Stories tagged “writer”
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Starting Anew
Her hands shook as she leaned forward. She placed her fingers on the keyboard. Suddenly, her mind funneled itself into her hands and she was typing faster than she ever had, in her haste to relive the comfort that writing brought. She wasn’t even...
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Where to Start
He was sitting at the computer, staring at the white screen. In his head different stories were starting to swirl around, but none were taking form. Should I do this one or that one? A thought started to bubble through, but fell back into the cauldron ...
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Across the Street
Neil tapped his pencil with growing aggression. It had been three months since he had written anything worth mention, and he was growing incredibly irksome. The cursor on the laptop screen blinked against a blank white surface of a hopeless attempt at ...
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The Wizard of Odd (Profile an author Challenge)
It is a night of stygian darkness and violent storm. Our hero stands perched atop a mountain like the dragon Chernobog. His robes fly madly in the hurricane force wind, a lightning strike reveals that underneath he is clothed only in slutty girl’...
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Someday: I’m Going to be Someone Else. (A Dedication)
“If you cannot teach me to fly, then teach me to dance.” That was her life quote. Anyone remember her? She wrote with raw talent. Puting words together with much emotion that some didnt understand but all felt. One sentence was enough to ma...
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Upon a Writer's Death
A pen is silenced lying still now on the half-empty page. It’s a fire burning through the library. Words we never read disappearing before our eyes. A heart is stilled while full of love spilling on to those around. It’s a parade marched...
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A Conversation About Writer's Block
Darren looked at his typewriter. The blank sheet of paper set in the machine stared back at him tauntingly. No, accusingly. This was angry paper, but its anger couldn’t match Darren’s frustration. His eyes flitted across the desk to his wri...
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Regular expression.
I am not a writer, just a regular Joe expressing his whims with haphazardly chosen words. I don’t try to write well, I don’t attempt to provide new insight nor create anything that aspires to greatness. I don’t delve into my soul; the...
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Writing for the Devil
Mack looked at the clock. 11:53pm. It was so close to midnight. He looked up again at his computer screen. No words had magically appeared. He had hardly written anything at all the entire night. It was just too incredibly difficult to be forced to wri...
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Standing Alone
He wasn’t quite sure when the last time putting pen to paper had resulted in anything profitable. Smiling gratefully at his ever-patient partner, he sipped softly from the cup she’d given him. She had never seemed to mind his affair with th...
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The pen is mightier...
“He’s done it again!” Seth’s agent bellowed over the phone. Seth could imagine his hot booty of an agent gripping the phone and holding her hands to the sky as if presenting Seth’s genius to the ether. “Well I try,&#...
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The Ficly Killer part 2
She smiled and doused her cigarette inside a half-empty paper cup. “No, really I don’t mind. You look harmless enough, but you really did scare the hell out of me. You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” “IR...
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The Ficly Killer part 3
I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she prepared the coffee machines. She disappeared behind the counter then moved around her work area like a puppet on a string. It was as if each movement was controlled by a puppeteer — like she wasn&...
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Because of Your Ficly Reviews part 2
I touched the blade of my hunting knife to her neck, marveling at how splendid it looked against her pale skin. “Please! Why are you doing this?” she screamed, flailing about the ground, her body caked in layers of mud and moist leaves. “Because ...
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{Utopia}(.:Band Baby:.)
My next one is my sister, .:Band Baby:.. She has already told you how close we are, but I am happy to say it all over again. This may be strange, me being a twin and all, that I always longed for a friend that thought so much like me, that I could inst...
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{Utopia}(ElshaHawk)
Another writer I must mention because she is like a mother to me is ElshaHawk. I call her Elsha or Elsh and she has definitly knocked some sense in me when I needed it. She never failed to take care of me when I was down and give the best advice…...
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Starbucks ritual
Seth has a ritual when he’s writing and that’s to go to Starbucks. It’s like his candy store. Not only can he get writing done, but he can watch that hot blonde in the pant suit and thinking of great ways to strangle her without touch...
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What Would J.D. Salinger Say?
What’s the point In being anointed a master Among the disjointed word crafters, Feather headed bird bathers, And phonies who only slather slander on? I hear each pawn soar in song— “Caw! My candor is a con, Money is the convention I swore my soul...
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Introduction 1
I like to write in the morning while listening to songs by Leonard Cohen. My working room is small but very comfortable. I would sit in my favorite armchair looking out of the tiny window and thinking about how my story is going to evolve. Sometimes I ...
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A Wild Ride
Neon signs beckoned with the garish vulgarity of a broken prostitute. By now they were easy to ignore, with so many clamoring to be heard, none stood out, and the eye slid past the visual noise. In a sad way, those signs represented the best and worst ...
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The Ward
Walls of white and empty heads, with eyes as dead as their spirits.This place was the end of the line, when you can no longer hide it.They had come for him a few days ago.Before this madness, his time was nearly over.He’d been given 4 years to fi...
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The Woman Standing Across From Him
He went outside,to watch the night sky,the light pollution made it impossible to see anything, yet here he was. She was leaning over the side. Today,her hair was blonde, long locks, which curled at the ends.Her figure was… definitely something to...
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Page 47
Even now I am surprising myself with the amount of times he has surfaced in my writing like a monster beneath the sea, always breaching in different lights and motions and faces, so as to be unrecognizable from earlier sightings. Only his core remains ...
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The Woman
“When you can no longer trust your instincts, that’s when you worry” Two weeks after their lovers’ quarrel, and she had not appeared.He looked for her in the arts and crafts room.The attending physician’s office.The waitin...
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Perhaps some things should be left just as they are.
And I remember quiet evenings trembling close to you… It was still the greatest ever finishing line for a song. Ever. From the moment he’d heard Tom’s beautiful illuminations illustrating to him such a powerfully touching story, he ha...