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Write a story about someone returning to their craft after a long hiatus.

Posted in Narrative on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 185 stories

Turf Wars

Winner of Contest #46 🏆

  They don't want to reconcile. They don't want to like each other. They can't even share a pen without fighting.   For the sixth time that morning, I separate the bunnies, stroke their foreheads, and whisper the universal mantra of bunny bonding: This is a happy warren. You are happy bunnies. Happy bunnies don't bite their friends.   "I think you should bond them at my place," says my sister. She sits behind the pen, her trademark Moleskine in her lap—black, of course; she wouldn’t be caught dead with anything beige. Ever si...

266 likes 128 comments 128
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Silver Crown

Submitted to Contest #46

The cold bit at his skin as the breeze hit its hardest smacking in and out tearing through the very fabric of his leather vest. On a mine in the land of the Neroshi, the snow was falling again. He looked up to the sky and felt a shiver go through his spine. He tightened his fur coat around himself. Even after spending all of his life fighting through the cold in the land blessed by Thirel, the god of the sea. Even with the blood of the First Gods running through his veins, the cold still hammered his skin and dried his lips.The axe...

93 likes 35 comments 35
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Renaissance

Submitted to Contest #46

She asked me, last night, to tell her a story. She’s changed since the day I pulled her out of the collapsing star that was our home. Since I snatched her from his gaping black-hole clutches and fled, holding her too close and too tight like I was turning her back into a part of me, since I drove haphazard and wild out of the state with her clamped in my arms, swerving through traffic and through tears. Her eyes are a little less wide and afraid. Her voice is a tiny bit clearer. She asked me to tell her a bedtime story. It’s not the kind o...

72 likes 17 comments 17
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The Agony of Forgetting

Shortlisted for Contest #46 ⭐️

The last line we wrote together was utter horseshit but I can’t bring myself to delete it.  The stars shone forth from his eyes like lasers.  I stare at the horizontal blinking line for so long that the screen saver comes on but I still can’t hit the delete button.  Drivel. Meaningless drivel. Worse, I can’t remember how serious it had been, either. Had we known how crap it was and laughed? Had we thought we were challenging Shakespeare and rejoiced? I can’t believe I don’t remember.  18 months and I’d finally bee...

65 likes 42 comments 42
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A Queen's Crown

Submitted to Contest #46

 Mia and I walked through Queen's Crossing trail, pushing away overhead branches to clear a path. Mia looked into my eyes questioningly, but I turned away to focus on the trail.      "I heard Queen's Crossing has a magnificent castle to the left of here, almost perfectly preserved!" Mia garbled on about the palace as we neared a sign. It was a bright day, and the woodland seemed even more tranquil than it was yesterday morning.      "You go ahead. I'll meet you here in a couple...

55 likes 12 comments 12
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In Another Echelon Of Existence

Submitted to Contest #46

Time Remaining: Zero minutes On Friday, Jonas had returned from 1942 with scathed limbs and a throbbing headache - a parting gift he had yet to get used to - for it was his job as a Drifter. Harmonies of swooping grenades and the ricochet of golden bullets buzzed in his ears as he collapsed onto his seat, drowning beneath the luminous stare of white lights that padded the ceiling. "Just rotated back?" Darius asked, tossing a cold pack across the table - a glare was what he'd received for the joking tone. He had stayed back for the fifth ...

45 likes 26 comments 26
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To My Dad And To Everyone Who I’m Going To Prove Wrong

Submitted to Contest #46

I stared at the blank page before me, hands poised above the keyboard. It had been two years. Two years working minimum wage jobs, two years since I dropped out of college, and two years since I’d quit writing completely, because, according to my father, “You can’t make a living as a writer. You’ll be a starving artist.” Well, I wasn’t a starving artist. I was just a starving minimum wage worker, which he says is basically the same thing. Between working long hours, eating, and sleeping, my time was limited and I had little-to-none to devote...

38 likes 6 comments 6
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Nightborn 2

Submitted to Contest #46

“Detective Ross?” He tucked the small leather pouch under his shirt. “Come in.” The office air was stuffy, piles of cigarette buds collapsing from the ashtray onto the mahogany desk. The latest report of another missing person rested on top of the stack. I should probably open the window. Let some fresh air in. “Briggs and Cunnings are back,” his secretary, Vivian, said. He waited to hear what he already knew. “Employees at the bakery confirmed seeing miss Austen leave at the end of her shift,” Vivian continued. “This was at 1:30 AM. Th...

36 likes 27 comments 27
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Life Story

Submitted to Contest #46

Oh, how to start? A mid-life crisis? No, our target audience isn’t some Karen’s husband. A sexy naked prince? Again. Wrong genre. Hmmm…  What about birth? Mmm, well yes, that seems most logical… From my infernal prison, I decided to pick up my hobby of writing again. It is a strange place where I am. I know that I can’t leave, but that’s obvious. Upon entering any enclosed space, creatures will search for an exit.Ooo, that was philosophical. Shhh, focus.What I do know is that it is dark. It is as though any light that should have been w...

31 likes 10 comments 10
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The Soul Words

Submitted to Contest #46

Familiar and foreign, the small black squares gave way under her the tips of her fingers. She felt butterflies in her chest, nervous, as a ballerina about to take center stage. Her lip turned in a sardonic smile and she shook her head slightly at the notion. Her laptop was her daily companion, searching, and reading, working, but today was the first time, the first time in a long time, that she intended and wanted to write. Not the emails and correspondence and spreadsheets and reports of her quotidian life, but the ephemera of her soul. The...

30 likes 7 comments 7
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It's Been a While

Submitted to Contest #46

It’s Been A While It’s been a long while since I’ve tried to do this. I wonder if writers today ever take pen in hand like I have just done, and began their story that way. I just can’t see starting a story on a computer. There seems to me to be a distance from the writer somehow. But then I don’t seem to be able to start the old way either. I know this particular sitting is going nowhere, so I will put the pen down, stand up, go outside, and do some gardening, probably going to feel like I have more in common with ...

29 likes 8 comments 8
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Scent of a Woman

Submitted to Contest #46

Year 76 CE“Ahha! Look who’s here,” mocked a shrill voice at the back.“Welcome bitch,” hissed another.Okayyy. Good to know what we are dealing with. I squinted to appraise my surroundings. The place reeked of rotting carpets and broken dreams. The metal gate slammed behind me and the key grated in the lock. The guard and his flaming torch retreated as I started to walk deeper into the cavern.Thhhhoooh. A gob of spit landed inches from me. It was Maja, the pretty Macedonian, sitting against the wall, resentment flaring in her eyes. She’d ...

25 likes 4 comments 4
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To Feel Again

Submitted to Contest #46

It had been a large walk in closet. Clothes were taken away, shelving was removed, and it was painted a deep sea blue color. The carpet was taken out and a small rug was bought and placed in the center of the room. A vintage wooden desk was placed in the far side of the room, with a small book shelf filling the other side.The last step was buying a computer to occupy the rolling top desk. Soon that was accomplished, it was a relatively undemanding task, but one that drained the buyers pocket immediately.I had my writing room. For if you didn...

24 likes 7 comments 7
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A Book of Memories

Submitted to Contest #46

Pictures were important to Amy. They hung on every wall in careful proportion and taste, adding that sense of memory to the house. Her children would come in and look at them, appropriately laughing or standing in silence before them. But now she held her breath. She had a task set, but her mind raced with thoughts, distracting her from the computer screen that sat expectantly before her. She willed her gnarled fingers to move, but nothing happened. What was she supposed to write about? Fiction or nonfiction? A mix of both? What about her li...

23 likes 0 comments 0
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Free-fall

Submitted to Contest #46

‘Just write.’ I repeat these words to myself. Because it is what she’s told me would be the cure. Like it’s easy! Even though it should be. I’ve told everyone I know that writing is like breathing to me. And it used to feel like that too, an extension of myself. I didn’t have to think too hard. Those were happier times. I had a time set aside for my writing, a routine I had broken in and was comfortable with. The only time of day I looked forward to eagerly. Now, I break out into a panic attack whenever I’m before an empty page. ...

23 likes 6 comments 6
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