Stories tagged “writing”

  • Martyr For Culture

    They’d taken me hostage. They’d found me sitting in my home, drinking some tea, and minding my own business. I knew they would. Even though I’d destroyed my computer, burned all my paintings, and surrendered my ipod when the law was s...

  • The Front

    The worried muse watched as the person she was supposed to be inspiring moped around in a manner reminiscent of a very unhappy mop. Sure, she couldn’t be seen, but that didn’t mean that she had absolutely no bearing in the author’s li...

  • Time Again

    It’s time. It’s time to do this again. Time to set fingers to keys, and remember how this works. I’ve almost forgotten how to do to this. I’ve almost forgotten what this meant. I’ve almost forgotten that gut feeling. IR...

    • Author: wytherwings
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 4 out of 5
  • Pressure

    There’s nobody looking over my shoulder. I’m not up on a stage. There is no audience listening. Nobody is waiting to read this. I have no deadline. Nobody will ever read this. That should equate to freedom, shouldn’t it? No restrictio...

  • The First Move

    Erika moved before anything irreversible could happen, and promptly ducked underneath the desk. Thanking the heavens that Miss Author wasn’t sitting at the desk, Erika took out what oddly looked like an ancient Greek version of a fly swatter; her...

  • To Swat

    “Ah, an Inspiration Imp. Why didn’t I guess?” Erika said dryly, observing the burgundy colored creature swinging from her grip. “Your lot’s always causing trouble. What’re you here for this time?” The imp sniff...

  • Censorship

    They call me crazy. I just want to write. Yes, it gets me in trouble sometimes, but that goes with the territory. Here comes another. All day they drop the carcasses of pens down the chute to my cell, devoid of ink, broken tips, beautiful cases snapped...

    • Author: Ryber
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • A New Ficler

    He could not control the words he was typing. They burst from his head, down to his hands and onto they keyboard. He never pre-wrote, he logged on, just typed and filled as much of the 1024 as he could. Grammar and punctuation could go to hell, he left...

    • Author: ernmander
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Giving Birth

    Melissa sat, pen in hand, spilling her ideas onto the paper. Her mind continued to fuel the wrist movement, and the words just kept flowing. In her mind, the majority of her characters were extensions of herself, be it her darker or more pleasant quali...

  • Stifled Writers

    The buzz of the solitary working streetlight and the distant call of the whippoorwill were an eerily serene background to her racing mind. Strange, she thought, that while the city is in ruin, I still stand here, as I always have, contemplating the sta...

  • Keepers of Implements

    In the dusty library, from the table in front of the hooded girl, another pen vanished. She pushed back the old oak chair, making a soft wood-on-wood scrape. Further up in the repository, a page turned. Another keeper must be reading ancient words. She...

  • 70 Deaths In

    Hello people of the world. This is your captain speaking. I hope you all are happy beca

    • Author: Stovohobo
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
  • Sometimes I wonder if there is ink in these veins [poem]

    I am not so much a who as a where Constantly in flux Moving butterfly-like from one idea To the next Try to pin me down and you’ll only cut yourself On paper-dolls and crumpled balls Of ideas best left in the waste bin Sometimes I wonder if there...

  • The Fisherman, The Writer

    He reached into his bait box and pulled out a live worm. Placing it still-writhing onto his hook, he spoke. “I guess I’m a different type of fisherman. The way I see it, all the stories are already up there, and it’s my job to find th...

    • Author: AM FM
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • In a Blink

    It just sat there mocking me. Blinking its blink of mockery. Pure white. Black bar. Pure white. Black bar. I could almost hear it. Blink. Blink. Blink. I moved my eyes down away from the mocking cursor and looked at my hands. I wanted to castigate them...

    • Author: TOAST
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 4 out of 5
  • What to Write?

    What to write, What to write? Isn’t that the ultimate question? Wait, I like this one better: What to read? What would you like to read? Help me please, Inspiration is sparse, And even in a room full of new people that share my same love, I feel ...

  • Let's Write

    Writing is like any other kind of work. Most of the time it isn’t easy, glamorous or fun. It’s staring at the blank page or screen wondering where all the inspiration you had when you started has suddenly gone. It’s wondering why the ...

    • Author: Garsecg
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • This is it

    The chime rang throughout the room as he flipped the coin again. His last dollar. It landed on heads and he grinned: “Heh, Lady Luck don’t fail me now.” Giving the coin a kiss, he set it down on his mouse pad, in front of the last cup...

  • Percolating It Ain't

    Percolate. Effort and random associations are struggling to steep the vapors of imagination with something more than retread ideas and glossy superficiality. I should be doing something else. This will amount to nothing anyway. I should go read ‘...

    • Author: THX 0477
    • Posted over 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Barren Wasteland

    “It’s a barren wasteland,” he said, looking to his wife. She took his hand in hers, concern entering her face for the first time. “Sweetie,” she said, “it will be fine.” But her voice wavered at just the wrong ...

  • Waking Up

    Yawwwwwn I open my eyes, excpecting to be in my comfy, plush bed with the pillows all around me and my cat snuggling next to me… But alas, there is sand in my pajama shorts and in my hair. I have dried seaweed stuck to my legs and arms. I see my ...

  • I Didn't Know I Wasn't Happy

    I sat down to try and write it out. I sat down to actually try and say something, anything, put it down into coherent words and sentences. Something I haven’t been able to do for a while now. I sat down and tried to figure out exactly what I was ...

    • Author: wytherwings
    • Posted about 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Self Esteem

    If I had a pencil to chew nervously, I would. It’s stupid, to be terrified of the faceless peer pressure out there. Nameless, too – no one uses their real name on the internet. Intarwebs. Whatever. And yet, here I am, editing, re-editing, d...

    • Author: B. Booth
    • Posted about 10 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Everyone's a Critic

    It was a dark and stormy night… -You’re kidding right? -No, it really was. -That wasn’t my point. I mean, don’t you think that line is a little cliché? -Look, I’m just trying to paint an accurate picture here. That’...

  • Soar

    My nay-sayers and my neighbors all told me, “You cannot live this dream. Fish may not fly.” “You will burn; just punishment for trying to fly too close to the sun.” But I answered, “I am the caged bird who sets herself fr...