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By Gulraj Singh4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon and the Little One
The sun was just starting to go down, and the leaves beneath the feet of the 7 soldiers were getting colder and making crunching noises someone could hear from more than a mile away.
By Brittany Brin4 years ago in Fiction
5 Guidelines for fiction writers
WHAT IS FICTION WRITTING? is the creation of fiction-based written compositions. Fictional writing frequently takes the form of a story intended to entertain readers or express the author's point of view. This could lead to the creation of a short story, novel, novella, screenplay, or drama, albeit these aren't the only forms of fictional writing. Novelists, playwrights, short story writers, radio playwrights, screenwriters, and other genre-specific authors all write fiction.
By Johanna Wanjiru4 years ago in Fiction
Lost in thought
She didn’t remember that grove of trees. Which, you are quite right, is ridiculous. How can a grove of trees look any different than another another grove of trees? And how could you possibly tell the difference between one and the next? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the low branches hitting the ground at the wrong angle. Or maybe it was the wildflowers around it that looked different. But she knew something was wrong.
By Brigitte Pellerin4 years ago in Fiction
Laurie’s Christmas Miracle
Laurie was a lovely girl of eight with long, red curls and shinning green eyes. She had a slightly upturned nose and would have been no different from any other little girl her age except for the fact that she sat in a wheelchair. Laurie sat perfectly still looking out her bedroom window. It was the beginning of October and as always at this time of year, she had memories that should have been too painful for any small child to think upon. It had been on Christmas Eve three years ago when Laurie was five that her world turned upside down.
By Rasma Raisters4 years ago in Fiction
The Lonely Little Girl
Once upon a time, a little girl lived with her parents in the deep heart of the forest. The little girl had no friends or any other family but her parents. Both her parents were single children and their siblings died in the great war many years ago. The little girl spent all of Christmas sitting by her bedroom window in great sadness, watching the snow falling laying its beautiful white quilt on the ground. She watched the children play snowball fights and sledding with their siblings and friends. A tear fell down her cheeks.
By Carol Ann Townend4 years ago in Fiction
Blizzard Advisory
This is my first paper to be posted on this platform! I am very excited to see how this goes and to hear back from you guys. I always appreciate feedback so feel free to share any of your thoughts.
By Jerusha G. Burks4 years ago in Fiction
Behind the Last Window
Behind the Last Window It was a dark and stormy night, the kind that made you want to curl up under a blanket and never leave your bed again. The wind howled and the rain pounded against the windows, as if trying to find a way inside.
By Paul Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Behind the Last Window
Behind the Last Window The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She had never stepped foot beyond the walls of the compound, but the window offered a tantalizing glimpse of the world beyond. The sky was always a bright blue, the trees a deep green, and the grass a vibrant shade of yellow. It was as if the window was a portal to another world, one that was far more beautiful and inviting than the one she knew.
By Paul Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Machine
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Vivid green grass, the warm golden glow of the sun. Flowers of every color, purple, red, white. Trees that towered past the window until she had to strain to see their tips. Wispy white clouds that gently brushed across the face of a calm blue sky. A world of freedom. Infinite possibilities with a future you could hold in your own two hands.
By Ruth K4 years ago in Fiction
Return to Valkyrie
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Of course, what she knew as a window was a door to everyone else. A locker door that periodically swung open, and served as her prison.
By Zack Graham4 years ago in Fiction
Hope wrapped in tiny arms
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The attic had always been her papa's favorite room, he used to love to hide there and paint many lovely pictures. He didn't do that much anymore, I guess he was just too sad now.
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Fiction