to face the cooker when he heard what sounded like a foot step on gravel, which was a bit odd because he was the only one on the street with a gravel path; everybody else had paving stones. He turned around to face the hallway and front door. His eyes widened as it swung open.
    If the neighbours had been in, they might’ve been able to hear a soft swoosh and a pan clattering to the floor.

  • apurva

    thankyou so much to tell me how to writestory

  • Jewelstari

    It was a cold night, it was the middle of Winter after all. But I never expected it to be this cold. I ran upstairs, taking a blanket out of my thick bed, I had decided not to sleep in my bed for the night because the matress was freezing cold. I went back downstairs, taking a pillow from the couch, went in front of the fire place and sat there until my hands were warm. I slept there that night not noticing the fire spreading, nearly the whole house was burnt. My mother woke me up in the middle shouting ” Hurry! Get out! The house is burning! ” I woke up, giving a yawn, unconcious of what was happening. And then I saw the fire spreading to my mother’s feet, I was then surprised and awake. I ran out of the house, according to her orders but full of tears as I had abandoned my burning mother. My father and brother were exhausted from panic, they were freezing, wanting to touch the fire outside the house, my father asked ” Where is your mother? ” I didn’t answer for he had known my red eyes meant I was crying. He took 5 steps back for he understood and my brother asked me the same question, ” Where is mother? ” I cried with tears instead, for I have given an indirect answer. They both ran away from me in fear, I looked at my hands, filled with selfishness, I could have saved my mother but she died saving me. After years, I met my brother and father in an apartment somewhere, we were coincidentally on the same floor. Everyday I would see my dad bring my brother to school, just after a month they noticed who I was, and they would run away from me whenever I got close to them, they referred to me as a monster and traitor who killed a member of our family. Often, I would cry in my room wishing to erase the memory of that night.

    I just uhm..idk what I did actually…I was scribbling with words

  • Jane

    “it’s cold very cold,mother please stay here I’m scared” that was a long time. *the alarm clock alarms* “uhhhh so loud!!, but I still want to know what happened in the past” she walk slowly “what happened in the past? my father wont even tell me. uhh it doesn’t matter I’m late already” *opening the door fast* *walking down stairs* “morning dad!!” “morning Anne come and eat breakfast” “thank you dad but I will just eat an apple or bread” “okay dear” to be continued

    • Jane

      …Continued “noo I won’t be late yet” *running* “ouch oh sorry I’m not looking where I’m walking!!” “nah its okay 🙂 are you okay?” “u-uh y-yes I am I can sta- ouch it hurts!!” “oh don’t push yourself you’ll get injured umm I mean you are already injured oh” she faint

      • Jane

        guys sorry I can’t tell you everything because it will be long

  • jayashree baxi

    love and great guideline. Life is all about protagonist and antagonist. Yes I have a story to tell. As Henny Penny started a rumour I the sky is falling and collected all to meet the king when foxy woxy intervened, I start this rumour read my story it’s grat you be the antagonist and search for the great story. Now now!1

  • Evan Maltass

    Please let me know if I should continue ..I’ve never written a story so criticism is appreciated.

    She never even saw it coming.

    Four years on the run had actually begun peeling away the blood soaked images of her own actions that were burned into the back of her mind. She had allowed herself to believe she had been given a second chance to start new, a chance to do things the way he had shown her all those years ago.

    However, it would appear that her chance had just been taken from her. A bone crunching crack to the back of her head crumbles her to the floor, her head ricocheting off the cold unforgiving pavement. Blood streaming from her hair down across her face.

    As her vision fades out into the abyss, the last thing she sees are these two delicate bare feet, like that on a child, gently stepping out into the puddle of steaming red ooze. A sparkling lavender dress sitting just high enough above the ankles to refrain from becoming tainted with blood.

    Her vision dwindles into nothingness, but before her consciousness is fully diminished, she hears the sweetest voice so clear, it’s as if is coming from every direction; “you left me, Ella. No one leaves me. No one.”. Then just like that, every sense goes blank. I can promise you, she never even saw it coming.

  • Michael

    I am glad I came a across this blog, Hey guys is the three draft a must for a good or a smart writer even though he breaks the rules ?