She was shrouded in shadow, yet he could see the outline of the sharp object she had brought with her from the kitchen.
A Sugar High halloween writing competition entry, this one for the Short Stories Group. This story idea came an hour ago when darkestartist mentioned chocolate on my previous story, LOL!
There was no doubt our Mother loved us dearly. The only real problem was she didn’t love herself. She wasn’t a bad person; after Dad …
I started to write this to explain a poem I wrote and it kinda turned into a short story…my very first.
*Bobby poked his tiny head around the corner and saw the man with the metal fingers pointing one, long silvery one at his daddy. Daddy l…
This piece of flash fiction was written because I was in a state where all I could think of was “sad ghosts”. Hmmm… / CREATION INFORMATION Medium: Writing – Flash Fiction, Suspense/Horror/Mystery, Tools: Microsoft Word, My Brain/Imagination Topic: the Supernatural, the Mob / CONTEST & CHALLENGE HISTORY 05/21/08 – Winner of Flash Fiction’s May – first challenge ‘Witness’ (Somebody pinch me!!!) 05/13/08 – Entry to Flash Fiction’s May – first challenge ‘Witness’
The bright light finds it’s opening through the clouds, shooting through enough glare to make my eye’s squint. I raise my hand to salute…
As A Child …I lay to sleep / Frightened… Feeling Scared … / I Prayed Angels..To / Watch Me In My Sleep
Angel Dance In Laughter, An Angel Danced In Glee….
Once upon a time (because that is how all good stories start) there lived a little girl named Litty. Litty’s real name was LeticiaAnne bu…
This is still a work in progress. Have not done much editing.
My Mum and Dad never seem to be happy. They used to argue all the time, but now they just ignore each other. It’s mainly Dad I think. ...
Once upon a time in a far away land, that wishes to be unseen; lived a girl who lived to be known. In the land of Unseen the people walk …
For Kiara. She is the girl who wishes to be seen….lol
“Jewel please, you must promise me you won’t go near there, the cars on that road go much too fast,
This was my first attempt at writing a short story which was way back in 1992. I started writing because I had an illness at that time (yeah and again now) called ME. I needed to try to keep sane which any of you who know me is quite hard to do as I like to muck around a lot. (Life is too short to be serious all the time so have fun) I needed mental stimulation so I took up a short story writing course. The rest as they say is history. Now for you experts out there who know the English language inside out you will no doubt find several mistakes in my writing, grammar, spelling, etc, etc. And I know you will say ‘but you can do something about it’ but I can’t, I cannot retain much information anymore so the mistakes will have to stay and I am very sorry if ruins the read for you so please try to understand I write for the love of writing to get down what it is I have to say. I believe the stories are still a good read but you can be the judge just go easy with me, please – thank you. A Child’s Wish was published by New Fiction in 1992 into an Anthology of Short Stories called ‘Shorts from Cornwall’ and was edited by Tracey Walton. Thank you for taking the time to read it and please feel free to leave me a comment if you have the time. I was inspired to write A Child’s Wish because of a beautiful place my brother and I used to visit called Vero farm. (And I don’t think you spell Vero like that sorry Andy.) We had a really great friend who lived there Called Andy Reeve which a lot of you know him and his fantastic work on RB. (Oh yeah, he still is a fantastic friend) The farm was a place I always loved and so did Ken my brother and it gave me the premise for the story
A child imagination and escape
Joe and the Gift
I Love That Child That Is Not Mine Just when I thought I was over you, / You called me and sa…
A young man chooses to keep loving someone who hurts him all the time. Some things are not meant to be. What do you thingk about it? Tell me!
So vibrant in constant succession, intricate patterns, / Animation enthusiastically keeping my eyes on the page – while they danced alive.
Uhh. Realising I have not added anything to this page for a painfully long while. I’m throwing this up, again the work of she-who-refuses-to-be-named. Although I have not actually ASKED yet I doubt it will be any of an issue (let us hope not)
The pounding of the machines from the nearby coal mine covered his loud shrieks of cry for his mother. It wasn’t until later in the eveni…
A short story about an infant’s struggle for the right to live.
I recieved an e-mail about a teen girl who was experiencing dating and car joy-riding. When she took off on a date her Mom`s word…
The coast was clear so I went for the gold…or, in this case, the plate…
I had to write this for a school assignment and thought it was pretty good so I decided to post it on here. Written 12-30-07 11:11 pm. / BY THE WAY / This is fiction. I have an Aunt Grace but no Great-Grandma Grace. The name was a recommendation from a friend. There is no plate in my family as an heirloom (that I know of?) and if there is, I doubt it’s like the one described in this story. ENOY!!! =D
Good morning Napoleon! / “What shall we do today?” Mommy asks Napoleon. / Napoleon plays with his toys. He likes his squeaky yellow b…
I wrote this story when my oldest of four was just a bit over two. My son Napoleon has autism and the only way he could ever communicate to me anything was to make sounds or just barely say mama. Though at the time I did not know he had autism. I drew illustrations for it and hope one day to finish it. It is a rough draft written over 10 years ago. I use to write alot for children, but have not written in many years. / Any guidance i would appreciate. This is intended to be a picture book.
Why does he not run? Now when he knows he is to be beaten
He was a contemptible child. I admit it.
For the Star Twisters challenge… / The use of the words code, whack, contemptible, charmed, and terrorised were words that had to be used in this tale.
Brad Forsythe was a hottie. True, he was pretty aggressive and a year younger than me, but what do such things matter when you are in lo…
Caspar and Mara I was patrolling through the woods when I came across Caspar sitting in a tree. This struck me as odd, because he wasn…
This is a part of my story I was inspired to write by doing a character profile of the girl, Maia. She’s kinda based on the good, soppy bits of me. In this, because she’s so immeasurably nice, she falls for the villain of my story, although they don;t know he’s evil yet. They spend a night together (you can work out for yourselves what happened) and she gets pregnant. Caspar has fallen in love with her but knows he can’t stay with her, so decides to make her as happy as possible while he’s still around. Alba is very protective of Maia, and so angry at Caspar. (see my other story parts for explanations of characters) The alternative endings bit is where my story took over again (i never intended for one of them to get pregnant). I think it’s ridiculously cliched for the main character to have been pregnant and be dealing with having had to give up the baby for the good of the child and others. (plus she’s me. I refuse to allow even an alternative me to get pregnant.) so I wanted to make it just that Alba cares about Maia, and so is looking after her until the baby is born. I’d like to know whether you think the ending i’ve given here really IS too cliched
“When I go outside, I play with ants.” / “They crawl on my shoes and on my pants.” / “They can go outside but now I can’t.”
This is a story about a little boy and his love for his pets.
I can’t say that I love you yet. How can I love you when I don’t know who you are? If you were a stranger I passed on the street, I would…
This short story explores some of the powerful emotions that a new mother might experience as she holds her child for the first time.
We don’t know where you are, at this point in time. / You were taken at a young age, and I hope you are fine. / Someone took you away, bare…
A child is kidnapped from his parents and they in turn hope the people responsible for this unforgettable crime are listening(reading).
Had my feet not been stuck to their step, I would have turned tail and fled.
This story is in two parts! / Children often experience their own lives almost as fairy-tales. They take on guises alien to their actual environment. They flee from reality, spinach, homework or whatever. I was certainly no exception. This story is based on experience. I make no apologies for my fertile imagination and hang to dark, and sometimes tall stories. But this story is also a therapeutic exploration of the child’s mind i.e. mine. On reflection, I think I needed my make-believe world in order to cope with the real one that revolved round my terminally ill father. That is one of the reasons I loved the theatre. Escapism. But probably existential.
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