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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write a story that ends in the past.

Posted in General on May 27, 2020

Submissions are closed!

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✍️ 80 stories

“Made of Fear.” by Avery Mason 🍍😇🤩

Submitted on 05/20/2020

Made of FearAre you ready? Good, let us begin. We are talking about you right now, not me, you. You are born to fear, that is what you are made of. Oh, you didn’t know that? You think of your life as perfect, but it is as fragile as a snow globe. Yes, your life is like a snow globe. A small, perfect, compact house, as you see it. The snow that is swirling and billowing around, your small, perfect, compact house, is fear. Your mother taught you the art of fear when you were born. She taught you to be scared of spiders, an...

39 likes 55 comments 55
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“story of a lifetime” by Sadia Faisal

Submitted on 05/21/2020

I was born in a poor family. Below average. I was a topper in my class. Always secured 1st position. Always got medals and always was the prominent one in school.But I was beaten up badly almost everyday by my family members mainly because my thoughts were different from them. My actions were not exactly the same, they were expecting.My Father holds the top rank in beating me.Second award goes to my older brother.Third to uncle and sometimes Mother also used to contribute to this religious deed. (She’s...

31 likes 19 comments 19
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“William” by Zilla Babbitt

Submitted on 05/17/2020

It’s like I said, I didn’t know him very well. He’d already graduated by the time I came along, and I only heard about him from his mother and ex-girlfriend and the chemistry teacher who thought he was spoiled. I’d seen him once, when he came in to ask his mother about something. He came barging in through the dull fake-wood door and held a muttered conversation with his mother, who bore ink stains up to her elbow. She lit up when she saw him. 

17 likes 14 comments 14
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“when she was...” by Ollie Octopus

Submitted on 05/22/2020

When she was two, She learned my numbers. How to count to ten. She also learned how to sing. When she was three, she learned her ABCs, and my, was that the fun times? When she was four, she learned how to write and do the math. She also had a new member in her family. When she was five, She learned how to read and write sentences. Then, she had a bunch of friends. When she was six, She learned how to read stories. When She wa...

15 likes 6 comments 6
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“Coats of Many Colors” by Kathleen March

Submitted on 05/18/2020

She is standing there, looking at me. She says nothing, but bends her head first to the left and then to the right, ever so slightly. I think she’s studying me. There’s not a lot to study, because I am plain and simple. I mind my own business and do my job. I have seen so many things in my life. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen. You may not want to hear or see what I’ve seen.In any event, I’m going to err on the side of caution. I don’t want to be known as not being able to keep s...

12 likes 5 comments 5
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“A life in silence” by Marte Van der linden

Submitted on 05/23/2020

Only three people came to his funeral.One was the nurse who had looked after him during the last weeks of his life. She knew his name, or thought she did, but always referred to him as “the grumpy old dear in room 21A”. He had died alone while she was tending to Mrs Dahl in 13B, and she thought the least she could do was come to his funeral.The second person was one of his old neighbours, a tiny woman with grey hair pulled into a tight bun. Mr Halvorsen, as she knew him, had always kept himself to himse...

12 likes 5 comments 5
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“The Magician ” by Shawna King

Submitted on 05/23/2020

A man in his early thirties sits idly in front of a sleek holographic device. His smooth brunette hair hangs past his narrow shoulders, which are slumped against the back of an industrial sectional. A long navy robe drapes over his lanky figure. He extends his slender arm and points at the television like device, swiping his index finger to filter through the scenes playing out a few feet ahead of him. His angular face is cloaked by a thick chestnut beard. As he begins to yawn, his eyelids rest heavy against light blue irises. &nbs...

12 likes 1 comment 1
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“Trapped” by Sophie Fluffernuff

Submitted on 05/20/2020

I'm trapped. My heart is racing and my breathing is labored. My vision is becoming blurry and I'm choking on my words. I am not trapped in a physical cage or room, but inside my mind. I try and refocus, because I know I'm in public...right? I forgot. My mind is only focused on the panic pulsing through my body. I try and claw my way out of the deep darkness of my thoughts. I try. I try so, so, so, so, so hard. But I can't. I'm on the brink of losing control, but I can't risk that. I hear a faint scream, but nothing else from the ...

10 likes 3 comments 3
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“Murderer” by Brooke D.

Submitted on 05/17/2020

Murderer, by Brooke D.I woke up to my alarm beeping. I turned it off, got up, and walked over to my closet. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and then walked first to the second floor and woke up Xavier, and then to the third to wake up Xander.Once they were awake, I was able to go downstairs and start getting their breakfast ready, along with my lunch."Xavier! Xander! What kind of cereal do you want?"I called."Cinnamon Toast Crunch, duh!"Xavier yelled."Fruit Loops please!"Xander screamed. Xand...

10 likes 9 comments 9
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“One Last Golden Day” by Avani Gupta

Submitted on 05/19/2020

Ryan sighed as he watched all of the kids play and dance around the playground. School had just ended yesterday, and it was back to staying at home during summer for Ryan—unlike the other kids at Crestview High. But the idea of going outside sent goosebumps all over Ryan's body.From the living room, he could hear his father typing furiously against the keyboard, working every second of the clock to publish his new book, The Beauty Of Simply Living. Ryan never told anyone, but he would secretly read the book at night when his father...

9 likes 15 comments 15
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“Thw Spire” by Sarah Oakes

Submitted on 05/22/2020

The Spire stood outside the Temple; its sandstone pillar aged by the sun. It had always been there, for longer than anyone could remember. Fikri walked past it as he did every day. He never really gave it much thought. But today he couldn’t help himself. He had woken earlier than usual, startled by a strange dream of stars and doors. Fikri sighed, wondering what to do with the time as he sat on a bench. He sat there for a while, sandals scuffing the red sand of the desert. He glanced at the sundial. He had time. It wasn’t...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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“A Summer Story” by Leane Cornwell

Submitted on 05/18/2020

I was in the second grade in 1956. The school year was nearing its end, summer vacation a mere three weeks away. My vacation was to start a full two weeks earlier than the rest of my classmates.  Facing three months of summer, at the age of seven, one would think I’d be jumping for joy. One would be wrong. I was not looking forward to it. The usual short bus ride to Woodbridge Elementary School had been replaced that morning with me in the back seat of our ’49 Chevy....

8 likes 2 comments 2
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“Baby Steps” by Deborah Mercer

Submitted on 05/20/2020

“Take it nice and slow,” says the warder who is escorting Barry to the high security prison. “Baby steps!” His voice isn’t really unkind. It’s just the kind of thing that prison warders say. Force of habit, Barry supposes, as much as anything else. As if he had a choice, shackled as he is! He wonders if he could risk saying, “Well, I could hardly break into a jog, could I?” But he doesn’t particularly want to say it anyway. The warder steers him up the steps of the van, and perhaps he thi...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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“Mr. Checker” by Lori Colt

Submitted on 05/22/2020

“Thank you dear.” My mom says as she endeavors to tame her disheveled silver hair with her quaking, timeworn hands. I pull the car to the curb as she presses her palms to her lap and says, “Now who are you again?” Her voice a pale, shaky version of what it was when she was really still with us. We’ve been through this a million times, my mom Char and I. You’d think I’d get used to it by now but it never ceases to be unsettling. I turn off the ignition and take a long breath. I get out and walk to the ...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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“A Broken Past” by M.zubair Alam

Submitted on 05/22/2020

Tired, fed-up, and depressed, Sarah is sitting head down between her knees, on the couch. She is imagining deeply a way out of the current bleak situation. It has now been almost two months without a job, sitting idle, watching seasons, and working on her novelette. Sometimes, in the evenings she make her way in a park or checks in a rustic-style coffee shop located at a highland with a small stream of water flowing by its side. She is immensely broken from inside. Nothing ever preceding ...

7 likes 0 comments 0
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