essay questions on storytelling

Narrative Essay Topics: TOP 200 Choices for Students

Imagine yourself facing a blank page, ready to fill it with your memories and imagination. What story will you tell today?

As students, you often have to write narratives that capture people's attention. But with so many stories to choose from, where do you start? How do you find the perfect topic that will grab our readers' interest and make them think?

Join our essay service experts as we explore 200 topics for college where stories are waiting to be told, and experiences are ready to be shared. From everyday events to unforgettable moments, each topic is a chance to connect with your readers and make them feel something.

Best Narrative Essay Topics: How to Choose the One That Resonates

A narrative essay is a type of writing that tells a personal story, including characters, plot, setting, and the order of events. Its main goal is to connect with readers emotionally and share a specific message or insight through the retelling of a meaningful experience.

Students write narrative essays as part of their studies for several reasons. Firstly, it allows them to express themselves creatively by sharing their unique experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Secondly, it helps them develop important writing skills like organizing ideas and thoughts effectively.

Choosing good narrative essay ideas involves looking at personal experiences, interests, and the potential for engaging storytelling. Here's a simple guide to help you pick the right topic:

Think about significant moments in your life that had a lasting impact, such as personal growth or overcoming challenges.
Choose topics related to your hobbies, interests, or areas of expertise to make your story more engaging.
Consider what your audience would be interested in and choose topics that resonate with them.
Focus on a specific event or detail to make your narrative more focused and impactful.
Look for universal themes like love or personal transformation that connect with readers on a deeper level.
Brainstorm ideas and write freely to uncover compelling topics.
Decide on storytelling techniques like flashbacks or foreshadowing and choose a topic that fits.
Get feedback from friends, peers, or instructors to see if your topics are interesting and impactful.
Choose topics that evoke strong emotions for a more compelling narrative.
Select a topic that you personally connect with to make your story authentic.

Once you've chosen a topic, brainstorm ideas and create an outline for your essay. Follow your professor's instructions carefully and consider seeking help from our narrative essay writing service if needed.

Bring your stories to life with EssayPro. Select from a vast array of narrative essay topics and let our professionals help you weave your tales into captivating essays. Whether it's adventure, reflection, or imagination, we're here to assist.

Do You Need Professional Help with Your Hometask?

Ideas for Narrative Essay Topics

After exploring how students write narrative paragraphs, we've put together a list of narrative essay topics designed specifically for college and school students. This list covers a wide range of subjects, so pick one that speaks to you! If you want to see how to develop a topic into a written essay, check out our narrative essay example .

Literacy Narrative Essay Topics for College Students

How about delving into captivating literacy narrative essay topics designed specifically for college-level writing? Exciting, isn't it?

How did learning to read change my perspective on the world?
What was my favorite childhood book and why?
How did writing my first story impact my love for storytelling?
What challenges did I face when learning a new language?
How did keeping a journal help me improve my writing skills?
How did my family influence my attitude toward reading?
What role did literature play in shaping my identity?
How did participating in a book club enhance my reading experience?
How did technology affect my reading habits?
What was the most memorable book I read in school?
How did my favorite teacher inspire my passion for literature?
What impact did reading diverse perspectives have on my worldview?
How did overcoming a reading difficulty shape my relationship with books?
What lessons did I learn from writing my first poem?
How did storytelling traditions in my culture influence my literacy journey?

Personal Narrative Essay Topics on Relationships

Take a moment to reflect on your past experiences and craft compelling personal narratives with these essay ideas.

How did my relationship with my best friend change over time?
What lessons did I learn from my first romantic relationship?
How did my relationship with my sibling influence who I am today?
What challenges did I face in maintaining a long-distance friendship?
How did a conflict with a family member teach me about communication?
What role do my pets play in my life and relationships?
How did volunteering together strengthen my bond with a friend?
What impact did a mentor have on my personal growth?
How did a betrayal affect my trust in relationships?
What did I learn from a failed friendship?
How did traveling with a friend deepen our connection?
What role does forgiveness play in maintaining healthy relationships?
How did my relationship with my parents evolve as I grew older?
What lessons did I learn about teamwork from a group project?
How did a disagreement with a colleague teach me about compromise?

Best Narrative Essay Topics on Education and Learning

Consider the beauty of sharing your personal experiences and emotions in a captivating manner through these ideas for personal narrative essays.

How did a particular teacher inspire me to excel in school?
What challenges did I face while adapting to online learning?
How did participating in extracurricular activities shape my educational experience?
What lessons did I learn from a memorable field trip?
How did studying abroad broaden my perspective on education?
What role does technology play in modern education?
How did overcoming a learning obstacle impact my academic journey?
What did I gain from tutoring a classmate in a challenging subject?
How did a hands-on learning experience change my understanding of a topic?
What impact did a mentor have on my educational and career aspirations?
How did peer collaboration enhance my learning in a group project?
What lessons did I learn from a failure or setback in school?
How did my cultural background influence my approach to education?
What role does self-directed learning play in my academic success?
How did participating in a debate or public speaking event shape my communication skills?

At this point, we think you might've already been interested in our term paper writing service that helps busy students succeed in college.

Personal Narrative Essay Ideas on Reflection on Life

Why not ignite your creativity with a range of narrative essay topics, from extraordinary moments to everyday experiences?

How did confronting a fear change my view on courage and growth?
How do family traditions shape my personal values and beliefs?
What does success mean to me, and how has it evolved?
Reflecting on friendships as a source of support in tough times.
How have travel experiences expanded my global perspective?
How do my hobbies and passions bring fulfillment to my life?
Exploring the link between self-love and mental well-being.
How can challenges lead to unexpected personal growth?
Reflecting on the importance of setting and reaching personal goals.
What pivotal moments mark my journey to self-acceptance?
Investigating how forgiveness resolves personal conflicts.
How do cultural expectations shape my idea of success?
Reflecting on the significance of self-care for overall well-being.
Exploring how technology influences my connections and worldview.
What did I learn from facing a life-changing decision?

Ideas for a Narrative Essay on Culture and Society

Engaging your readers with narrative essays on culture and society is a great way to spark interest, offering captivating ideas for exploration.

How has my cultural heritage shaped my identity?
Reflecting on a tradition or ceremony that holds significance in my culture.
Exploring the impact of globalization on local traditions and customs.
How does language influence the way I perceive the world around me?
Investigating the role of food in cultural identity and expression.
Reflecting on a cultural celebration or festival that left a lasting impression.
How does media portrayal affect societal perceptions of different cultures?
Exploring the intersection of culture and religion in shaping values and beliefs.
Reflecting on experiences of cultural assimilation or integration.
How do stereotypes impact individuals within a cultural group?
Investigating the role of art and literature in preserving cultural heritage.
Reflecting on the challenges and benefits of multiculturalism in society.
Exploring the significance of storytelling in passing down cultural traditions.
How do cultural norms influence gender roles and expectations?
Reflecting on the cultural exchange experiences that have broadened my perspective.

Since you're working on essays, we think it's suitable to suggest you learn more about the case study format , which is another common college assignment.

Narrative Writing Topics on Hobbies and Interests

Wow your readers by turning your passions and hobbies into compelling narrative essay topics that will get them thinking.

Describe a memorable adventure or experience related to your favorite hobby.
Reflect on how your hobby has evolved over time and its significance in your life.
Write about a moment when your hobby provided a sense of escape or relaxation.
Explore the role of hobbies in promoting mental health and well-being.
Share a story of how you discovered your passion for a particular hobby.
Describe a challenge you faced while pursuing your hobby and how you overcame it.
Reflect on the impact of your hobby on your relationships with others.
Write about a hobby-related achievement or milestone that you are proud of.
Explore how your hobby connects you to a community or group of like-minded individuals.
Describe the process of learning a new hobby and the lessons you gained from it.
Reflect on the role of hobbies in balancing work, leisure, and personal growth.
Write about a hobby-related project or creation that you are passionate about.
Explore the connection between your hobbies and your broader interests and values.
Describe a favorite memory or experience involving your hobby.
Reflect on how your hobbies have influenced your perspective on life and the world around you.

Narrative Essay Titles on Life-Changing Moments

Life is full of unexpected twists that can lead to life-changing moments. Take a look at these narrative essay titles for stories that have had a lasting impact on your life.

How did meeting a lifelong friend change my life?
What lessons did I learn from overcoming a major obstacle?
How did traveling to a new country broaden my perspective?
Reflecting on the day I discovered my passion.
How did a health scare transform my lifestyle?
What impact did volunteering in my community have on me?
How did I find strength in a moment of loss?
Reflecting on the decision that altered my path.
How did a random act of kindness change my outlook?
What lessons did I learn from a failed endeavor?
How did confronting a fear empower me?
Reflecting on the day I realized my potential.
How did experiencing a natural disaster shape my priorities?
What insights did I gain from a cultural exchange?
How did a mentor's guidance impact my life trajectory?

Have you ever wondered about the challenges of essay writing? What happens when you're assigned a larger paper, like coursework? Make a preemptive strike by exploring coursework writing service right now!

Good Narrative Topics on Travel and Adventure

Consider creating intriguing titles for your narrative essay ideas by exploring thrilling travel adventures.

What was my most unforgettable travel experience?
How did a solo journey change my perspective on life?
Reflecting on an unexpected adventure in a foreign land.
How did traveling on a budget lead to unexpected discoveries?
What lessons did I learn from getting lost in a new city?
How did a cultural immersion experience broaden my understanding of the world?
Reflecting on the friendships formed during a travel adventure.
What was the scariest moment I encountered while traveling?
How did volunteering abroad impact my outlook on life?
What cultural differences surprised me the most while traveling?
Reflecting on the beauty of nature experienced during a hiking trip.
How did traveling to a remote destination challenge my comfort zone?
What was the most delicious food I tried while traveling?
Reflecting on the kindness of strangers encountered during a journey.
How did a travel mishap turn into a memorable experience?

Narrative Essay Topic Ideas on Career and Work Experience

College students can uncover captivating narrative essay ideas by exploring potential career paths or reminiscing about past job experiences.

What was my first job, and what did I learn from it?
Reflecting on a challenging project that taught me resilience.
How did a career setback lead to unexpected opportunities?
What lessons did I learn from transitioning to a new career?
Reflecting on a mentor who influenced my career path.
How did a workplace conflict teach me about communication?
What was the most rewarding moment in my career so far?
Reflecting on the importance of work-life balance in my career journey.
How did networking help me advance in my career?
What challenges did I face as a new graduate entering the workforce?
Reflecting on the decision to pursue a passion versus stability in my career.
How did a career change impact my sense of fulfillment?
What skills did I develop through volunteer work that helped in my career?
Reflecting on the role of mentors in my professional growth.
How did a career milestone shape my future aspirations?

Interesting Narrative Essay Topics about Challenges and Obstacles

If you're not sure what to write about for your narrative essay, think back to the tough times you've had and how you managed to get through them.

How did I overcome my fear of failure?
Reflecting on a time when I felt like giving up but persevered.
How did a personal setback lead to unexpected growth?
What lessons did I learn from navigating a difficult relationship?
Reflecting on a time when I had to step out of my comfort zone.
How did I overcome a major health challenge?
What strategies did I use to overcome procrastination?
Reflecting on the resilience I developed after facing adversity.
How did I navigate financial challenges and come out stronger?
What did I learn from failing at something I was passionate about?
Reflecting on the obstacles I faced while pursuing my dreams.
How did I overcome imposter syndrome in my academic or professional life?
What role did self-care play in helping me overcome challenges?
Reflecting on a time when I had to stand up for myself in the face of adversity.
How did I find motivation and inspiration during tough times?

Final Remarks

As we wrap up, our list of 200 narrative essay topics is here to fuel your creativity for your next writing project! Whether you're sharing a memorable event, reliving a childhood memory, or expressing a profound insight, crafting a narrative essay can be an uplifting experience that resonates deeply with readers.

And if you're gearing up for college admissions, why not check out our admission essay writing service ? We've already assisted countless students in securing their spots at their dream colleges, and we'd love to help you, too!

Give Us Your Task

We provide coursework writing help as well as editing and proofreading. Every paper we deal with is written and triple-checked by a team of experts—which means that you are guaranteed to get top-quality work from our term paper writing service . Order now!

Have a language expert improve your writing

Run a free plagiarism check in 10 minutes, generate accurate citations for free.

Knowledge Base
How to write a narrative essay | Example & tips

How to Write a Narrative Essay | Example & Tips

Published on July 24, 2020 by Jack Caulfield . Revised on July 23, 2023.

A narrative essay tells a story. In most cases, this is a story about a personal experience you had. This type of essay , along with the descriptive essay , allows you to get personal and creative, unlike most academic writing .

Instantly correct all language mistakes in your text

Upload your document to correct all your mistakes in minutes

What is a narrative essay for, choosing a topic, interactive example of a narrative essay, other interesting articles, frequently asked questions about narrative essays.

When assigned a narrative essay, you might find yourself wondering: Why does my teacher want to hear this story? Topics for narrative essays can range from the important to the trivial. Usually the point is not so much the story itself, but the way you tell it.

A narrative essay is a way of testing your ability to tell a story in a clear and interesting way. You’re expected to think about where your story begins and ends, and how to convey it with eye-catching language and a satisfying pace.

These skills are quite different from those needed for formal academic writing. For instance, in a narrative essay the use of the first person (“I”) is encouraged, as is the use of figurative language, dialogue, and suspense.

Here's why students love Scribbr's proofreading services

Discover proofreading & editing

Narrative essay assignments vary widely in the amount of direction you’re given about your topic. You may be assigned quite a specific topic or choice of topics to work with.

Write a story about your first day of school.
Write a story about your favorite holiday destination.

You may also be given prompts that leave you a much wider choice of topic.

Write about an experience where you learned something about yourself.
Write about an achievement you are proud of. What did you accomplish, and how?

In these cases, you might have to think harder to decide what story you want to tell. The best kind of story for a narrative essay is one you can use to talk about a particular theme or lesson, or that takes a surprising turn somewhere along the way.

For example, a trip where everything went according to plan makes for a less interesting story than one where something unexpected happened that you then had to respond to. Choose an experience that might surprise the reader or teach them something.

Narrative essays in college applications

When applying for college , you might be asked to write a narrative essay that expresses something about your personal qualities.

For example, this application prompt from Common App requires you to respond with a narrative essay.

In this context, choose a story that is not only interesting but also expresses the qualities the prompt is looking for—here, resilience and the ability to learn from failure—and frame the story in a way that emphasizes these qualities.

An example of a short narrative essay, responding to the prompt “Write about an experience where you learned something about yourself,” is shown below.

Hover over different parts of the text to see how the structure works.

Since elementary school, I have always favored subjects like science and math over the humanities. My instinct was always to think of these subjects as more solid and serious than classes like English. If there was no right answer, I thought, why bother? But recently I had an experience that taught me my academic interests are more flexible than I had thought: I took my first philosophy class.

Before I entered the classroom, I was skeptical. I waited outside with the other students and wondered what exactly philosophy would involve—I really had no idea. I imagined something pretty abstract: long, stilted conversations pondering the meaning of life. But what I got was something quite different.

A young man in jeans, Mr. Jones—“but you can call me Rob”—was far from the white-haired, buttoned-up old man I had half-expected. And rather than pulling us into pedantic arguments about obscure philosophical points, Rob engaged us on our level. To talk free will, we looked at our own choices. To talk ethics, we looked at dilemmas we had faced ourselves. By the end of class, I’d discovered that questions with no right answer can turn out to be the most interesting ones.

The experience has taught me to look at things a little more “philosophically”—and not just because it was a philosophy class! I learned that if I let go of my preconceptions, I can actually get a lot out of subjects I was previously dismissive of. The class taught me—in more ways than one—to look at things with an open mind.

If you want to know more about AI tools , college essays , or fallacies make sure to check out some of our other articles with explanations and examples or go directly to our tools!

Ad hominem fallacy
Post hoc fallacy
Appeal to authority fallacy
False cause fallacy
Sunk cost fallacy

College essays

Choosing Essay Topic
Write a College Essay
Write a Diversity Essay
College Essay Format & Structure
Comparing and Contrasting in an Essay

(AI) Tools

Grammar Checker
Paraphrasing Tool
Text Summarizer
AI Detector
Plagiarism Checker
Citation Generator

If you’re not given much guidance on what your narrative essay should be about, consider the context and scope of the assignment. What kind of story is relevant, interesting, and possible to tell within the word count?

The best kind of story for a narrative essay is one you can use to reflect on a particular theme or lesson, or that takes a surprising turn somewhere along the way.

Don’t worry too much if your topic seems unoriginal. The point of a narrative essay is how you tell the story and the point you make with it, not the subject of the story itself.

Narrative essays are usually assigned as writing exercises at high school or in university composition classes. They may also form part of a university application.

When you are prompted to tell a story about your own life or experiences, a narrative essay is usually the right response.

The key difference is that a narrative essay is designed to tell a complete story, while a descriptive essay is meant to convey an intense description of a particular place, object, or concept.

Narrative and descriptive essays both allow you to write more personally and creatively than other kinds of essays , and similar writing skills can apply to both.

Cite this Scribbr article

If you want to cite this source, you can copy and paste the citation or click the “Cite this Scribbr article” button to automatically add the citation to our free Citation Generator.

Caulfield, J. (2023, July 23). How to Write a Narrative Essay | Example & Tips. Scribbr. Retrieved April 4, 2024, from https://www.scribbr.com/academic-essay/narrative-essay/

Is this article helpful?

Jack Caulfield

Other students also liked, how to write an expository essay, how to write a descriptive essay | example & tips, how to write your personal statement | strategies & examples, unlimited academic ai-proofreading.

✔ Document error-free in 5minutes ✔ Unlimited document corrections ✔ Specialized in correcting academic texts

351 Life Story Questions to Ask People (Storytelling)

Categories: Family Storytelling , Interviews & Questions
Tags: Questions to Ask

Ask people these 351 life story questions for storytelling.

What questions do you ask people when interviewing them about their life stories? What writing prompts do you use to write their story? In this article, I have included 351-plus writing prompts and questions to interview others and write their stories. They are a little random, but you get an idea of what you can discuss. I would encourage you to add questions that come to you.

Using Open-ended Questions

You will note that many of the questions are open-ended questions. I believe open-ended questions are the best type of questions to ask others. Open-ended questions allow people to tell stories they want to share. An example of open-ended questions are:

What did you like to do when you were a little girl?
What did you do on your first date?
Where do you like to go for a vacation?
Who is your favorite author, and why?
What some of your favorite experiences with your mom and dad?

When I interviewed my dad, I lived in a different state. I asked my dad if I could set up a series of telephone interviews that I could record. I chose to break up the interview into 10 60- to 90-minute sessions over six weeks. Each talk focused on a different time period or topic of his life. At the end of each interview, I outlined what I wanted to cover in the following interview to give my dad time to ponder what stories he wanted to share. During our interviews, he shared many personal stories that I had never heard. We laughed, cried, and shared many precious and tender moments.

I have prepared a couple of other resources that will provide value in interviewing for and writing individual, personal, and family narratives: “ Complete Guide for Conducting Oral History Interviews ” and “ Complete Guide to Writing A Personal Narrative .”

351 Life Story Questions to Ask Others

These 351 writing prompts and questions are part of a 28 article, 108 category series entitled “ 7,500-plus Questions About Life to Ask People When Writing Narratives .” I have divided the writing prompts and questions to ask others into the following categories. Click on the category to be taken to the questions.

Early Years

School years-elementary school, school years-jr. high school, school years-high school, school years-college/university/trade school, grandparents, spouses parents, professional/career, military and war, personal experiences, request for artifacts.

What is your full name, and why were you named that? (Maiden name for females)
Who are your parents and your grandparents? a. Your parents? Please give full names. b. Your grandparents? Please give full names.
What is your place of birth?
What are your birth date and year?
Were you named after someone?
Where did you live during your early years?
What are the earliest memories of your home?
Did you have any nicknames as you were growing up? a. If yes, what would you like to share about the nickname?
What chores did you have as a child? a. What memories do you have about your chores? b. Which chore did you dislike and why?
What kind of books did you like to read? a. Did you have a favorite book or books series? b. Why did you like the books?
What was your nighttime routine for going to bed? a. What memories would you like to share?
Did you have favorite songs that you liked to sing?
Why type of toys did you like to play with as a child?
What types of games did you like to play? a. Indoors? b. Outdoors? c. Boardgames?
What were your favorite foods as a child? Explain. a. Was there ever a time when you did not have enough to eat? Explain.
What did you want to become when you grew up? (e.g., policeman, fireman, nurse, doctor)
Who was the oldest person you remember as a child? a. What do you remember?
Did you ever have any childhood diseases (e.g., measles, mumps, chickenpox) growing up? What do you remember?

Return to questions list.

Where did you go to elementary school?
What was the school like?
Who were your friends in elementary school?
What are your favorite memories about your friends?
Who was your favorite teacher? Why?
Were you ever bullied in elementary school? Explain.
What memories do you have about elementary school?
How did you go to school?
Did you eat lunch at school or go home?
What did you like to play?
What did you like to do after school?
What other memories would you like to share?
Where did you go to school in Jr. High or Middle School?
Who were your friends in Jr. High school?
Were you ever bullied in Jr. High? Explain.
What memories do you have about Jr. High school?
What classes did you like most and why?
What type of classes did you take for your elective classes? (e.g., band, shop, home education)
Did you participate in after-school activities like sports, marching band, cheer or other activities? What are your memories?
Were there any dress fads during your school years?
What other memories about Jr. High would you like to share?
Were you ever given any special awards for your studies or school activities?
Describe yourself in High School.
Where did you go to school in High School?
Who were your friends in High school?
Were you ever bullied in high school? Explain.
What memories do you have of High School?
What classes did you like most and why? Least, and why?
What type of classes did you take for your elective classes?
What kind of grades did you get in your classes?
Did you participate in after-school activities like sports, marching band, cheer or other activities? What memories do you have?
Did you date during High School? What were their names? What memories would you like to share?
What did you wear to school? Describe it.
What other memories about High School would you like to share?
Did you and your friends have special hang-outs where you liked to spend time?
How many years of education have you completed?
Did you attend any school or training after high school?
What can you tell me about your education?
Why did you choose it as your field of study?
Did you graduate? What memories would you like to share?
Describe yourself as a young adult.
Did you date as a youth? a. How older were you had your first date? b. What do you remember about your first date? c. Who was your first date?
When did you first meet your spouse? a. Where was it? b. What do you remember about the first meeting? c. Describe your time dating? d. What attracted you to that person? e. Describe your time together. a. Describe them. f. How long did you know them before you got married? g. Describe your wedding proposal.
Where and when did you get married? (Include date, place, church, etc.)
Describe your wedding day and ceremony.
Who was there? Best Man, Bride’s Maid, other wedding party members?
Did you have a honeymoon? a. Where did you go?
How would you describe your spouse(s)?
What do (did) you admire most about them?
How long have (were) you married?
When and where did your spouse die? a. How died? b. Where buried?
What advice would you give to your child or grandchild on their wedding day?
Have you ever been divorced? What can you share?
Do you have children?
What are their names, birth dates and birthplaces?
What is the story behind each name you gave your children?
Did you adopt any children? a. Can your share your experiences of adoption?
Describe the memory about learning you were going to be a parent for the first time?
What memories do you have about each child?
Describe the personalities of your children.
What are some of the most memorable experiences you had with your children/family?
What memorable experiences did you have with each child?
What is some funny, humorous experience you had with your family?
What were some trying times as a family? Explain? a. What did you do to overcome the time? b. How did it affect your family?
What did you find most challenging about raising children?
What do you consider to be rewarding about being a parent?
How would you describe your parenting style as a parent?
What are the lessons you learned as a parent?
What were your happiest moments as a parent?
Where were your saddest moments as a parent?
What would you like to do over if you could as a parent?
How did you treat each child?
What do you consider to be the most complex decisions you made as a parent?
What do you regret most as a parent?
Who influenced you most as a parent?
What were your happiest moments as a family?
What were your tragic moments as a family?
Did you move as a family? Why and where? a. How did the move affect your family?
How did you first hear that you were a grandparent, and how did you feel about it?
What advice would you pass on to your children/grandchildren?
What can you tell me about your parents? a. What memories would you like to share about your mother? b. What memories would you like to share about your father? c. What memories would you like to share about your parents together?
Did your parents stay together, divorce or pass away? If yes, did they remember? a. What memories would you like to share? b. Did you have any stepparents? c. What memories would you like to share?
Do you remember hearing your parents describe their lives? a. What did they say?
When and where did your parents die? a. What do you remember about it? b. How they died, were hospitalized, buried?
Did your family belong to a religion? If yes, a. Did your parents and grandparents belong to the religion? b. Did you attend a church? c. What do you remember? d. Do you have any experiences you would like to share?
What can you remember about your grandparents? a. What memories would you like to share about each of your grandmothers? b. What memories would you like to share about each of your grandfathers? c. What memories do you have about your grandparents together?
Do you remember hearing your grandparents describe their lives? b. What did they say?
Do you remember your great-grandparents? a. What do you know about them?
Did you have any brothers and sisters? What were their names? a. What memories do you have about your brothers and sisters that you would like to share?
How did your family have fun when you were a child?
Where did your spouse’s parents live? a. What memories do you have about your spouse’s parents?
When and where did your spouse’s parents die? c. What do you remember about it? d. How did they die, were hospitalized, buried?
What details can you remember about the death of your spouse’s parents?
What was your chosen career?
Where did you receive training/education for your career?
How did you decide on a career?
What do you remember about your first job?
Where have you worked? City? Company? a. What were the jobs? b. What do you remember about each job? c. Has work provided a good living? d. Describe a typical day at work? e. What did you like most/least about work?
Did you have more than a career? Explain.
What are some of your most memorable experiences/projects? • Have you retired? When would you like to retire?
Did you serve in the military? a. What branch of the service did you serve? b. Why did you decide to join the military? c. When and where did you serve? d. Where were you trained? e. What was your training?
Where were you stationed during active military duty? a. Describe each post and what you did? b. What are your memories of active duty? c. Do you remember your units? If yes, what were they?
What was your highest rank?
Did you ever serve in the war? Which one (s)? a. WWII, Korean War, Vietnam War, Desert Storm, Iraq and Afghanistan, or other? a. What were the circumstances? b. Were you in a combat or support role? c. What campaigns were you in? What was your role in the campaign?
Would you be willing to share your experiences and memories of war? a. If yes, where would you like to begin? b. Were you injured in war? Explain.
How did your time in the military affect you? Explain.
By what name/nickname do your friends call you? Does the name have a special meaning?
What name are you known by among family?
As you look back on your life, what would you consider to be the most important ____? Why? Explain your memories. a. Inventions? News events? World events? Politics? Technology advances?
Talk about the differences in today’s life compared to the time as a child?
Did you or your family experience events like prohibition, the depression, war? Explain. What do you remember?
Have you had any health problems over the years? a. What were the health issues? b. When did the health issue arise? c. How did they affect your life? d. Where they heredity? e. What are they?
What do you do regularly for exercise?
Have you ever been hospitalized? If so, what for? a. Have you ever had surgery? b. What for? c. Do you or have you ever had habits that you would consider wrong? Explain? d. Do you still have them, or did you overcome them? Explain.
Have you been a victim of crime? a. What happened? b. How did the incident affect your life?
Have you ever been in a severe accident?
Has anyone ever saved your life? a. Describe.
How would you describe yourself politically? b. Are you Conservative or Liberal, and why?
Who would you consider to be your good/best friend (s)? a. What are their names? b. How long have you known them? c. What do you like about them? d. What do you do together? a. What would your friend say about you?
Have you ever met anyone that you would consider being a soul mate or kindred spirit? a. Who were they? b. Explain why you felt a special bond with them?
What were the most (i.e., challenging, meaningful, troubling) decision(s) you have made in your life? Explain. a. What was the outcome? b. Do you consider the outcome to good or bad? Why?
Who do you consider the most influential individuals in your life? a. Who were they? b. What did they do that influenced your life?
What do you consider to be the essential advice you have received in life? a. Did you take that advice? b. What was the outcome? Explain.
Is there anything you would change about yourself? Why? Explain.
Describe moments/memories in your life when you were most stressed?
What do you consider to be the tough times in your life? Why? Explain. a. What helped you get through the period? b. How did the experience affect you for good or bad?
Describe times when you were scared? What happened?
Have you ever played a musical instrument? a. If yes, what kind? Describe your experience.
Are you or would you consider yourself to be creative? Explain.
Have you ever made something for someone else? Explain?
What types of service have you provided others? a. How does it make you feel? b. What were the outcomes of your service?
What are moments in life when others served you? a. What was the most memorable time? b. What were the outcomes of the service?
How would you describe your sense of humor?
Have you ever played a practical joke on someone? a. Describe that experience and what you did.
What type of activities have you enjoyed as an adult? a. Recreation? Hobbies? Personal enrichment? Relaxation? b. What did you like about each activity? c. A most memorable experience with each activity?
When you were not working, what did you like to do?
What would you consider to be the most exciting/wonderful experience in your life?
Did you ever meet anyone famous? Who? a. Describe the experience.
Have you ever belonged to any organizations or groups? a. What the group about? b. What drew you to join the group? c. What are your memorable experiences in the group? d. Are you still a member? If not, explain.
Have you ever been awarded a price or award as an adult? Explain. a. What did you have to do to earn the award?
Describe a time in your life when you felt most happy or at peace? a. Where were you, and what were you doing?
Describe the beautiful place you have ever visited, and what was it like?
Have you ever taken an extended trip or vacation? a. Where did you go? b. What did you do?
What do you consider to be your favorite vacation? a. Where did you go, and why was it special?
Do you have a place that is special to you where you like to visit? a. Where is it? b. Why is the place special? c. Can you share your memories?
Have you ever had a pet? a. What was the animal? b. What was the name of the animal? c. How did the pet become part of your life? d. Do you have a favorite story about your pet?
What is on your bucket list of things still to do? Why?
Is there a time in your life that you would consider to be most memorable?
What or who is your favorite and why: a. Animal? Artist? Athlete? b. Author? Boardgame? Book? c. Candy? Card game? Color? d. Cookie? Desert? Drink? e. Ice cream flavor? Flower? Fruit? f. Holiday? Meal? Movie star? g. Movie? Musical group? Musical instrument? h. Painting? Poem? Poet? i. Restaurant? Season? Singer? j. Song? Sport? Style of music? k. Tree? TV program? Vegetable?
How would you describe each member of your family? a. Mother? b. Father, c. Siblings (brothers/sisters)? d. Children?
Who fits the following descriptions and why? a. Animal lover? Best cook? Best gardener? Best housekeeper? b. Best looking? Best memory? Best storyteller? Biggest tease? c. Calmest? Funniest? Hardest worker? Most athletic? d. Most colorful? Most creative? Most frugal? Most generous? e. Most mischievous? Most politically active? Most reclusive? f. Most relaxed? Most sociable? Quietest? Shortest? g. Tallest? Wildest lifestyle?
Do you have any artifacts like letters, journals, photos, movies, videos or audio recordings of older family members that can help tell your story?
Would you allow me to make copies (e.g., Photograph, scan, read)?

409 Friendship Questions to Ask People (Storytelling)

264 Historical Event Questions to Ask People (Storytelling)
155 Personality Trait Questions to Ask People (Storytelling)
What You Can Learn from an Oral History Interview
7 Step Color-coded Filing System for Storytelling
Meaning of Each Religious Emblem of Belief for U.S. Military Headstones
9 Steps to Writing Your Personal Narrative
How to Create A Christmas Treasure Hunt (Tutorial and Examples)

We love writing stories. The mission of Begin My Story is to help and inspire you to write the stories that matter to you. Every life is a story worth remembering. We believe the stories you write will make a difference and have the power to connect, inspire, challenge, and help us not forget.

Questions to Ask

Thank you for Subscribing!

Close and Return to Site

Crafting Compelling Narrative Essays: Storytelling Techniques for Students

Narrative essays offer a unique platform for students to convey their stories, experiences, and viewpoints. Unlike other forms of academic writing that demand strict adherence to factual information and formal structure, narrative essays provide a creative avenue for personal expression. They allow writers to connect with their readers through the art of storytelling, bringing to life their experiences, observations, and insights. This article aims to guide students in harnessing the power of storytelling to create compelling narrative essays. By mastering certain storytelling techniques, students can transform their essays from mere collections of events to captivating stories that resonate with their audience.

Understanding Narrative Essays

A narrative essay is essentially a story told from a personal perspective. It involves characters, a setting, a plot, and often a moral or conclusion drawn from the events narrated. Unlike expository or argumentative essays, narrative essays typically focus on personal experiences and are less rigid in structure and style. This freedom allows for greater creativity and expression, making them a favorite among students and a common assignment in academic settings.

The essence of a narrative essay lies in its storytelling aspect. It’s not just about presenting facts but about weaving these facts into a coherent and engaging story. The challenge for students is to maintain the balance between being informative and creative, which is where storytelling techniques play a crucial role. A narrative essay should not only inform the reader but also connect with them on an emotional level. This connection is what makes narrative essays stand out and is often what students aim to achieve when they seek help from services like Writepaper , which guides them in crafting impactful narratives.

Storytelling Elements in Narrative Essays

Effective storytelling in narrative essays revolves around several key elements:

1. Character. Every narrative essay needs a protagonist, often the writer themselves. Developing a well-rounded character with relatable traits and emotions is essential for creating a connection with the reader. 2. Setting. The backdrop of the story sets the tone and context. Whether it’s a physical location, a historical period, or a cultural background, the setting can significantly influence the mood of the essay. 3. Plot. This is the sequence of events in the essay. A well-structured plot with a clear beginning, middle, and end helps keep the reader engaged. Including a climax or a turning point makes the narrative more compelling. 4. Conflict. The challenges or problems faced by the characters are crucial in creating suspense and interest. Conflict can be external (against other characters or forces) or internal (within the character’s mind). 5. Resolution. How the conflict is resolved forms the crux of the narrative. The resolution brings closure to the story and often carries the underlying message or moral of the essay. Each of these elements contributes to the overall effectiveness of the narrative essay, making the story engaging and memorable for the reader.

Developing a Strong Narrative Voice

The narrative voice is the perspective through which the story is told, and it plays a crucial role in how the story is received by the reader. A strong, distinctive narrative voice can make an essay stand out. To develop this voice, students should consider the following:

1. Choose the Right Perspective. First-person narratives create intimacy, while third-person narratives offer more flexibility in describing events and characters. 2. Be Authentic. The voice should reflect the writer’s personality and experiences. An authentic voice resonates more with readers. 3. Consider Tone and Style. The tone should match the content of the essay. A serious story might require a formal tone, while a humorous one can be more casual and conversational. Developing a unique narrative voice takes practice, but it significantly impacts the essay’s tone and the reader’s engagement.

Creating Vivid Descriptions

Descriptive language is a powerful tool in narrative essays, enabling writers to create vivid imagery and engage the reader’s senses. Here are some techniques for crafting vivid descriptions:

• Use Sensory Details. Describe what is seen, heard, smelled, tasted, or touched to paint a clear picture in the reader’s mind. • Show, Don’t Tell. Instead of stating facts, show them through descriptions and actions. For example, instead of saying, “It was a stormy night,” describe the howling wind and torrential rain. • Be Specific. General descriptions can be dull. Specific details add depth and authenticity to the narrative. Balancing descriptive writing with the narrative’s pace is key. Overly detailed descriptions can slow down the story, while too few can leave it feeling flat and unengaging.

Building Emotional Connection

An emotional connection with the reader is what elevates a narrative essay from good to great. This connection is achieved when the reader feels invested in the story and can empathize with the characters and their experiences.

Here are strategies to build this connection:

• Use Relatable Experiences. Choose topics or situations that are likely to resonate with your audience. Sharing common human experiences, such as triumphs and failures, can evoke a sense of empathy. • Express Emotions. Clearly expressing the emotions experienced by the characters, especially the narrator, helps readers connect on an emotional level. Show how the events affected the characters emotionally, not just physically. • Create Tension and Release. Building tension, be it through conflict, challenges, or uncertainty, and then providing a release keeps readers engaged and creates an emotional payoff. By focusing on these elements, students can make their narratives more impactful and emotionally engaging, fostering a deeper connection with their readers.

Structuring Your Narrative Essay

A well-structured narrative essay helps maintain clarity and ensures that the story flows logically. The structure typically involves:

1. Introduction. Set the scene and introduce the characters and the premise. Begin with a hook to capture the reader’s attention. 2. Body. This is where the plot unfolds. Describe the events in a logical sequence, and include the conflict and build-up to the climax. 3. Conclusion. Offer a resolution to the conflict and reflect on the story’s significance. End with a closing statement that leaves a lasting impression on the reader. Good structure is essential for guiding the reader through the story without confusion, keeping them engaged from start to finish.

Editing and Refining Your Essay

Editing and refining are crucial stages in crafting a compelling narrative essay. This process involves:

• Reviewing Content. Ensure that all the elements of a good story are present and effectively conveyed. Check for clarity in the narrative and consistency in the characters and plot. • Proofreading. Pay attention to grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. These can distract from the story and affect the essay’s overall quality. • Seeking Feedback. Getting feedback from peers, teachers, or a mentor can provide new insights and help identify areas that need improvement. Editing and refining can transform a good narrative essay into an excellent one, making this stage as important as the initial writing process.

Final Thoughts

Crafting a compelling narrative essay involves more than just recounting events; it requires skillful storytelling, emotional engagement, clear structure, and careful editing. By employing these techniques, students can elevate their narrative essays, making them not just assignments to be completed but stories to be cherished and remembered. Just as one might turn to the best paper writing service for guidance in academic writing, mastering the art of narrative essay writing requires practice, feedback, and a willingness to learn and grow as a storyteller.

In conclusion, narrative essays offer a unique opportunity for students to express themselves creatively and connect with their readers. By utilizing storytelling techniques effectively, students can create essays that are not only academically successful but also personally fulfilling and engaging for their audience.

Skip to main content
Keyboard shortcuts for audio player

Dear Life Kit
Life Skills

LISTEN & FOLLOW
Apple Podcasts
Google Podcasts
Amazon Music

Your support helps make our show possible and unlocks access to our sponsor-free feed.

How to tell a captivating story — from a wedding toast to a job interview

Audrey Nguyen

Illustration of a person manifesting a glowing universe in their hands as they tell a story, creating a world with their words. They are surrounded by four people looking on at their universe in awe.

Our lives are filled with storytelling, from the stories we tell our friends over dinner, to the ones we tell at eulogies, during toasts, at job interviews and on dates.

This acronym will help you give the perfect toast

7 tips on giving a memorable toast for any occasion

"[Stories] make us laugh and they make us feel hope, and they make us feel like it's going to be OK, [like] we're less alone," says Sarah Austin Jenness, the executive producer of The Moth , an organization and podcast dedicated to teaching and promoting the craft of storytelling. Jenness is one of the co-authors of How to Tell a Story: the Essential Guide to Memorable Storytelling from The Moth .

Book cover of "How To Tell a Story: The Essential Guide to Memorable Storytelling from The Moth."

Stories help us relate to each other and build community, say Jenness and her co-author and fellow storytelling coach, Meg Bowles. Leveling up our storytelling game can lead to more meaningful connections.

Here's their step-by-step guide on how to tell a story, from an idea to delivery:

1. Understand that a story is more than a scene or an anecdote.

Does the story you want to tell have a beginning, a middle and an end? Does it have tension? Does it show some sort of transformation? These are the basic elements that make an anecdote blossom into a full-bodied story.

When you're telling a story, you aren't just describing what happened when you walked into the coffee shop and saw your ex on a date. You're telling us how that moment felt emotionally, how you were affected, how you reacted and how you're a different person after having endured that moment.

2. Select a meaningful story.

Each of us has hundreds of stories we could tell. How do we know which one to pursue? "I always say to think back to moments in your life that really shifted you in some way," Bowles says. "Dig in to that."

When you think of a moment, ask yourself, "Why did that moment stick with me? What about that moment was important to me?"

"You start to see patterns of your story arise," says Bowles.

Big decisions are a good place to find stories; so are embarrassing moments and mistakes. Think of a time you did something but it didn't go as planned. Within these kinds of prompts you can begin to explore moments of vulnerability.

If you're not sure how or where to start mining for your own stories, here are some helpful prompts:

If your life were a movie, what's one scene you'll never forget?
What's something someone said to you that you'll never forget?
Tell us about a breakthrough moment.
Tell us about a time you had to follow your heart.
Tell us about a moment you were reunited with something you treasure.

3. Develop your story.

Once you find the story you want to tell, put it under a magnifying glass to blow it up big. Where were you (physically, mentally, emotionally) in that moment? How did it impact your life? What were the results?

Boil your story down to one sentence that helps focus what it's really about. For example, "It took a disaster for me to understand the important role my father played in our community." This will help you decide which details support your main point.

Every family has stories to tell. Here's how to document yours

Remember that in any great story you're not just sharing events that happened, you're also sharing the thoughts and feelings running through you during those events.

4. Figure out the structure.

A good rule of thumb is to start in the action of the story – this will draw people in. From there, ask yourself if you'll tell your story in chronological order, or if you'll start at the end and find your way back to the beginning, or if you want tell it in a series of flashbacks instead of a linear structure.

Don't worry about getting too fancy with the structure – often, telling a story chronologically is the best way to go. "You want to take people through the journey so they can experience what you experienced, " Bowles says.

5. Understand how you've changed by the end.

By this point, you know the moment your story is centered on, what the stakes or tensions are and how you want to tell the story. Writing the ending can be the hardest part.

"Stories in real life usually aren't tied up with a bow," Jenness says. "You just have to end the story in a different place than [where] you began."

The key to a good ending is showing the audience your transformation over the course of the story, even if it's a slight transformation. "There's the 'you' we met in the beginning and the 'you' at the end," she explains.

6. Ask yourself if you're ready to share the story.

If you're considering telling a story rooted in vulnerability or trauma, it's important to consider whether you're emotionally ready to share that story.

Here are some signs you might not be ready to tell a story publicly:

if you get stuck on one scene and aren't able to come out of it because you're reliving it – this can happen with traumatic events and could be a sign of post-traumatic stress disorder.
if it's tough to find an ending to a story, it may mean that you're still living it. You might need to "press pause" and return to the story when you've had more time to process.

7. Before you deliver the story, practice, practice and practice again – but don't memorize it.

It's natural to feel nerves before sharing a story aloud. Become very familiar with your story. Practice enough to be comfortable telling it from memory, but the Moth team recommends that you don't memorize it word for word. If you memorize it verbatim, your delivery can sound stiff and you might go blank.

"Stories are alive and they're meant to sound alive," Bowles says.

A good strategy is to really learn the words you want to use for the beginning and end of your story, but keep your notes in between as bullet points. That way you can naturally fill the gaps, but you have your most important elements well-rehearsed.

"If you go blank on stage, just think, 'What happened next?'" Jenness says. "If you realize you didn't set it up right, you can always say 'Now, what I forgot to tell you about my mom is...' or 'What you really need to know...'"

8. Remember that storytelling is not about the storyteller – it's about connection.

Want To Listen Better? Turn Down Your Thoughts And Tune In To Others

Keep it short and tight. If you're telling a story in a more interactive environment, like over dinner, remember that the purpose of storytelling is to engage with others. It's not about taking the spotlight for the entire time you're with someone. You want to offer a jumping-off point for someone else to share their own story, too.

Want to practice listening and find inspiration? Check out stories heard on The Moth .

Elise Hu is also the host of the TED Talks Daily podcast.

The podcast portion of this story was produced by Audrey Nguyen and Meghan Keane.

We'd love to hear from you. If you have a good life hack, leave us a voicemail at 202-216-9823 or email us at [email protected] . Your tip could appear in an upcoming episode.

If you love Life Kit and want more, subscribe to our newsletter .

Life Kit: Life Skills
storytelling

The New York Times

The learning network | 500 prompts for narrative and personal writing.

500 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/03/10/can-writing-on-a-college-entrance-exam-be-properly-assessed">Related Article</a>

Updated, March 2, 2017 | We published an updated version of this list, “650 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing,” as well as a companion piece, “401 Prompts for Argumentative Writing.”

Every school day since 2009 we’ve asked students a question based on an article in The New York Times. Now, five years later, we’ve collected 500 of them that invite narrative and personal writing and pulled them all together in one place (available here as a PDF ).

The categorized list below touches on everything from sports to travel, education, gender roles, video games, fashion, family, pop culture, social media and more, and, like all our Student Opinion questions , each links to a related Times article and includes a series of follow-up questions. What’s more, all these questions are still open for comment by any student 13 or older.

So dive into this admittedly overwhelming list and pick the questions that most inspire you to tell an interesting story, describe a memorable event, observe the details in your world, imagine a possibility, or reflect on who you are and what you believe.

Childhood Memories

<a href="//well.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/03/11/a-firm-grasp-on-comfort/">Related Article</a><a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/03/10/opinion/sunday/living-with-less-a-lot-less.html"><br /></a>

What Was Your Most Precious Childhood Possession?
What Were Your Favorite Childhood Shows and Characters?
What Were Your Favorite Picture Books When You Were Little?
What Things Did You Create When You Were a Child?
What Places Do You Remember Fondly From Childhood?
Have You Ever Felt Embarrassed by Things You Used to Like?
Do You Wish You Could Return to Moments From Your Past?
Was There a Toy You Wanted as a Child but Never Got?
What Objects Tell the Story of Your Life?
What Are Your Best Sleepover Memories?
What’s the Best Gift You’ve Ever Given or Received?
What’s the Most Memorable Thing You Ever Got in the Mail?
What Nicknames Have You Ever Gotten or Given?

Coming of Age

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/03/01/opinion/sunday/what-you-learn-in-your-40s.html">Related Article</a>

What Have You Learned in Your Teens?
What Personal Achievements Make You Proud?
What Are Some Recent Moments of Happiness in Your Life?
What Are You Grateful For?
What Rites of Passage Have You Participated In?
What Advice Would You Give Younger Kids About Middle or High School?
What Can Older People Learn From Your Generation?
What Do Older Generations Misunderstand About Yours?

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/05/12/opinion/sunday/too-much-helicopter-parenting.html">Related Article</a>

Who Is Your Family?
What Have You and Your Family Accomplished Together?
What Events Have Brought You Closer to Your Family?
What’s Your Role in Your Family?
Have You Ever Changed a Family Member’s Mind?
How Do You Define ‘Family’?
What Are Your Family Stories of Sacrifice?
What Possessions Does Your Family Treasure?
What Hobbies Have Been Passed Down in Your Family?
How Much Do You Know About Your Family’s History?
Did Your Parents Have a Life Before They Had Kids?
How Close Are You to Your Parents?
How Are You and Your Parents Alike and Different?
Do Your Parents Support Your Learning?
What Have Your Parents Taught You About Money?
Do You Expect Your Parents to Give You Money?
How Permissive Are Your Parents?
Do You Have Helicopter Parents?
How Do Your Parents Teach You to Behave?
How Do You Make Parenting Difficult for Your Parents?
If You Drink or Use Drugs, Do Your Parents Know?
Do You Talk About Report Cards With Your Parents?
Would You Mind if Your Parents Blogged About You?
How Well Do You Get Along With Your Siblings?
How Well Do You Know Your Pet?
What Role Do Pets Play in Your Family?
What Is Your Racial and Ethnic Identity?
Have You Ever Tried to Hide Your Racial or Ethnic Identity?
How Do You Feel About Your Last Name?
What’s the Story Behind Your Name?
What Are Your Favorite Names?
How Have You Paid Tribute to Loved Ones?

Community and Home

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/10/20/opinion/sunday/here-comes-the-neighborhood.html">Related Article</a><a href="//learning.blogs.nytimes.com/category/lesson-plans/"></a>

Would You Most Want to Live in a City, a Suburb or the Country?
How Much Does Your Neighborhood Define Who You Are?
What’s Special About Your Hometown?
What Would You Name Your Neighborhood?
Who Is the ‘Mayor’ of Your School or Neighborhood?
Who Are the ‘Characters’ That Make Your Town Interesting?
What Would a TV Show About Your Town Spoof?
What ‘Urban Legends’ Are There About Places in Your Area?
What Local Problems Do You Think Your Mayor Should Try to Solve?
Do You Know Your Way Around Your City or Town?
Have You Ever Interacted With the Police?
How Often Do You Interact With People of Another Race or Ethnicity?
Who Would Be the Ideal Celebrity Neighbor?
What Is Your Favorite Place?
How Much Time Do You Spend in Nature?
What Small Things Have You Seen and Taken Note Of Today?
What Would Your Dream Home Be Like?
What is Your Favorite Place in Your House?
How Important Is Keeping a Clean House?
Is Your Bedroom a Nightmare?
Do You Plan on Saving Any of Your Belongings for the Future?
With Your Home in Danger, What Would You Try to Save?
What Would You Put in Your Emergency ‘Go-Bag’?
Have You Ever Lost (or Found) Something Valuable?

Personality

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2009/08/29/business/29shortcuts.html">Related Article</a>

What Is Your Personal Credo?
What Motivates You?
What Makes You Happy?
What Are You Good At?
How Much Self-Control Do You Have?
How Good Are You at Waiting for What You Really Want?
What Role Does Procrastination Play in Your Life?
When in Your Life Have You Been a Leader?
How Well Do You Perform Under Pressure?
How Well Do You Take Criticism?
Are You Hard or Easy on Yourself?
How Full Is Your Glass?
Do You Have a Hard Time Making Decisions?
How Good Are You at Time Management?
How Productive and Organized Are You?
How Would Your Life Be Different if You Had Better Listening Skills?
How Competitive Are You?
Do You Perform Better When You’re Competing or When You’re Collaborating?
Do You Take More Risks When You Are Around Your Friends?
Do You Unknowingly Submit to Peer Pressure?
How Much of a Daredevil Are You?
What Pranks, Jokes, Hoaxes or Tricks Have You Ever Fallen For or Perpetrated?
How Do You React When Provoked?
How Often Do You Cry?
Do You Think You’re Brave?
What Are You Afraid Of?
What Are Your Fears and Phobias?
What Are Your Personal Superstitions?
Do You Like Being Alone?
How Impulsive Are You?
Are You a Novelty-Seeker?
What Annoys You?
Do You Apologize Too Much?
Do You Have Good Manners?
Are You a Saver or a Tosser?
Are You More Introvert or Extrovert?
Are You Popular, Quirky or Conformist?
Are You a Nerd or a Geek?
What Would Your Personal Mascot Be?
What Assumptions Do People Make About You?

Overcoming Adversity

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/03/23/opinion/sunday/what-id-say-to-my-fat-son.html">Related Article</a>

What Challenges Have You Overcome?
What Do You Do When You Encounter Obstacles to Success?
What Are Your Secret Survival Strategies?
How Do You Find Peace in Your Life?
How Have You Handled Being the ‘New Kid’?
Do You Ever Feel Overlooked and Underappreciated?
How Stressed Are You?
How Do You Relieve Stress?
Does Stress Affect Your Ability to Make Good Decisions?
What Challenges Have You Set for Yourself?
How Often Do You Leave Your ‘Comfort Zone’?
What Did You Once Hate but Now Like?
Does Your Life Leave You Enough Time to Relax?
Do You Set Rules for Yourself About How You Use Your Time?
Is ‘Doing Nothing’ a Good Use of Your Time?
What’s Cluttering Up Your Life?
What Work Went Into Reaching Your Most Difficult Goals?
When Have You Ever Failed at Something? What Happened as a Result?
When Have You Ever Succeeded When You Thought You Might Fail?
What Life Lessons Has Adversity Taught You?
What’s the Most Challenging Assignment You’ve Ever Had?
What Kind of Feedback Helps You Improve?
Is Trying Too Hard to Be Happy Making You Sad?
Do Adults Who Are ‘Only Trying to Help’ Sometimes Make Things Worse?
What Are Five Everyday Problems That Bother You, and What Can You Do About Them?

Gender and Sexuality

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/10/01/nyregion/city-unveils-a-campaign-to-improve-girls-self-esteem.html">Related Article</a><a href="//learning.blogs.nytimes.com/tag/tyell/"></a>

How Do Male and Female Roles Differ in Your Family?
Do Parents Have Different Hopes and Standards for Their Sons Than for Their Daughters?
Is There Too Much Pressure on Girls to Have ‘Perfect’ Bodies?
How Much Pressure Do Boys Face to Have the Perfect Body?
How Did You Learn About Sex?
How Should Parents Address Internet Pornography?
What Experiences Have You Had With Gender Bias in School?
What Have Been Your Experiences With Catcalling or Other Kinds of Street Harassment?
Do You Know Boys Who Regard Girls as ‘Prey’?
Do You Consider Yourself a Feminist?

Morality and Religion

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/10/19/opinion/sunday/does-everything-happen-for-a-reason.html">Related Article </a>

How Do You Help?
What Ethical Dilemmas Have You Faced?
Would You Help an Injured Stranger?
When Is the Last Time You Did Something Nice for a Stranger?
Have You Ever ‘Paid It Forward’?
How Much Do You Gossip?
How Comfortable Are You With Lying?
Have You Ever Taken Something You Weren’t Supposed To?
What Could You Live Without?
Do You Ever Feel Guilty About What, or How Much, You Throw Away?
Do You Ever Eavesdrop?
How Important Is Your Spiritual Life?
Do You Believe That Everything Happens for a Reason?
Can You Be Good Without God?
Are You Less Religious Than Your Parents?
Can You Pass a Basic Religion Test?
What Can You Learn From Other Religions?

Role Models

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/10/12/jobs/drowning-in-dishes-but-finding-a-home.html">Related Article</a>

Who Is Your Role Model?
Who Are Your Heroes?
Who Inspires You?
What’s the Best Advice You’ve Gotten?
Who Outside Your Family Has Made a Difference in Your Life?
If You Had Your Own Talk Show, Whom Would You Want to Interview?
To Whom, or What, Would You Like to Write a Thank-You Note?
What Leader Would You Invite to Speak at Your School?
What Six People, Living or Dead, Would You Invite to Dinner?

Technology and Video Games

Are You Distracted by Technology?
Do You Always Have Your Phone or Tablet at Your Side?
What Tech Tools Play the Biggest Role in Your Life?
What New Technologies or Tech Toys Are You Most Excited About?
To What Piece of Technology Would You Write a ‘Love Letter’?
Does Your Digital Life Have Side Effects?
Do Apps Help You or Just Waste Your Time?
Do You Spend Too Much Time on Smart Phones Playing ‘Stupid Games’?
When Do You Choose Making a Phone Call Over Sending a Text?
Do You Know How to Code? Would You Like to Learn?
Whom Would You Share Your Passwords With?
What Are Your Favorite Video Games?
What Have You Learned Playing Video Games?
Do You Play Violent Video Games?
When Should You Feel Guilty for Killing Zombies?
Who Are Your Opponents in Online Gaming?
Do You Like Watching Other People Play Video Games?

The Internet

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/interactive/2013/04/23/science/super-awesome-sylvia-video-grid.html#index">Related Article</a>

How Careful Are You Online?
Do You Ever Seek Advice on the Internet?
How Do You Know if What You Read Online Is True?
How Much Do You Trust Online Reviews?
How Do You Use Wikipedia?
What Are Your Favorite Internet Spoofs?
What Are Your Favorite Viral Videos?
What Would You Teach the World in an Online Video?
What Are Your Experiences With Internet-Based Urban Legends?
What Story Does Your Personal Data Tell?
Do You Worry About the Lack of Anonymity in the Digital Age?
Do You Wish You Had More Privacy Online?
California Notice
Have You Ever Been Scammed?

Social Media

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/01/09/booming/in-your-face-book-heres-the-party-you-werent-invited-to.html">Related Article<br /></a>

How Do You Use Facebook?
What Is Your Facebook Persona?
What Memorable Experiences Have You Had on Facebook?
Does Facebook Ever Make You Feel Bad?
Would You Consider Deleting Your Facebook Account?
Do You Have ‘Instagram Envy’?
Do You Use Twitter?
Why Do You Share Photos?
How Do You Archive Your Life?
Have You Ever Posted, Emailed or Texted Something You Wish You Could Take Back?
Have You Ever Sent an Odd Message Because of Auto-Correct?
Would You Want Your Photo or Video to Go Viral?
Do You Worry Colleges or Employers Might Read Your Social Media Posts Someday?

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/01/08/nyregion/seeking-clues-to-gangs-and-crime-detectives-monitor-internet-rap-videos.html">Related Article</a>

What Are You Listening To?
Who in Your Life Introduces You to New Music?
How Much Is Your Taste in Music Based on What Your Friends Like?
What Music Inspires You?
How Closely Do You Listen to Lyrics?
Which Pop Music Stars Fascinate You?
Who Is Your Favorite Pop Diva?
What’s Your Karaoke Song?
What Song/Artist Pairings Would You Like to Hear?

Movies, Theater and Television

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/04/27/movies/from-internet-chat-to-related-projects-mean-girls-endures.html">Related Article</a>

What Were the Best Movies You Saw in the Past Year?
What Movies Do You Watch, or Reference, Over and Over?
What Movies, Shows or Books Do You Wish Had Sequels, Spinoffs or New Episodes?
Do You Like Horror Movies?
Who Are Your Favorite Movie Stars?
Would You Pay Extra for a 3-D Movie?
What Is Your Favorite Comedy?
What Are the Best Live Theatrical Performances You’ve Ever Seen?
Have You Ever Stumbled Upon a Cool Public Performance?
What Role Does Television Play in Your Life and the Life of Your Family?
What Television Shows Have Mattered to You?
Do Your Television Viewing Habits Include ‘Binge-Watching’?
How Often Do You Watch a Television Show When It Originally Airs?
What Old Television Shows Would You Bring Back?
Why Do We Like Reality Shows So Much?
What Ideas Do You Have for a Reality Show?
What Are Your Favorite Commercials?
How Much Are You Influenced by Advertising?

Reading, Writing and Fine Arts

Read Any Good Books Lately?
Do You Read for Pleasure?
What Are Your Favorite Books and Authors?
What Are the Best Things You’ve Read, Watched, Heard or Played This Year?
What Are Your Favorite Young Adult Novels?
What’s on Your Summer Reading List?
What Memorable Poetry Have You Ever Read or Heard?
What Are Your Favorite Cartoons?
What Magazines Do You Read, and How Do You Read Them?
Do You Enjoy Reading Tabloid Gossip?
When Have You Seen Yourself and Your Life Reflected in a Book or Other Media?
Do You Prefer Your Children’s Book Characters Obedient or Contrary?
Do You Read E-Books?
Would You Trade Your Paper Books for Digital Versions?
To What Writer Would You Award a Prize?
Why Do You Write?
Do You Keep a Diary or Journal?
Do You Have a Blog?
Do You Want to Write a Book?
When Do You Write by Hand?
Do You Write in Cursive?
Do You Write in Your Books?
What ‘Mundane Moments’ From Your Life Might Make Great Essay Material?
What’s the Coolest Thing You’ve Ever Seen in a Museum?
What Are the Most Memorable Works of Visual Art You Have Seen?
What Are Your Favorite Works of Art?

Language and Speech

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/04/06/opinion/sunday/like-degrading-the-language-no-way.html">Related Article</a>

What Are Your Favorite and Least Favorite Words?
What Words or Phrases Do You Think Are Overused?
How Much Slang Do You Use? What Are Your Favorite (Printable) Words?
How Much Do You Curse? Why?
Why Do So Many People Say ‘Like’ and ‘Totally’ All the Time?
Do You Sometimes ‘Hide’ Behind Irony?
How Good Is Your Grammar?
What New Emoticons Does the World Need?
Are You Fluent in Vocal Fry, Creaky Voice or Uptalk?
How Much Information Is ‘Too Much Information’?
When Did You Last Have a Great Conversation?
Do You Speak a Second, or Third, Language?
When Do You Remember Learning a New Word?

School and Teachers

<a href="//well.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/10/06/better-ways-to-learn/">Related Article</a>

Do You Like School?
What Are You Really Learning at School?
What Are You Looking Forward To, or Dreading, This School Year?
Would You Want to Be Home-Schooled?
Would You Like to Take a Class Online?
Would You Rather Attend a Public or a Private High School?
How Would You Grade Your School?
What Can Other Schools Learn — and Copy — From Your School?
Is Your School Day Too Short?
What Do You Hope to Get Out of High School?
Do You Have Too Much Homework?
Does Your Homework Help You Learn?
What Is Your Best Subject?
What Memorable Experiences Have You Had in Learning Science or Math?
Are You Afraid of Math?
Do We Need a New Way to Teach Math?
What Are the Best Ways to Learn About History?
How Would You Do on a Civics Test?
How Important Is Arts Education?
What Is Your Most Memorable Writing Assignment?
What Would You Like to Have Memorized?
Does Your School Value Students’ Digital Skills?
What Was Your Favorite Field Trip?
Do You Participate in Class?
What Are Your Best Tips for Studying?
Do You Use Study Guides?
Is Everything You’ve Been Taught About Study Habits Wrong?
How Well Do You Think Standardized Tests Measure Your Abilities?
Do You Have a Tutor?
Are Your Grades Inflated?
When Has a Teacher Inspired You?
What Teacher Do You Appreciate?
What Teacher Would You Like to Thank?
What Do You Wish Your Teachers Knew About You?
Do Your Test Scores Reflect How Good Your Teachers Are?
Do Your Teachers Use Technology Well?

School Social Environment

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2013/04/02/us/20130403_RESTORATIVE.html">Related Article</a>

What Role Do School Clubs and Teams Play in Your Life?
Who Has the Power in School Social Life?
How Big a Problem Is Bullying or Cyberbullying in Your School or Community?
Does Your School Seem Integrated?
What’s the Racial Makeup of Your School?
Do You Ever ‘Mix It Up’ and Socialize With Different People at School?
Can Students at Your School Talk Openly About Their Mental Health Issues?
Is Your School a ‘Party School’?
How Common Is Drug Use in Your School?
Do You Know People Who Cheat on High-Stakes Tests?
How Does Your School Deal With Students Who Misbehave?
How Much Does Your Life in School Intersect With Your Life Outside School?
Would You Ever Go Through Hazing to Be Part of a Group?

Senior Year, College and Applications

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/03/31/opinion/sunday/a-simple-way-to-send-poor-kids-to-top-colleges.html">Related Article</a>

Where Do You Want to Go to College?
What Are Your Sources for Information About Colleges and Universities?
Is College Overrated?
How Much Does the SAT or ACT Matter in Your Life?
What Personal Essay Topic Would You Assign to College Applicants?
What Qualities Would You Look For in a College Roommate?
What Would You Do With a Gap Year?
What Makes a Graduation Ceremony Memorable?
How Do You Feel About Proms?

Work and Careers

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/02/24/business/high-debt-and-falling-demand-trap-new-veterinarians.html">Related Article</a>

What Are Your Longtime Interests or Passions?
Do You Have a Life Calling?
What Do You Want to Do With Your Life?
Do You Think You Will Have a Career That You Love?
What Investment Are You Willing to Make to Get Your Dream Job?
Would You Consider a Nontraditional Occupation?
Would You Want to Be a Teacher?
What Hidden Talents Might You Have?
What Do You Hope to Be Doing the Year After You Graduate From College?
Would You Rather Work From Home or in an Office?
What Career or Technical Classes Do You Wish Your School Offered?
What ‘Back-to-the-Land’ Skills Do You Have, or Wish You Had?
What Have You Made Yourself?
What Would You Create if You Had Funding?
How Did You Start Doing Something You Love?
Did You Ever Take a Break From Doing Something You Love?
What Have You Done to Earn Money?
Do You Have a Job?
Would You Quit if Your Values Did Not Match Your Employer’s?
What Are Your Attitudes Toward Money?
Can Money Buy You Happiness?
Where Do You See Yourself in 10 Years?
What Do You Want to Be Doing When You’re 80?
Do You Want to Live to 100?
What Do You Want Your Obituary to Say?

Dating and Friendship

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/10/26/fashion/the-etiquette-for-having-your-friends-befriend-each-other.html">Related Article</a>

Have You Ever Been in Love?
What Are the Most Meaningful Relationships in Your Life?
What Advice Would You Give to Somebody Who Just Started Dating?
What Are the Basic ‘Rules’ for Handling Breakups?
What Are Your Beliefs About Marriage?
Are You Allowed to Date?
Is Dating a Thing of the Past?
Do You Have a Best Friend?
How Do You Feel About Introducing Friends from Different Parts of Your Life?
How Should You Handle the End of a Friendship?
How Often Do You Have ‘Deep Discussions’?

Sports, Exercise and Games

<a href="//well.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/04/09/are-you-programmed-to-enjoy-exercise/">Related Article</a>

Do You Like to Exercise?
How Has Exercise Changed Your Health, Your Body or Your Life?
Why Do You Play Sports?
What Is the Most Memorable Sporting Event You’ve Ever Watched or Played In?
What’s the Most Impressive Sports Moment You’ve Seen?
When Has a Sports Team Most Disappointed You?
What Sports Teams Do You Root For?
Does Being a Fan Help Define Who You Are?
How Far Would You Go to Express Loyalty to Your Favorite Teams?
What Fan Memorabilia Would You Pay Big Bucks For?
What Rules Would You Like to See Changed in Your Favorite Sports?
What Game Would You Like to Redesign?
What Are Your Favorite Games?

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/01/10/travel/2014-places-to-go.html">Related Article</a>

Where in the World Would You Travel if You Could?
What Is Your Fantasy Vacation?
What Would Your Fantasy Road Trip Be Like?
What Crazy Adventure Would You Want to Take?
How Has Travel Affected You?
What Famous Landmarks Have You Visited?
What’s the Coolest Thing You’ve Ever Seen in Nature?
What Are the Best Souvenirs You’ve Ever Collected While Traveling?
Would You Like to Live in Another Country?
Would You Want to Be a Space Tourist?

Looks, Fashion and Health

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2014/01/12/opinion/sunday/goodnight-sleep-clean.html">Related Article</a>

What Does Your Hairstyle Say About You?
How Far Would You Go for Fashion?
What Are the Hot Fashion Trends at Your School Right Now?
Do You Have a Signature Clothing Item?
Has Anyone Ever Said That You Look Like Someone Famous?
Would You Ever Consider Getting a Tattoo?
What Are Your Opinions on Cosmetic Surgery?
Do Photoshopped Images Make You Feel Bad About Your Own Looks?
What Are Your Sleep Habits?
How Much of a Priority Do You Make Sleep?
Do You Get Enough Sleep?
What Health Tips Have Worked for You?

Shopping and Driving

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/05/14/us/report-finds-americans-are-driving-less-led-by-youth.html">Related Article</a>

What’s Your Favorite Store? Why?
To What Company Would You Write a Letter of Complaint or Admiration?
To What Business Would You Like to Give Advice?
How Would You Make Over Your Mall?
Do You Shop at Locally Owned Businesses?
What Are the Best Things You’ve Acquired Secondhand?
How Important Is It to Have a Driver’s License?
Are You a Good Driver?

Food and Eating

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/02/06/dining/the-best-in-the-box-chocolate-covered-salted-caramels-for-valentines-day.html">Related Article</a>

What Are the Most Memorable Meals You’ve Ever Had?
What’s Your Favorite Holiday Food Memory?
What’s Your Comfort Food?
What Are Your Favorite Junk Foods?
What Food Would You Like to Judge in a Taste-Off?
Do You Prefer Your Tacos ‘Authentic’ or ‘Appropriated’?
Do You Pay Attention to Nutrition Labels on Food?
How Concerned Are You About Where Your Food Comes From?
Are Your Eating Habits Healthy?
What Are Your ‘Food Rules’?
Do You Eat Too Quickly?
What Do You Eat During the School Day?
Do You Eat Cafeteria Food?
How Much Food Does Your Family Waste?
What Messages About Food and Eating Have You Learned From Your Family?
What’s Your Favorite Restaurant?
What Restaurant Would You Most Like to Review?
Do You Cook?
What Would You Most Like to Learn to Cook or Bake?

Holidays, Seasons, Weather and Weekends

<a href="//rendezvous.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/18/home-for-the-holidays-or-not-tell-us-your-stories/">Related Article</a><a href="//learning.blogs.nytimes.com/category/student-opinion/"><br /></a>

How Can People Make the Most of Long Holiday Weekends?
What’s Your Sunday Routine?
What’s on Your Fall Fashion Shopping List?
Will You Be Wearing a Halloween Costume This Year?
Do You Like Scary Movies and Books?
Do You Believe in Ghosts?
What Are Your Thanksgiving Traditions?
What Are Your Tips for Enjoying the Holiday Season?
How Will You Spend the Holiday Break?
Do You Make New Year’s Resolutions?
How Do You Fight the Winter Blues?
What Are Your Experiences With Severe Weather?
How Do You Feel About Valentine’s Day?
How Do You Celebrate Spring?
What Would Your Fantasy Spring Break Be Like?
How Careful Are You in the Sun?
What Are You Looking Forward to This Summer?
What Would Your Ideal Summer Camp Be Like?
What Are Your Favorite Summer Hangouts?
What’s Your Favorite Summer Food?
What Is Your Favorite Summer Movie?
Do You Have a Summer Job?
Do You Choose Summer Activities to Look Good on Applications?
What Are the Best Things You Did This Summer?
How Do You Prepare to Go Back to School?

Beliefs, Politics and Current Events

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/11/14/health/new-tool-to-ease-difficult-births-a-plastic-bag.html">Related Article</a>

How Would You Like to Help Our World?
What Cause Would Get You Into the Streets?
What Would You Risk Your Life For?
When Have You Spoken Out About Something You Felt Had to Change?
What Would You Invent to Make the World a Better Place?
How Do You Feel About Zoos?
What Is Your Relationship With Guns?
Do You Trust Your Government?
Do You Know Your First Amendment Rights?
Do You Worry About Terrorism?
Do You Believe in Intelligent Alien Life?
Given Unlimited Resources, What Scientific or Medical Problem Would You Investigate?
What Would You Do if You Were President?
Would You Vote This Year if You Could?
Do You Consider Yourself a Republican, Democrat or Independent?
What Event in the Past Do You Wish You Could Have Witnessed?
What Are the Most Important Changes, in Your Life and in the World, in the Last Decade?
What Do You Remember About Sept. 11, 2001?
What News Stories Are You Following?
How Do You Get Your News?
Why Should We Care About Events in Other Parts of the World?
What Questions Do You Have About How the World Works?
What Big Questions Do You Have?

If Only…

<a href="//www.nytimes.com/2013/11/10/magazine/outsource-your-way-to-success.html">Related Article</a><a href="//learning.blogs.nytimes.com/category/current-events/"><br /></a>

What Would You Do if You Won the Lottery?
What Superpower Do You Wish You Had?
What Era Do You Wish You Had Lived In?
Would You Want to Be a Tween or Teen Star?
Would You Want to Grow Up in the Public Eye?
What Kind of Robot Would You Want?
What Would You Outsource if You Could?
What Would You Like to Learn on Your Own?
What Would You Wait in Line For?

This resource may be used to address the academic standards listed below.

Common Core E.L.A. Anchor Standards

3 Write narratives to develop real or imagined experiences or events using effective technique, well-chosen details and well-structured event sequences.

Comments are no longer being accepted.

This is such a fabulous resource for inspiration! Thank you so much for putting this list together. I’ll refer to it often and share it with my readers on my poetry and writing blog.

These are great writing prompts. These remind me of the questions on StoryShelter.com. It’s nice to write there and have all your personal stories in one place where you can share them with friends or post anonymously. Anyone who does narrative or personal writing will find it really useful.

For example, this is how a bunch of people answered the question: “What would you do if you won the lottery?” https://www.storyshelter.com/question/what-if-i-won-the-lottery

Cool, right?

Wonderful list! The topics are thought-provoking and exciting to write. I can go writing on and on, on these topics.

How much do you know about your family history?

I know a little bit about my family history. My grandma talks about our religion sometimes, not every day. So I get to hear some facts about my religion. For example what we do on New Year’s or what happened when I wasn’t born yet. My family history is very interesting.

My mom she is Cambodian and my dad is Thai so I’m mixed Asian. Everybody say that I mostly look like my dad than my mom, and that’s interesting to me.

My dad side of the family, my great great grandma, grandpa and aunts and uncles. They are living in Thailand. I want to go to Thailand really bad. My mom side of the family, my great great grandpa, grandma and my grandma siblings. They are living in Cambodia. My grandma took some pictures in Asia. It looks so different than the United States of America.

So first off, my dad he was born in Thailand and my mom I think she was born in Cambodia. She said that she didn’t went to Cambodia so I really don’t know. So my family (parents, grandparents, aunts and uncle immigrated to the United States of America and became citizens. That time they lived in Stockton, California. I could of live there still. But my dad he went to school in New Hampshire and got a job here and the job over here paid a lot more money than California. So Then my mom side of the family came with my parents, and my dad side of the family stayed in California that was in the 1990s when they moved to New Hampshire. Then they separated, so now we don’t live together anymore.

Now my aunt lives in Massachusetts and my other aunt lives in Rhode Island. So when my parents lived in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, I wasn’t born yet. But I wish that we still lived in California. So we

My life is interesting to me. I have families in Cambodia and Thailand, and I haven’t met them yet. Also the things we do on New Year’s and other occasions. So that’s what I know about my family history.

Very interesting

OMG!! Where have you been all my life I am very excited about this!!

I wish I was more of a journaler. These are some fantastic prompts for writing personal stories. With 500 listed here, there’s no way you wouldn’t find an inspiring prompt.

I’m more of a fiction writer, and I’ve chosen to write prompts that help fiction writers expand their imagination.

What's Next

You are using an outdated browser. Please upgrade your browser to improve your experience.

from training.npr.org: https://training.npr.org/2016/12/13/beyond-the-5ws-what-should-you-ask-before-starting-a-story/

Style Guide

Beyond the 5 W's: What should you ask before starting a story?

More on Audio
Subscribe to Audio

We all know the classic “5 W” questions journalists ask: Who, what, where, when, why (and bonus, “how”). But you should also consider the six additional questions listed below, which complement those fundamentals. They are informed by journalism but focused on storytelling.

Your answers to these questions may change in the process of reporting. That is OK. The idea is not to set a course and refuse to veer from it, but rather to make a creative investment at the beginning of your story process that will help guide you to the end of it.

Print this poster out! Here’s a PDF . (Illustrations by Chris Kindred )

What is my story’s driving question?

You may be accustomed to writing a focus statement. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m partial to questions instead of statements. A question gives you a mission; a puzzle to solve. The process of answering that question focuses your reporting and allows your story to become a journey for the listener or reader. (For example, “ Why are members of the state legislature voting to give themselves a raise?”)

Beware: If you have multiple questions, you probably have multiple stories. Stick to one and answer it well. Your audience will stay with you.

What is the story not about?

Too often, we bite off far more than we can chew in our stories. It’s understandable. We feel an obligation to be comprehensive and we fear the consequences of leaving out a detail. But no story — not even an hour-long documentary or a New Yorker -length essay — can encompass an entire topic.

Our first job is to communicate clearly and memorably — and that requires leaving things out . So make a list of the angles, questions and context you can cut. Test them against your driving question: Will this help to answer the question for listeners? Will it distract, or diffuse, the focus? And then, release yourself from this sense of obligation (editors, you must help reporters do this). Let yourself tell the most focused story possible.

How will I ensure my story is fair to the people and ideas it represents?

As journalists, we understand the importance of fairness. NPR’s Ethics Handbook is a great guide . As storytellers, achieving fairness can feel more complicated. A narrative may be stronger if it presents one person’s journey, instead of multiple perspectives. And yet, is that fair?

Related reading Exercise: Imagining your story How audio stories begin A good lead is hard: Here’s how to write a good one

First of all, ask yourself if your story is transparent enough. Does it make clear to the audience that different viewpoints exist, even if it doesn’t delve into them?

Secondly, seek tension. Stories that present one viewpoint often lack the tension that a compelling story needs. So even if you are focusing on one person or situation, ask yourself where the conflict resides. (If there is no conflict or tension, or nothing significant is at stake, you may not have a story.)

Finally, remember that fairness can be achieved across coverage. Each story can’t present all viewpoints equally, but comprehensive coverage can. Tell your audience where related stories can be found and be transparent about your editorial approach.

How will I engage my audience — and hold them?

Always try to put yourself in your audience’s shoes. Just saying an issue is important or the stakes are high rarely gets the job done.

How can you illustrate it in a way that’s interesting? Why would your audience want to listen to or read this? Is there a big, compelling idea? A character whose story should be prioritized? An emotional or intellectual thread that can run throughout the story? Are there ear- or eye-grabbing ways to attract the audience? This is your chance to think creatively about story and storytelling.

What are my dream ingredients?

Imagining the elements of your story ahead of time is a time-honored approach. It helps you conceive your story and plan your reporting.

What voices are essential? What complicated issue must be explained? What quotes will clearly address your driving question? What moment or scene will make the story unforgettable? What transition will tie the pieces together? What will give the story personality?

Think big. Of course, you can’t produce all the ingredients you want and many of the best ones should be serendipitous or results of reporting — but thinking about them ahead of time helps you reach for the best story you can tell.

What will the audience remember when it’s over?

This is a great thought experiment that keeps in mind the limitations of the audience. We rarely remember entire stories; more often, it’s particular quotes, scenes, characters or ideas.

So put yourself in the shoes of that listener in her car or walking down the street with earbuds. She has just finished your story. What is she thinking about? Is she left with a question to ponder? A new way of seeing her neighborhood or her city or her country? An idea that expands her thinking?

You can build your stories to have the impact you want them to have — by keeping in mind what you want the audience to remember and working towards it as you report, write and produce. (And yes, you should always be prepared to pivot when you learn new things in the course of your reporting.)

A final note

Don’t feel there are natural answers to these questions floating out in the ether, if only you can grasp them. There aren’t. Answering these questions is all about you making choices . Liberate yourselves to make them.

Alison MacAdam was a Senior Editorial Specialist with the NPR Training team, where she focused on audio storytelling. Prior to that, she edited All Things Considered.

Editing & Structure Reporting Writing & Voice

We have a newsletter. Subscribe!

The Handmaid's Tale

By margaret atwood, the handmaid's tale essay questions.

Throughout The Handmaid's Tale Offred considers the multiple meanings and connotations of specific words. What might Atwood be suggesting about the flexibility or lack of specificity of language? What does this obsession with words convey about Offred's character or situation?

How does the Gileadean government use the constant potential of surveillance to keep its citizens in line? Do you think Offred should have taken more risks to better her situation, or was she doing the best she could given the circumstances?

In an interview, Atwood said that "This is a book about what happens when certain casually held attitudes about women are taken to their logical conclusions. For example, I explore a number of conservative opinions still held by many - such as a woman's place is in the home. And also certain feminist pronouncements - women prefer the company of other women, for example. Take these beliefs to their logical ends and see what happens."

How does the world of Gilead contain elements of extremely conservative, religious beliefs, as well as elements of more liberal, feminist beliefs? Do you think Atwood accomplished her goal?

How is The Handmaid's Tale a novel about the writing process? What issues of storytelling does Offred raise in the Tale , and how does she choose to resolve or sidestep those issues?

One of the main goals of the Gilead Regime seems to be to control and regulate sex and sexuality. Do you think they succeed? Are sexual relations more ordered and "normalized" under the new regime?

When the Doctor suggests that he help Offred conceive, she rejects his offer, even though she knows she is unlikely to be caught. When Serena Joy offers to help her, she says yes almost immediately, despite her serious lack of trust for Serena Joy and the immense amount of power Serena Joy has over her. Why do you think she accepts Serena Joy's offer rather than the Doctor's?

The Handmaid's Tale is set in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and most of the buildings and landmarks mentioned throughout the novel are parts of Harvard University. Why might Atwood have chosen a major university as the headquarters of this new regime? In your answer, consider the relationship between knowledge and control.

Explain the meaning of "particicution" within The Handmaid's Tale . Did you find the particicution believable? In other words, can you imagine yourself going along with the "rules" if you were placed in a similar situation? Defend your answer with specific examples from the novel, history, and/or your own experiences.

Why is the hotel where Moira is kept known as "Jezebel's"? How does this name fit in with the Gileadean's tendency to place the primary responsibility on women for any sexual problems or deviancy?

In his keynote speech, Professor Pieixoto tells his audience that "we must be cautious about passing moral judgment upon the Gileadeans" because "we have learned by now that such judgments are of necessity culture-specific." Do you agree? Explain your critique or defense of the Gileadean rule.

GradeSaver will pay $15 for your literature essays

The Handmaid’s Tale Questions and Answers

The Question and Answer section for The Handmaid’s Tale is a great resource to ask questions, find answers, and discuss the novel.

Why is the Bible kept locked up?

The Bible is kept locked up so the regime can interpret it in any way they please. They do not want people freely reading it as they could interpret it in a way that runs contrary to the state's interests.

"[The Bible] is an incendiary device: who...

The handmaids were only allowed in twos. Why?

Handmaids must always move about in twos, supposedly for protection, but really so that they can always be spied upon.

Why handmaids were only allowed in twos?

It was supposed to be for their own protection but it was really so they could spy on each other.

Study Guide for The Handmaid’s Tale

The Handmaid's Tale study guide contains a biography of Margaret Atwood, literature essays, quiz questions, major themes, characters, and a full summary and analysis.

About The Handmaid's Tale
The Handmaid's Tale Summary
Character List

Essays for The Handmaid’s Tale

The Handmaid's Tale literature essays are academic essays for citation. These papers were written primarily by students and provide critical analysis of The Handmaid's Tale.

Social Commentary in Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale
The Roles of Women in Kate Chopin's The Awakening and Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale
Gilead's Greatest Hits: Volume One
Language as a Form of Power In The Handmaid's Tale
Selfishness and Survival in The Handmaid’s Tale and 1984

Lesson Plan for The Handmaid’s Tale

About the Author
Study Objectives
Common Core Standards
Introduction to The Handmaid's Tale
Relationship to Other Books
Bringing in Technology
Notes to the Teacher
Related Links
The Handmaid's Tale Bibliography

Wikipedia Entries for The Handmaid’s Tale

Introduction
Plot summary

Top 100 Short Story Ideas

by Joe Bunting | 128 comments

Do you want to write but just need a great story idea? Or perhaps you have too many ideas and can’t choose the best one? Well, good news. We’ve got you covered.

Below are one hundred short story ideas for all your favorite genres. You can use them as a book idea, as writing prompts for writing contests , for stories to publish in literary magazines , or just for fun!

Use these 100 story ideas to get your creative writing started now.

Editor’s note: This is a recurring guide, regularly updated with ideas and information.

If you're in a hurry, here's my 10 best story ideas in brief, or scroll down for the full version.

Top 10 Story Ideas

Tell the story of a scar.
A group of children discover a dead body.
A young prodigy becomes orphaned.
A middle-aged woman discovers a ghost.
A woman who is deeply in love is crushed when her fiancé breaks up with her.
A talented young man's deepest fear is holding his life back.
A poor young boy or girl comes into an unexpected fortune.
A shy, young woman unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate.
A long journey is interrupted by a disaster.
A young couple run into the path of a psychopath.

Get The Write Structure here »

Why Creative Writing Prompts Are Helpful

Below, you'll find our best creative writing prompts and plot ideas for every genre, but first, why do we use prompts? Is it just a waste of time, or can they actually help you? Here are three reasons we love writing prompts at The Write Practice:

1. Practice the Language!

Even for those of us who are native English speakers, we're all on a language journey to go from beginners to skilled writers. To make progress on this language journey, you have to practice, and at The Write Practice, believe it or not, we're really into practice! Creative writing prompts are easy, fun ways to practice.

Use the prompts below to practice your storytelling and use of language. The more you practice, the better of a writer you'll become.

2. When you have no ideas and are stuck.

Sometimes, you want to write, but you can't think up any ideas. You could either just sit there, staring at a blank page, or you could find a few ideas to help you get started. Even better if the list of ideas is curated from our best plot ideas over the last decade that we've been publishing lessons, writing exercises, and prompts.

Use the story ideas below to get your writing started. Then when your creativity is warmed up, you'll start to come up with your own ideas!

3. To develop your own ideas.

Maybe you do have an idea already, but you're not sure it's good. Or maybe you feel like it's just missing some small piece to make it better. By reading other ideas, and incorporating your favorites into your story, you can fill your plot holes and generate creative ideas of your own.

Use the story ideas below to develop your own ideas.

4. They're fun!

Thousands of writers use the prompts below every month, some at home, some in classrooms, and even a few pros at their writing “office.” Why? Because writing prompts can be fun. They get your creativity started, help you come up with new ideas of your own, and often take your writing in new, unexpected directions.

Use the plot ideas to have more fun with writing!

How to Write a Story

One last thing before we get to the 100 story ideas, let’s talk about how to write a great short story . (Already know how to write a great story? No problem. Just skip down to the ideas below.)

First, read stories. If you’ve never read a story, you’re going to have a hard time writing one. Where do you find great stories? There are a lot of places, but check out our list of 46 Literary Magazines we’ve curated over here .
Write your story in a single sitting. Write the first draft of your story in as short a time as possible, and if you’re writing a short story , try to write it in one sitting. Trust me, this works. Everyone hates being interrupted when they’re telling compelling stories. Use that to your advantage and don’t stop writing until you’ve finished telling yours.
Read your draft. Read your story through once, without changing anything. This will give you a sense of what work it needs going forward.
Write a premise. After reading your first draft, get your head around the main idea behind your story by summarizing your story in a one sentence premise. Your premise should contain four things: a character, a goal, a situation, and a special sauce. Not sure what that means or how to actually do that? Here’s a full premise writing guide .
Write, edit, write, and edit. Good writing is rewriting. Use your second draft to fill in the plot holes and cut out the extraneous scenes and characters you discovered when you read the first draft in step #2. Then, polish up your final draft on the next round of edits.
Submit! Real writers don’t keep their writing all to themselves. They share it. Submit your story to a literary magazine , an anthology series , enter it into a writing contest , or even share it with a small group of friends. And if it gets rejected, don’t feel bad. You’ll be in good company.

Want to know more? Learn more about how to write a great short story here .

Our 100 Best Short Story Ideas, Plot Ideas, and Creative Writing Prompts

Ready to get writing? Here are our 100 best short story ideas to kickstart your writing. Enjoy!

10 Best General Short Story Ideas

Our first batch of plot ideas are for any kind of story, whether a spy thriller or a memoir of your personal life story. Here are the best story ideas:

Tell the story of a scar, whether a physical scar or emotional one. To be a writer, said Stephen King, “The only requirement is the ability to remember every scar .”
A group of children discover a dead body. Good writers don’t turn away from death, which is, after all, the universal human experience. Instead, they look it directly into its dark face and describe what they see on the page.
A young prodigy becomes orphaned. Orphans are uniquely vulnerable, and as such, they have the most potential for growth.
A middle-aged woman discovers a ghost. What do Edgar Allen Poe, Ron Weasley, King Saul from the Bible, Odysseus, and Ebenezer Scrooge have in common? They all encountered ghosts!
A woman who is deeply in love is crushed when her fiancé breaks up with her. “In life every ending is just a new beginning,” says Dakota Fanning’s character in Uptown Girls.
A talented young man’s deepest fear is holding his life back. Your character’s biggest fear is your story’s secret weapon. Don’t run from it, write about it.
A poor young boy or girl comes into an unexpected fortune. Not all fortunes are good. Sometimes discovering a fortune will destroy your life.
A shy, young woman unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate (literally bumps into him). In film, this is called the “meet cute,” when the hero bumps into the heroine in the coffee shop or the department store or the hallway, knocking her books to the floor, and forcing them into conversation.
A long journey is interrupted by a disaster. Who hasn’t been longing to get to a destination only to be delayed by something unexpected? This is the plot of Gravity , The Odyssey , and even Lord of the Rings .
A young couple run into the path of a psychopath. Monsters, whether people who do monstrous things or scaly beasts or a monster of a natural disaster, reveal what’s really inside a person. Let your character fall into the path of a monster and see how they handle themselves.

Now that you have an idea, learn exactly what to do with it. Check out my new book The Write Structure which helps writers take their ideas and write books readers love. Click to check out The Write Structure here.

More Short Story Ideas Based on Genre

Need more ideas? Here are ideas based on whichever literary genre you write. Use them as character inspiration, to start your own story, or borrow pieces to generate your own ideas. The only rule is, have fun writing!

By the way, for more story writing tips for each these plot types, check out our full guide to the 10 types of stories here .

10 Thriller Story Ideas

A thriller is any story that “thrills” the reader—i.e., gets adrenaline pumping, the heart racing, and the emotions piqued.

Thrillers come in all shapes and forms, dipping freely into other genres. In other words, expect the unexpected!

Here are a few of my favorite thriller story ideas :

Rosa Rivera-Ortiz is an up-and-coming lawyer in a San Diego firm. Held back by her ethnicity and her gender, she works twice as hard as her colleagues, and she’s as surprised as anyone when she’s requested specifically for a high-profile case. Bron Welty, an A-list actor and action star, has been arrested for the murder of his live-in housekeeper. The cop heading the case is older, ex-military, a veteran of more than one war, and an occasional sufferer of PTSD. Rosa’s hired to defend the movie star; and it seems like an easy win until she uncovers some secrets that not only make her believe her client is guilty, but may be one of the worst serial killers in the past two decades… and he knows she found out .

It’s the Cold War. Sergei, a double-agent for the CIA working in Berlin, is about to retire when he’s given one final mission: he’s been asked to “defect” to the USSR to help find and assassinate a suspected double-agent for the Kremlin. Sergei is highly trusted, and he’s given to understand that this mission is need-to-know only between him and very few superior officers. But as he falls deeper into the folds of the Iron Curtain, he begins to suspect that his superior officer might just be the mole, and the mark Sergei’s been sent to kill is on the cusp of exposing the leak.

It is 1800. A lighthouse on a barren cliff in Canada. Two lighthouse keepers, German immigrants, are alone for the winter and effectively cut off from the rest of the world until the ice thaws. Both Wilhelm and Matthias are settled in for the long haul with warm clothes, canned goods, and matches a-plenty. Then Wilhelm starts hearing voices. His personal belongings disappear from where he’d placed them, only to reappear in strange spots—like the catwalk, or dangling beneath the spiral stair knotted in brown twine. Matthias begs innocence. Little by little, Wilhelm grows convinced that Matthias is trying to convince him (Wilhelm) to kill himself. Is the insanity real, or is this really Matthias’ doing? And if it is real, what will he do to defend himself? There are so many months until the thaw.

20 Mystery Story Ideas

Enjoy a good whodunit? Then you’ll love these mystery story ideas .

Here are a few of my favorites:

Ever hear the phrase, “It is not who fired the shot but who paid for the bullet?” This is a philosophy Tomoe Gozen lives by. Brave and clever, Tomoe follows clues until she learns who ordered the murder: Emperor Antoku himself. But why would the emperor of Japan want to kill a lowly soldier?

Mystery writer Dan Rodriguez takes the subway every day. Every day, nothing happens. He wears earbuds and a hoodie; he’s ignored, and he ignores. Then one evening, on his way home from a stressful meeting with his publisher, Dan is startled out of his funk when a frantic Middle-Eastern man knocks him over at a dead run, then races up the stairs—pursued by several other thugs. The Middle-Eastern man is shot; and Dan discovers a mysterious package in the front pocket of his hoodie. What’s inside, and what does he need to do to survive the answer?

A headless corpse is found in a freshly-dug grave in Arkansas. The local police chief, Arley Socket, has never had to deal with more than missing gas cans and treed cats. His exploration of this weird murder digs up a mystery older than the 100-year-old town of Jericho that harkens all the way back to a European blood-feud.

20 Romance Story Ideas

Ready to write a love story? Or perhaps you want to create a subplot with a secondary character? We've got ideas for you!

Hint: When it comes to romance, a sense of humor is always a good idea. Have fun! Here are a few of my favorite love story ideas :

She’s a cop. He’s the owner of a jewelry store. A sudden rash of break-ins brings her to his store over and over and over again, until it becomes obvious that he might be tripping the alarm on purpose—just to see her. That’s illegal—but she’s kind of falling for him, too. Write the moment she realizes she has to do something about this crazy illicit courtship.

Colorado Animal Rescue has never been more challenging than after that zoo caught on fire. Sally Cougar (no jokes on the name, or she’ll kill you) tracks down three missing tiger cubs, only to find they’ve been adopted by millionaire Bryce Champion. Thanks to an antiquated law on the books, he legally has the right to keep them. It’s going to take everything Sally has to get those tiger cubs back.

He’s a museum curator with a fetish for perfection. No one’s ever gotten close to him; how could they? They’re never as perfect as the portraits, the sculptures, the art that never changes. Then one day, an intern is hired on—a young, messy, disorganized intern, whose hair and desk are in a constant state of disarray. The curator is going half-mad with this walking embodiment of chaos; so why can’t the he stand the thought of the intern leaving at the end of their assistantship?

20 Sci-Fi Story Ideas

From the minimum-wage-earning, ancient-artifact-hunting time traveller to the space-exploring, sentient dinosaurs, these sci-fi writing prompts will get you set loose your inner nerd.

Here are a few of my favorite sci-fi ideas :

In a future society, neural implants translate music into physical pleasure, and earphones (“jacking in”) are now the drug of choice. Write either from the perspective of a music addict, OR the Sonforce agent (sonance + enforcer) who has the job of cracking down.

It’s the year 5000. Our planet was wrecked in the great Crisis of 3500, and remaining human civilization survives only in a half dozen giant domed cities. There are two unbreakable rules: strict adherence to Life Quality (recycling doesn’t even begin to cover these laws), and a complete ban on reproduction (only the “worthy” are permitted to create new humans). Write from the perspective of a young woman who just discovered she’s been chosen to reproduce—but she has no interest in being a mother.

So yeah, ancient Egypt really was “all that” after all, and the pyramids turn out to be fully functional spaceships (the limestone was to preserve the electronics hidden inside). Write from the perspective of the tourist exploring the ancient society who accidentally turns one on.

20 Fantasy Story Ideas

Need a dose of sword-in-the-stone, hero and/or heroine packed coming-of-age glory? We love fantasy stories!

Here are a few of my favorite fantasy story ideas:

Bored teenaged wizards throwing a graduation celebration.

Uncomfortable wedding preparation between a magic wielding family tree and those more on the Muggle side of things.

A fairy prince who decides to abandon his responsibilities to become a street musician.

Just try to not have fun writing (or even just reading!) these fantasy writing prompts.

The Secret to Choosing the Best Story Idea

Stories, more than any other artistic expression, have the power to make people care. Stories have the ability to change people’s lives.

But to write a great story, a life-changing story, don’t just write about what your characters did, said, and saw. Ask yourself, “Where do I fit in to this story? What is my personal connection to this story?”

Robert Frost said this:

If you can connect your personal story to the story you’re writing, you will not only be more motivated to finish your story, you might just be able to change the lives of your readers.

Next Step: Write Your Best Story

No matter how good your idea, writing a story or a book can be a long difficult process. How do you create an outline, come up with a great plot, and then actually finish it?

My new book The Write Structure will help. You'll learn how to take your idea and structure a strong plot around it. Then you'll be guided through the exact process I've used to write dozens of short stories and over fifteen books.

You can learn more about The Write Structure and get your copy here.

Have a great short story idea? We'd love to hear it. Share it in the comments !

Choose one of these ideas and write a short story in one sitting (aim for 1,000 words or less!). When you're finished, share your story in the practice box below (or our latest writing contest ) for feedback from the community. And if you share, please be sure to comment on a few stories by other writers.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

Want best-seller coaching? Book Joe here.

Work with Joe Bunting?

WSJ Bestselling author, founder of The Write Practice, and book coach with 14+ years experience. Joe Bunting specializes in working with Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, How To, Literary Fiction, Memoir, Mystery, Nonfiction, Science Fiction, and Self Help books. Sound like a good fit for you?

128 Comments

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.” —Robert Frost

Great quote, right?

i like porn

Your site is just awesome!

My latest project has been working on a TV-format screenplay. In TV writing, there are B storylines, which are plot lines that span the course of a season (or several seasons). Each episode, however, has an A storyline, which is the plot of the events in that particular episode. Each A storyline is essentially a short story, and churning them out is surprisingly difficult! Lately I’ve been outlining episodes for my own story. I’ve just completed one that I particularly like, and would love to hear what you all think!

The Vampire Cat

The episode opens with Leiko telling the rest of the crew The Dream of Akinosuke. She finishes the story and they all head off to bed. Leiko walks Shannon to her room. On the way, Shannon asks Leiko if the events of the story were the main character’s dreams or if they were real. Leiko replies that for the Japanese the line between dreams and reality is very thin. They say goodnight and part ways.

The next day, the crew touches down on planet Lorraine. Their mission is to rob an auction house of a valuable piece of art if their client is not able to purchase it. They attend the auction. The client is outbid, so that night they return to the auction house to steal the sculpture. While looking for it, Leiko uncovers a dimension hopping machine, which she assumes to be a piece of junk. The crew is surprised by the auction house’s guards. Shannon is shot in the fight. Leiko tries to help her, but is intercepted by a guard. They fight, and Leiko falls inside the dimension hopping machine. She falls against a lever. The doors to the machine close and it begins spinning very fast. Leiko is thrown to the floor and the impact knocks her unconscious.

When she awakes, Leiko is no longer in the machine or the auction house. She is in a 16th century Japanese barracks, surrounded by soldiers. Furthermore, she is dressed like them and they address her as Soda. When she catches a glimpse of her reflection, she realizes to everyone else she looks like a Japanese man. Unsure if she is dreaming or not, Leiko decides to play along. She hears from the other soldiers that the prince of the region is seriously ill, and thinks maybe with her advanced medical knowledge she can help. She sneaks into the castle to see him. On the way, she passes a group of court ladies. The most beautiful of them smiles at Leiko and her eyes flash yellow. Leiko shakes it off, assuming she must be seeing things. She reaches the prince’s room and is shocked to find Shannon lying close to death, surrounded by attendants. She is discovered and thrown out, but she begs to be told what’s happened to the prince, and is informed he has a mystery sickness no doctor can diagnose. It is feared he will die. The prince’s attendants suggest that if she is so worried about her sovereign, she should pray for his health. Before she leaves, she uses to her dagger to look at Shannon’s reflection, and sees that her reflection is in fact that of the prince. Leiko feels the whole situation is somehow strangely familiar, but unable to put her finger on why, she decides there is nothing for it but to follow the attendants’ advice.

That night she goes to the holy quarter and bathes at the well before praying to the statue of Buddha for the prince’s/Shannon’s recovery. A voice calls to her, and she looks up to see a figure in a window above her. The figure asks her to come up. Leiko goes into the building and finds a priest who introduces himself as Ruiten and tells her he has been brought to the castle to find the source of the prince’s illness and asks for her help. Leiko finally realizes why this all seems familiar to her – she is in the story of The Vampire Cat of Nabeshima, playing the part of the young soldier Ito Soda. She makes a conjecture: the dimension hopping machine really worked and has brought her to the spirit world. Shannon, after being shot, is dying, and her spirit has taken the place of the prince in the story. If Leiko saves the prince, she saves Shannon. Ruiten agrees that this may be possible. Leiko agrees to help him. Knowing how the story goes, she now has a hunch as to what is causing the prince’s sickness.

Leiko goes back to the castle, and straight to the house of the court ladies. She digs under the verandah and finds exactly what she thought she would – the body of the beautiful lady, with puncture wounds in her throat.

The next day, Ruiten obtains permission for Leiko to keep watch over the prince with his attendants. That night, all the attendants fall asleep. Leiko keeps herself awake by stabbing herself in the leg. Later in the night, the beautiful lady comes to the room. She says her name is O Toyo, and she is the prince’s favorite companion. Under Leiko’s watchful eye, she cannot harm the prince, so she leaves.

The next morning, Leiko goes to confront the false O Toyo. They fight. Before Leiko can kill her, the false O Toyo shifts to her true form – a demonic black cat – and escapes the castle. Ruiten sends soldiers after her. Just then, there’s a scream from the prince’s room. Leiko and Ruiten rush from to the room and are told the prince is dead. Leiko pushes her way to the bed and, taking Shannon in her arms, pleads with her to wake up. In course of this, Leiko realizes she’s in love with her friend. Suddenly Shannon opens her eyes and says Leiko’s name.

Leiko wakes up in the med bay of the Perseus, surrounded by the crew. Shannon is in the bed next to her, weak but alive. Leiko gets up to tend to her. Shannon asks if one of the crew was holding her, because she could have sworn she felt like she was lying in someone’s arms. Kaya jokes that she must have been having a good dream. Leiko remarks that maybe it was something more.

This is great! Seriously, I really enjoyed it. Now you have to write it! 🙂

Hey Sunny! Loving this website

Opps that was my grandma 🙂 But she right

Do you know of any Romance magazines that offer short story romances or literary magazines dedicated to just romance? Just curious.

I’m not familiar with any, but try googling “romance literary magazines” or “romance short stories” and I’m sure you’ll find some. Reply back if you find any that are particularly promising.

I just want to say, there are so many good stories on this website. This show the amount that you have helped all these people, maybe one day I will add myself to those people, thank you.

http://www.writersdigest.com/writing-articles/by-writing-genre/romance-by-writing-genre/romance_markets

بدأت تمطر ورأيت الناس يسرعون للإختباء من قطراته فابتسمت لذكرى جميلة عبرت خاطرى ..تذكرت امى عندما كانت ترقص تحت المطر بفستانها الوردى..الهى كم كنت أعشق هذا الفستان عليها..كان يناسب بشرتها الفاتحة ونحولة جسدها .جذبتنى من يدى يومها واخذنا ندور فى حلقات لا تبدء ولا تنتهى. شعرت ببرودة يديها تصعق يداى وبرودة المطر تبلل وجهى أحسست وبالسعادة تغمرنى لانك اخيرا بجانبى واخيرا تبتسمين اشتقتك يا اماه ..أشتقت لتفاصيلك وابتسامتك. أشتقت لمعنى وجودك جانبى ..المطر يهطل، أعلم أنك لو كنت الأن معى لجذبتينى ورسمنا بأقدامنا دوائر حتى تبتل عظامنا ..سأرقص لك فقط وسأبتسم لك فقط. بدأت عيون الناس تتجه نحوى ..تستنكر فعلتى ولكنى لا أفعل شئ.انا فقط أخبر أمى إنى بخير وأنى أشتاقها..ولكن للمطر طعم غريب يا أمى. له طعم ألم فراقك ،طعم الحياة بدونك ؛هو المطر وهى الحياة ولكن طعمهما مؤلمين يا أمى

I’m writing a “Thriller.” I’m very excited. A short story. Thank you. Right on time as usual!

Fun! Good luck LaCresha.

I’m wondering about “the sagging middle” in story structure right now. I’m happy with my beginning and ending, but the middle isn’t as dynamic as I want it to be. Does anyone have any experiences or advice about this? (It’s a 25 000 word story that’s due for a competition in about four months.)

Hey Rosie. We have a few resources on that. First check out our structure and plot cheatsheet: https://thewritepractice.com/plot-structure . Then, a great guest post on story structure with a hole in it: https://thewritepractice.com/story-hole . And I always recommend Save the Cat, which is a book for screenwriters, but is also very helpful for story structure in general: http://amzn.to/1TNpv2F . Highly recommend it.

The story grid is a good site and podcast for story structure. 🙂

But longer than 15 min but here it is.

I rub my fingers into the soft fuzz on the big brown chair. I can make designs if I move my fingers up or down. A dot makes one eye. Then another. A line for a smile finishes my chair picture. ‘Why would Daddy take money and blow it into the wind?’ I wonder as I draw.

A wet spot lands by the mouth, making the brown turn dark. I try to wipe it away, but the face disappears instead. I lay back in the chair, bumping my twin brother and making the dim room spin. My pink and orange stripe shirt is soft as I wipe my eyes. James’s tears fall to the chair like rain, his mouth open like one of the squishy balls we play with. His cry is loud. I join the noise.

Mommy’s hair, as dark as the wet spot on our chair, poofs around her face. Her green eyes seem small with her eyebrows close together. Teeth and gums show as Mommy screams like a roaring lion. Daddy points a finger at her nose. He looks so big. He yells, trying to be louder than her. James and I try to cry louder than them. Maybe they will hear us. Maybe they will stop.

Mommy lets out one last angry scream and tries to push Daddy away. A long red line comes on his arm. Red water comes out of it. Daddy’s eyes widen. His face turns red. He grabs Mommy by her arms, lifts her, and pushes her to the door like a rhinoceros. The wood breaks as they go through.

The noise has stopped, except for sirens in the distance. I curl into a ball in the chair, James’s knee sticking into my back, and close my eyes.

James and I get to sleep in the same bed tonight. It’s strange having Daddy read and tuck us in by himself, but he tells us Mommy will be home soon. I still don’t understand why she went to jail. I thought jail was for bad guys, but Daddy says everything will be ok.

The lights go out bringing shadow monsters. I hug my brother.

Bit longer than 15 minutes, but here it is

‘Scars’

The noise has stopped, except for sirens in the distance. I curl into a ball in the chair, James’ knee sticking into my back, and close my eyes.

This was so good! You have a really good writing style!

“The wall, he decided, will always be there”

He awoke, or at least it seemed he did, for he could not tell if he had been dreaming or if he were dreaming now. He pushed the woollen, scratchy blanket away from his body. There were no sheets, and his skin stuck to the plastic mattress that smelled of others sweat and urine. After prying his flesh from the tenacious bedding, he managed to sit up. He was more tired than he had remembered. He was still dirty and thirsty and his eyes hurt as they squinted in the dim hazy light. He drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. For long moments, he sat that way fearing punishment for doing anything that might be wrong.

Eventually, however, his eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy light and he began to see things. Across from him he could see a wall. He wondered how long the wall had been there. The question struck him as absurd. The wall he decided would always be there. In this confusion, he meditated on the hardness before him until a thought of beauty entered his mind and the nakedness upset him. “There are no pictures…it has no pictures hanging from it.” Lacking the courage, or cowardice, to look away he continued staring blankly until his sight improved still further and he found something within the wall that excited him. “I forgot…about…colour…I can see the colour now!” He tried to give the colour a name. “Dirty…” he thought. “Filth.” he said out loud. “It is a filthy colour.” he whispered silently to himself.

Quickly, the excitement left him and he began to grow tired of looking at the wall, even the colour began to bore him. The boredom gave him a sense of courage and he became bold. He decided to explore. Cautiously he moved his eyes to the right where he saw…a corner, Then the head began to turn to follow the lead of the eyes. They continued past the corner until they gazed upon something he recognized.

He hated what he saw, the familiar object that hid in the shadows…the thing that kept him here. He glared at it, but the closed and bolted door remained unmoved. It was then that he turned back to the wall he had grown to know and the boredom…he had grown to love.

incredible first sentence!

Incredible first sentence and incredible last sentence. Shivers up my spine. Thank you.

3 words…. copy and paste

Omg how why are people so good at writing stuff?!?!?

idek!?!?!!! i’m a freshman in high school and i can’t even write a simple short story.

Give it time…

This was a wonderful read ^_^ Short and enticingly written. Drew me in right away with that first bit, and especially the way it was all tied together by that first sentence. Lovely!

I know it’s been two years but it’s still very good and still deserves praise. I like this trippy atmosphere, you managed to convey it very nicely.

Some great story ideas here. You could even combine some of them in interesting, tenuous ways for a multi-location epic.

Thanks Bridget! Absolutely. And there’s nothing I love more than a good epic.

These are great ideas. I like the idea of prompts. Though sometimes, I get stuck when I write from a prompt. And sometimes, I’m not able to write a story in one sitting. I have to think about how I want the story to play out. I might have done it once, and they were pretty short. But most of the time, it takes a couple of sessions. That’s how I’m wired, I suppose.

Ten years of therapy, about a million different types of pills and three psychiatrists have helped me enough to write this. I was eleven when it happened, my older sister, Quinn, was almost sixteen, and my best friend was ten. I’ll never forget it… I doubt anyone ever will.

It was a warm summer day, early June, my best friend, Harper was over and we were playing in the backyard. We were laughing and singing along to a song that I couldn’t tell you the name of now. It was the middle of a normal day, but that’s what they always think just before everything goes wrong. Well, anyways,Harper and I amused ourselves doing everything and nothing for a while before we decided that we wanted to go to upstairs and bug Quinn, who we thought was doing her online drivers ed. courses. We raced up to her room, giggling like the little girls we were. When we got to her room, Harper grabbed the doorknob and tried to fling the door open, but it was locked. That should have been my first sign that something was wrong, Quinn never locked her door, we weren’t allowed to. We yelled, laughing, “Let us in! Let us in!” We giggled and knocking on her door again and again. There was no response, so I remember grabbing the key my parents always had, it opened all of the doors to me and my sibling’s bedrooms… I wish I would’ve known what I know now. I wish I wouldn’t have opened that door.

That day was the last happy day for a long time. I remember everything clearly, the breeze ruffling my short hair, the sound of Harper screaming the lyrics to our favorite song at the top of her lungs. I especially remember the thing that has haunted me for the past ten years. I remember my sister’s lifeless body lying in a pool of her own blood on her bed. I remember the look on her face being more peaceful than I’ve ever seen it. I remember screaming as I stared at the image of Quinn, her wrists bleeding and her skin pale. I remember the sound of Harper frantically dialing 911 and I remember the ambulance arriving. I remember the paramedics calling my parents and hearing my mom’s piercing scream from the phone. I remember the paramedics forcing me out of Quinn’s room, while I kicked and screamed at them, begging them to let me stay with my sister. It was the last time I saw her face. I remember collapsing in my dad’s arms. That was the first time I heard him cry, it wouldn’t be the last.

She was already dead when the ambulance got there. Suicide, they said, she killed herself. It took a long time to convince myself that it wasn’t my fault. If I had only went to see her sooner I could’ve saved her. The funeral was closed casket and everyone cried. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was too numb. I don’t remember much of the funeral, it was just a blur of black and navy blue, with the occasional apology thrown in there. I never got why everyone apologized, it wouldn’t bring her back.

I was just a little girl and there I was with my childhood torn away from me. I was a younger sister and then I was an only child. A piece of me has been missing from me ever since that die and I doubt I’ll ever get it back again.

This was based on the boy or gets an unexpected fortune. I flushed out the typos, but its okay. Check it out! 😀 Caleb Pratt

Mistaken Divinity

My bar drinks of the wooded timberland were one of the most profound expeditions in my walk into becoming a god. I cupped the glass of cool bud light, and sipped it up at the mini bar table. I rested my hand on the wooden counter top, my fans and companions gambling each other on some high level daredevil match.

“Hey, Lexan, where you at,” I turned to see my friend Rodriguez. Fun man to have around with. He was had long grey hair, even for a guy. I pushed off the table and stood straight. I kept my hand in my pocket.

“You have a lot of realty in the new diversion your causing. Sherman hasn’t even sighted any more Divine Partakers, let alone, any Christian circumspect.”

“I know I know, but… we are, what they are… except the for the grace,” Rodriguez said.

“Right,” I narrow my eyes down towards the ground. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say about us Mormons being what the Christian Community isn’t. I mean, there almost all extinct, if not a hundred percent. We are the erected believers… who are in sure denial of the forthcoming of any later day saints.

“So where is your ceremonial magic been taking you,” Rodriguez said. “Anyhow I could help in the cemetery on Route 430?”

“Uhh… I mean… yeah unless you have a cloak and a specialized dagger. I’d have to get you one of those. You’ll be all dressed like a Celtic.”

We laughed.

Rodriguez was a good friend of mine. Much older though. I was in my teen years and he was in his fifties.

“Man, Lexan, you need to grow a beard. Your seventeen years old… yet you look like you’ve graduated college. What happened to your power to manipulate appearance? Funny… its a shame Christians don’t have this kind of power… even heathens can’t do anything we can.”

“Yeah I can tell Rodge. Tell me, why haven’t you been practicing your divinity? You seem a little out of shape to be wrestling with angles and demons….”

“Well I… yeah I mean, sure. Lets say I’m kind of in a predicament.”

“What…?”

I lay my back against the counter.

“Well, down on Armenia Rd. there was a cross fight between me and some other foe. Not sure what to suspect of him, but the “man-woman” was between two others working for her, or he… I don’t know.”

I rest my chin on my thumb and index finger. I realize and hear there are other phenomena of some other cultist group here in Sherman. Our cult is wacky on its own. Though I don’t know what to think of this “he-she man” thing….”

BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ!

‘I heard you! Shut up!’

‘Enough, you asshole!’

WHACK! Pieces of metal and plastic shattered on the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she muttered softly as she fights her every being not to shed a tear. Alas, she lost once again.

It’s been days since she last saw light. The shadows on the walls seemed permanently etched. Her sanctuary once filled with love, lust, and happiness, now wreaks with despair, anguish, and palpable desperation.

‘How did I get here?’ she thought. The same desperate thought she’s been clutching onto for days. Or maybe weeks? Months? Years?

It doesn’t matter. To Emma, time no longer exists with this unrelenting pain.

Once in a while, the light would sneak through the thick, heavy curtains. And Emma would almost succumb to a hint of a smile until it haunts her again.

His resilient hands on her supple breasts. His soft lips caressing her neck and slender sternum. His sturdy chest against her trembling body. His whole palpitating manhood devouring her salacious being. Every ridges of Paul haunt her. Now, it all has to be distant memories. Unshakeable, soul crushing memories.

After what seemed like a lifetime of horizontal desolation, she finally mustered some strength to sit at the edge of her bed. She slowly opened her bulging eyes, and finally saw the mess she was in. Rotting pieces of food in cardboard boxes, sea of crumpled tissue strewn with nauseating piles of laundry, and dismantled pieces of her once chirpy alarm clock scattered all over her dingy floor.

As she moved her gazed from the floor, she noticed the dent on her pristine white wall. She couldn’t help but stare. ‘That dent will be there for a long time,’ she thought.

With a throbbing grunt, Emma slowly stood up and shuffled towards her once chirpy alarm clock. She picked up the pieces and followed the faint light peeking through her bathroom door. As she turned the door knob, more tears rolled down her cheeks. It was excruciating, but this time it was different. The door closed and the room was dark once again.

“His resilient hands on her supple breasts. His soft lips caressing her neck and slender sternum. His sturdy chest against her trembling body. His whole palpitating manhood devouring her salacious being. Every ridges of Paul haunt her. Now, it all has to be distant memories. Unshakeable, soul crushing memories.”

He had left his Gameboy behind. There was nothing to do without it, nothing to do but kick his feet and stare at the dull blank walls. Even annoying Di-Di had lost its colour. He didn’t care what Ma or Papa said. He had to get his Gameboy back.

He pushed into the room. Ah Boy, wait outside ah. Don’t come in! Papa had seemed firm, but he was old enough now to know how to get out of trouble. He would run to Ma, hide behind her legs, maybe tearfully declare that he would run away from home because Papa was so mean. Anyway, Papa seemed so busy with Ah Gong nowadays. He wouldn’t bother to cane a little boy like him.

Where had everyone gone? He couldn’t have been in the corridor for so long. The room that was once packed full of relatives was empty. It was only Ah Gong left in the hospital bed.

Immediately he noticed that the mask over Ah Gong’s nose and mouth was gone. Who had removed it? Without the strange alien-octopus-thing perched on his face, Ah Gong looked like the grandfather he remembered. He moved closer to get a better look.

As he approached the bed he realized the mask was lying on the chair. The inside was stained with a rustlike substance he did not recognize. He held up the mask to the light, and rubbed the stain with a cautious index finger. A powder came off in his hand. With a shiver of disgust he realized it was dried blood.

“Di-Di!” He didn’t know if he was terrified or excited. Where was his brother? Ma had always rushed to daub up any blood in their house – whether from Di-Di falling when learning to ride his bicycle, Di-Di scratching him during one of their many fights, Papa tripping over a wire and later needing stitches in his forehead. He couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity to share with his brother: the chance to investigate blood without an adult present.

The Gameboy lay in the room, forgotten.

Wrote on ‘a group of children discover a dead body’. In case it wasn’t obvious.

“I do like llamas very much,” said Charleston, “In fact, they even have names.” “You are one freaky man, Charleston.” stated Larry

Very well said!!

Jeremy Reynolds had a party one day. He decided it would be a special theme. Deez Nutz, he decided would be a fitting title for a beach party.

*I am only 14 so please, don’t mind me if there are any mistakes. I am still in the process of learning, but I tried really hard*

He could write. He could write and he knew it. No one else knew. He’d never show them his pieces; his collection of fantasies and mysteries. He wanted his friends to know. No, he wanted the world to know. But he was fearful. He was fearful of his stories failing, of him failing.

Abram had written many short stories and novels, all of them printed in manuscript and hidden in a black lock-box under his bed. He was unmarried, for he didn’t need any other love than that of his trusty typewriter and parchment. Writing was frowned upon, in his country. Books were burned. Even the classics. They were all burned in a pile on the streets.

He wouldn’t risk it. He didn’t want that fate for his books. He worked to hard. He spent too much time revising and perfecting the novel; there was no way he would let them die.

Sighing, Abram cracked his knuckles and stood. He yawned and walked over to his bed, where he bent down and grabbed the lock-box from beneath the bed. Abram had kept the key underneath the mattress, in case anyone were to find this box that contained all of his treasured secrets.

He opened the box he hadn’t opened in many years. Removing the pieces of parchment, he sat on floor, listening for the sounds of Nazi vehicles who somehow sensed the unpublished books. But none came. There was only silence, which, to Abram’s surprise, seemed to grow stronger as each second passed.

Before he knew it, Abram had been sitting on his hard floor for hours, thinking. Thinking about what he knew not. He just knew he was thinking.

Abram stood slowly; carefully as if he was trying not to disrupt the dust that covered the dark floor. Walking over to his desk, he left his lock-box open; something he’d never done in the years past. He sat and placed some more parchment into the typewriter and began writing, or typing, you could say. But this time, something was different. Abram wasn’t writing just for fun, he was writing for purpose. This time, he thought, this time, I will be published and my work may fuel the world. And with that, he revealed his talent to the world.

Thank you so much!!

much thanks <3

I’m sorry I’m late but I just wanted to say this story is fantastic! Soon enough this will become a book! I’m from Hawaii and all I do is write and draw all day… Keep up the work and never give up! God bless and aloha!

Yours was the best story that I read on this page…

thank you!!!

Very empowering!!! I was also around your age when I started writing on this site.

Anyways, that short story was so full of meaning. We just happened to be doing an essay on the value of literature in English class so this really fit in nicely for me with that. Lovely! 🙂

oh thank you sooo much!! I greatly appreciate it!!

I enjoyed your story. Thank you for sharing. I especially liked how Abram developed his talent, and despite the fear of having his manuscripts destroyed, he decided to publish his work. Well done and well told.

I have noticed some tiny grammatical mistakes in your Story and correct it for you as I know that this short Story has potential to go very far. Here is the corrected version: He could write. He could write, and he knew it. No one else knew. He’d never show them his pieces; his collection of fantasies and mysteries. He wanted his friends to know. No, he wanted the world to know. But he was fearful. He was fearful of his stories failing, of him failing.

Abram had written many short stories and novels, all of them printed in manuscript and hidden in a black lock-box under his bed. He was unmarried, for he didn’t need any other love than that of his trusty typewriter and parchment. Writing was frowned upon, in his country. Books were burnt. Even the classics. They were all burned in a pile on the streets.

He wouldn’t risk it. He didn’t want that fate for his books. He worked too hard. He spent too much time revising and perfecting the novel; there was no way he would let them die.

He opened the box he hadn’t opened in many years. Removing the pieces of parchment, he sat on the floor, listening for the sounds of Nazi vehicles who somehow sensed the unpublished books. But none came. There was only silence, which, to Abram’s surprise, seemed to grow stronger as each second passed.

Abram stood slowly; carefully as if he was trying not to disrupt the dust that covered the dark floor. Walking over to his desk, he left his lock-box open; something he’d never done in the years past. He sat and placed some more parchment into the typewriter and began writing, or typing, you could say. But this time, something was different. Abram wasn’t writing just for fun, he was writing for a purpose. This time, he thought, this time, I will be published, and my work may fuel the world. And with that, he revealed his talent to the world.

I hope my effort has helped!

Is it OK if I put this on a website I’m making. It will get me money I need to have. You said your only 14, 9 months ago, so you could be 15, well I’m only 12. I need to learn to save up and this will help me. Everything I said here is true, please help me. Also, this is a great story and that is why I chose your to be on my website.

dude thats like literally directly stealing someone’s work for money that only goes to you. Just write your own story instead of stealing someone else’s.

Admit it. I am probably some dude who can’t even make a website, well I am, so don’t worry.

This is the story I am working on now. I wrote it a long time ago, but I am upgrading it now. Changing all the errors, making the vocabulary more sophisticated:

In a valley close to a river where melt-water splashed and where rhododendrons and roses bloomed, where linnets flew with doves above the clustered trees, lay a cave, mostly hidden by the immense pines and the crag. In the cave, out of reach from the sunlight, was a portal. The portal’s frame was the darkest shade of gold, with glowing orange lines carved into it. Glowing flecks of bright blue glow in the darkness of the cave. The portal lay un opened, but the frame still glowed in the shadows of the sombre cave.

In a desert of torturing, immense heat, where scorching light, too blistering to be called sunlight, burns the dehydrated ground, was a tunnel, buried under the sand. In the tunnel there was an ever-growing fortress of burnt leaves and sand with over-boiled water dripping the top. This is all that remained of the desert, nothing could survive in the world above, nothing except from the portal. The fortress was built around the portal; the portal was the darkest shade of black, with red around the rims of the frame.

The sound of water hitting the cold tiles that topped the floor brought a sense of entertainment to the girl sat in the small room covered in a mixture of scars and bruises, awaiting the next blow of the hammer upon her fragile body which shivered in the night air and soft breeze which entered via the half barricaded window. Again and again, almost as if it was a cruel rhythm the metal tool came down, never missing a hit, always landing upon her chest. The storm brewing outside was bad enough without the maniac and his hammer. These are soft blows for a man of his build, she thought, she was certain he intended to make this last all night long. She wanted to struggle, to scream! But the leather bindings made it impossible, who cares anyway, she thought, no one near this basement would care.

The sticky taste of iron filled her mouth, blood. Her body started to shudder, shock. By this point the inmate hitting had dropped the hammer and injected another load of hydrocodone, such a waste of such an effective pain killer. At last she tried to struggle, but even with the drugs numbing the sharp pain shooting trough her body she still couldn’t gain the strength to fuel her ineffective hope of escaping the inmate, after all, even if she did escape, in a mass breakout like this? She could die in a more demanding way.

With my free hand I felt the imperfections, holes, scratches, patches of long since dry blood that covered thee wooden operation table I lay on. How old was it? Thirty years? Forty? Who cares, it had to be old to be in the basement of Twin Rivers Asylum. This psychiatric institution had housed many atrocities, after all, Nazis built this asylum, catered the inmates…put them to work. We are only barely off the English channel; here in Channel Island’s Twin rivers asylum we have many an inmates. Young and old, French and British, they are all welcome here, hell, we have a Swedish inmate, talks to himself all day and night, his names Toby Buchman, we call him Toby-Talkative, how very fitting being his nurse I should die by his hand…

Ouch, be gentler Toby. Even through my drugged up husk of a body I felt that one. I and the staff thought you were joking when you said you were very strong, looks like you weren’t joking…

For such a shrivelled blotch of bones you have surprisingly good and when it comes to instrument of torture, your quite strong, why wouldn’t you be? Killing young women is why your here, Toby, you are one hell of a sociopath, brilliant mind, you’re like a more sadistic Hannibal Lecter minus eating his victims after all, I’m so helpless you could take a couple of bites out of me as I lie here, in the dark basement…

Fun fact, a goldfish’s attention span is three seconds, the average lunar eclipse takes 11 minutes to pass, and a wooden hospital bed from 19th century takes an average of 63 hits to break trough, 54 if you incorporate a body which weighs approximately 130lbs, and guess how much I weigh.

Suddenly I heard the wood buckle under the next hit a glorious hit as well as my straps loosening. Come on Toby, you brilliant old sociopath, you can do it, one more well made hit could send me free. What could go wrong? Toby stood motionless on the spot for a moment later Toby took another blow. I couldn’t breathe. The pain was so intense I felt every cell in my body explode in a chain reaction. The pain was so intense that it felt like a piece of heated iron had been pressed onto my skin. Despite that, a strange sort of calm fell over me: I was dying. I wasn’t coming back from this. Part of me thought, All right. Make it count. I wobbled on one foot about to run to the door, but unfortunately Toby kicked me at the wall. He was so strong, I thought All froze the leaves on the trees didn’t clatter, Toby didn’t stink anymore, Then it was gone all the memories of life returning to me. Then it all went away, my life was It was the end, nothing could stop that now…

I awoke in a bed, in a white room with a marble floor and a silver carpet at the foot of the bed; the wall behind her was a fancy, white wallpaper, decorated to look like a real wall. The wall on the left of the bed and in front of the bed were normal and white, on the right of the bed was a window, now covered, with a beige curtain. In the bed- where the girl lay were multiple cushions, all lay side by side at the top of the bed; the blanket covering her was soft and light. On the sides of the bed were two bed-side cabinets, one with a lamp and the other one with a vase, holding tulips and rhododendrons, on books by her favourite author, many she didn’t recognise. Promptly, she got up noticing there was a small, white table- shaped as a cylinder, with a transparent glass top; also noticing the chair behind it too. The chair was a traditional, leather armchair with four small metal legs holding it up. Then she turned to the door. It was white made, smooth and made out of oak, with a metal handle, a small, square keyhole under it.

As soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, it flew open with a tall, handsome man in the way with bright blue hair shaped as a fire and red eyes. “Welcome, Kayla to Valhalla. Where are you off so fast” he shouted with glee. “I was going out,” Kyla said trembling on the spot. “I didn’t think this is where I should be.” “In this hotel we are all dedicated to make you feel like home, for you will be staying here for the rest of your life. Sorry for my wrong vocabulary, you are already dead. For the rest of the time you need to practice.” “What !?” she yelled. “Are you saying I’m dead” “Yes I am,” the man asked confused.”May I introduce you to your new home”

So the two walked through what seemed to be a endless tour, but eventually came to an end. “And this is the dining room where you have dinner… Here is your breakfast room you can freely come here and invite friends if you are feeling lonely…” “So you are saying this is the place where all people go if they are an extremex and if they died they come here and become an extraextremex” “Yes,” said he.”And also that you are our leader because you can see what specie people are also take away their powers if needed.” “Can I take away the powers of sociopaths or weaken them with my mind beams whatever things.”

“Yes, you can but if you do that you will be weakened too. Also that is a high level trick, you are not high level- no offense” “Offense taken,” said Kayla, with her head down. So they continued on their tour and went walking through all the different floors and introducing Kyla to all the different people and members of staff. On they went about the limits of people and a lot of different stuff. After time, they started her training.

“Focus on me, ” Blaze was explaining to her how to see what specie he was.”Do not think of anything else. Not the colour of my nose, not what room we are in just on me the thoughts and memories of me. Now listen to the sound of my voice. You should be in a universe of darkness; are you?” “Yes I see black in the background and there are flying things in it.” “Yes those are my thoughts.” “I can also see images swirling around” “Those are memories” “I can also feel heat and cold environment when I move around. Are those your emotions” “Yes, the heat is happiness and the cold is anxiety or sadness. Now let’s focus on the specie part. To determine if I’m an Extraextremex, a normal Extremex or even an Oigreog. If I am an Extraextremex then you will not feel motion. If I was an Extremex then you would sense tingling and if I am an Oigreog then you’ll sense shaking. Which one do you sense?” “I sense tingling and shaking so you are one of the Oigreog in the times when Extremex where starting to populate the world. This that means you are an Exremog or an Exoiig” “I am an Exoiig. I have not died yet.” “But how are you here?” “Because I was the first Exoiig alive. I made this place” “But how?” “I used my powers to do it. That is why all the walls are shades of red, orange and yellow.” “Why didn’t you make mine a different colour.” “Because I need to keep track of what specie everyone is. I used Conjuration and Mysticism to make sure that every specie got the same shade of red or whatever.” They blabbered on about what it was like when Oigreog ruled the world, what Black Magic could do and how to control Extraextremex powers…

Kayla went to bed with the thoughts of how the world was made and how it transformed into this planet, when at the start it was billions of monsters – the Oigreog – fought and then somehow transformed into normal people who never fought in their lives. She also didn’t understand how there was only one person who had the power to see what specie one was… She woke with her hair curled up covering her face.

Once she tossed the hair off her face she noticed there was a book on her bed-side cabinet beside the lamp. When she picked it up, she noticed it was a book called “The Arts of Necromancy and Enchantments”. She soon noticed it was the book Blaze used to learn Black Magic. She was filled with a mixture of joy and shock. Then the door flew open. A small brown-haired boy was standing in the way. “Hi,” he said, holding a hand out to shake, “I am Logan, someone from you floor” “Hi,” Kayla said, shaking his hand, “I’m Kayla, an Extraextremex” “Do you want to go and have breakfast” “I guess so” said Kayla.

In the hallway, my neighbours were starting to emerge. Thomas Jefferson Jr looked about my age. He had short curly hair, a lanky frame and a rifle slung over one shoulder. His blue wool coat had brass buttons and chevrons on the sleeve – a U.S. Army Civil War uniform, I guessed. He nodded and smiled. ‘How you doing?’

‘Um, dead, apparently,’ I said. He laughed. ‘Yeah. You’ll get used to it. Call me T.J.’ ‘Kayla,’ I said. ‘Come on.’ Logan pulled me along.

We passed a girl who must’ve been Mallory Keen. She had frizzy red hair, green eyes and a serrated knife, which she was shaking in the face of a six-foot-seven guy outside the door marked X.

‘Again with the pig’s head?’ Mallory Keen spoke in a faint Irish brogue. ‘X, do you think I want to see a severed pig’s head every time I step out of my front door?’

‘I could not eat any more,’ X rumbled. ‘The pig head does not fit in my refrigerator.’ Personally, I would not have antagonized the guy. He was built like a bomb-containment chamber. If you happened to have a live grenade, I was pretty sure you could safely dispose of it simply by asking X to swallow it. His skin was the colour of a shark’s belly, rippling with muscles and stippled with warts. There were so many welts on his face it was hard to tell which one was his nose. We walked past, X and Mallory too busy arguing to pay us any attention.

We entered a small elevator and the doors closed, making the elevator sound. “One question: How does everyone get here.” “People called Collectors fly around the world collecting souls of dead Extremex. I am a Collectors.”

‘And you?’ I asked. ‘How did you become a Collector? Did you die a noble death?’ She laughed. ‘Not yet. I’m still among the living.’ ‘How does that work exactly?’ ‘Well, I live a double life. Tonight, I’ll escort you to dinner. Then I have to rush home and finish my calculus homework.’ ‘You’re not joking, are you?’ ‘I never joke about calculus homework.’ The elevator doors opened. We stepped into a room the size of a concert arena. My mouth dropped. ‘Holy –’ ‘Welcome,’ Logan said, ‘to the Feast Hall of the Slain.’

Rows of long tables, like a stadium, curved downward from the nosebleed section. In the center of the room, instead of a basketball court, a tree rose taller than the Statue of Liberty. Its lowest branches were maybe a hundred feet up. Its canopy spread over the entire hall, scraping against the domed ceiling and sprouting through a massive opening at the top. Above, stars glittered in the night sky.

What’s supposed to be your point? If you are receiving money from something YOU DO NOT OWN then it is obviously theft. YOU DO NOT PUT SOMEONE ELSES WORK ON YOUR OWN WEBSITE AND USE THAT MONEY FOR YOURSELF. That is just pathetic, really. I hope you honestly realise what your doing here, because its seriously stupid.

kys nigga my bitch loves the cocaine nigga gucci gang nigga iwill fuck your bith tongiht nigga, drose out nigga fag nigga

I am very disappointed that there is not 100 of the story idea selection

I’m glad to see Joe’s book, Let’s Write a Short Story! is still availalbe and going strong! I purchased it as soon as it was published, still refer to it quite regularly to remind myself of some important but often over-looked elements of short story. Although my work has been published a number of times, we’re never too experienced to learn and to be reminded of what makes for a great story.

A short story idea: When I was very young, one of my best friends learned she had been adopted. We all know that people really can and do say some incredibly stupid things to children. Because my mother had very blond hair and blue eyes and both my hair and eyes are dark brown, strangers often said to me,”And just whose little girl are you?” I began to wonder whether I, too, was adopted and my parents simply weren’t telling me. What if, as an adult who never questioned your origins, you learned you had been adopted. Conversely, because I myself DO have an adopted child, what if you were told you were adopted but in fact, learned you were not. Write a short story!

here’s my story

Uncle joe was talking to his 5 year old nephew jane about how he’s getting old and how she’s going to have to start doing all the chores in the house joe is a little challenged in his life because he was bullied and doesn’t know how to control his anger. he gets in an argument with jane and Joe felt anger go through his mind his temper over flows and he got so mad he started hitting her. 2 years later she was still helping around as Jane’s face would turn red and she would start throwing tempers and joe would hit her. Over the years her fachel expiration started to change form because of all the hitting. Joe heard a scream of dying devastating noise outside and went to go see what it was he lifted up a bucket and under it was the phone book. Since he had anger issues he decided to call the evil scientist and ask him to fix bullying once and for all after he went to the evil scientist house something went wrong he came back as the demon he unlocked his nephew’s room there she was. she was crying.Jane slowly turned around she was mad crazy. He ordered her to clean the dishes. Since she was so mad crazy she didn’t listen to him and she smacked him across the face the Demons face turned red he felt like someone pierced him with a needle he got so mad that he trapped her in the mirror. She was screaming for help but it just circulated around in the mirror as she was she was trapped there another duplicate appeared it was a boy. He said his name was michael. He was 7 years old the evil demon erased the kids memories and put them in a microchip. Then he put him on the streets. Someone had found him and brought him home and He had been with his new parents for years.He was great at figuring anything out a after a while he found out about his uncle Joe. Since he was so good at researching things he even found directions to his uncle’s house so he decided to go on an adventure to find his uncle joe/the Demon once he found uncle Joe he wasn’t at all happy.

Joe hit Michael and he fell to the ground and fainted .when he was just slightly awake he found a microchip it said Michael’s memories michael picked it up Joe was coming towards him with a knife

Michael woke up right away and put the microchip to his chest if he dies Jane will vanish for ever Joe stabbed Michael in the chest.luckily the microchip blocked the knife from stabbing him and the microchip went into his chest it felt like a rainbow bursting through his skin the light went into his eyes and he got his memories back. He knew everything he knew that his clone was abused and everything he was ready to sacrifice himself for his clone so he ran inside the house and did bloody jane spinning around in circles and said bloody jane bloody jane bloody jane.

He trapped himself in the mirror and Bloody Jane was back Jane through her self out of the house and went to Joe in and punched him on the floor and they had a sword fight and Joe died and bloody Jane turned into the evil bloody demon.

(I like to write with comic characters (Peter Parker, ect.) so here we go… Based on the scars short story idea)

“Where did these come from?” I flinched and hurried to cover my back and arms up. “They’re old… They don’t hurt anymore…” I frowned, remembering the pain from each one of the marks that stained my skin forever. “That’s not what I asked…” I flinched as he slid the thin jacket off my shoulders to get a better look at them. I didn’t meet his eyes as he traced over them. Long and thin lines from knives. Round ones from cigars or cigarettes. Jagged ones from glass. The giant one that curled from just below my neck, all the way around my body before stopping at my right hip. I remembered the pain from each one, the cause of each one, the people who caused each and every one of them… “Pete, It’s a really long story…” We had been dating for about a month and I didn’t want to scare him away with my sob story. “I want to know.” His voice was soft as he had me sit on the bed facing him. I looked at him for a while, trying to sort my thoughts out. We had been friends since we were six, but I had hidden everything from him. He had no clue, and I wish he still wouldn’t… I took a deep breath and began to tell the story. “I’ve kept this from everyone… Please let me tell the whole story before you ask questions or leave me. I wouldn’t blame you if you did…” “Go ahead, I’ll let you finish. But I promise, I won’t leave you.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll see… It began when I was six. My parents weren’t the best as you know… They weren’t home much. Mom went out drinking until she was hammered, Dad went out on “business” calls. He would leave almost every night, coming home with perfume on him. Mom didn’t want to believe it. She was in denial, believed that he still loved her as he did in the past… She would come home smashed and would start sobbing. I tried to help as much as I could, but I didn’t know much. I would let her hug me, and would do my best to comfort her. I learned fast that I needed to take care of her. She would wake up with a hangover and the best I could do was give her one of my favorite juice pouches and a cookie. She would start crying again and tell me that I was such a good girl. Remember when I missed school for a week?” “Yeah, the teacher said you were really sick.” “Dad and mom got into a fight. They were screaming at each other, I didn’t know what to do… I ran away from home, I went to my cousin’s house. I got to stay there the week even though he called mom. When I got home, Dad was gone and mom was passed out on the couch surrounded by empty cans of alcohol. Dad never came back after that, and mom got increasingly depressed. I didn’t know what was happening, Dad wouldn’t come home, mom was sad, I learned how to do things for myself quick because I had to support myself and mom. When I turned seven the nice elderly woman from next door began to teach me how to cook, and clean. I would make her little crafts to sell in her shop as a “payment” for the lessons. Mom barely noticed I was gone for an hour afterschool. She tried to be there for me, she would ask me how my day was, and would constantly give me hugs. I thought life was going good, that everything would be okay. Then when I was eight, everything went downhill…” He squeezed my hand slightly. “Dad came back to the house. He… He said nasty things to mom. I didn’t understand that well back then but as I grew older I understood what he said to her. He.. broke her… She wouldn’t talk anymore, refused to eat, refused to drink… After I came home from the sleepover at your house, I saw her… She, She was hanging from the ceiling, tears running down her face.” Pete looked horrified, pulling me into a hug as I continued. “The elderly woman heard my scream, and rushed over to see me staring at my mother screaming and sobbing. She called the cops, quickly getting her to the ground, checking her pulse. I was taken to the woman’s home, the police announced her dead and found a letter…” “I knew she passed but didn’t know what happened exactly…” Pete’s voice was quiet. “Dad got custody over me. He didn’t like the fact that I looked like mom. He… He did things. He let his ‘friends’ do things. I was nine at the time, and he sold me to his ‘friend’ for the night. Gave him 10 bucks to have his way with me. I tried to fight back but…” Pete looked livid. “I felt sick, the bad thing is that I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb, emotionally and physically. You and the others were the only ones that made me feel something… It continued until I was twelve, I had tried to fight but it was pointless. One day, Dad had enough of it. He slapped me, kicked me, cut me, burned me… He let his ‘friends’ have their way with me. The reason I began to miss more and more school was because of him. I got lucky sometimes and was able to sneak out and see you. He would add a new mark to the collection each time. Then when I was fifteen, he got drunk. He.. Had his way with me, then threatened to kill me if I said anything. Aunt May was the one to notice, the one day I came over she saw a glimpse of them… I confided in her, I didn’t want you to know because you would look at me differently. Or give up on me and that would have killed me… Dad found out when May called the cops on him. He was not happy, the longest scar was his attempt to kill me. The police did a search, and the court plead him guilty. I was in the hospital that month I missed school… My cousin got custody of me, then the accident happened, and I got my abilities. That’s pretty much it… I guess you’ll be leaving then?” I lowered my head, waiting for the rejection. “I told you. I’ll never leave you. I love you too much to do that. I’m glad you told me…” He pulled me into a tight hug, kissing the top of my head. “Really?” I teared up a bit. “Really.” He held me as I cried. I really felt loved for once in my life… All I know is that it felt good to get that off my chest. “I don’t care about the marks. Because these scars make you look even more beautiful to me.”

( I have no idea if I did this right and I’m quite sure I might have made few mistakes but it’s worth a try)

Sometimes there are instances when you can see your own life flashing before your eyes and it gets you thinking ” Is this where I want to be? Is this the place I still want to be in another 5 years?”

I had a minor problem, a fault perhaps. I was surely and indefinitely addicted to Alcohol. Don’t get me wrong it was not that type of addiction where one would kill for a bottle of beer or something far more stronger that leaves that burning sensation down your throat and a sting behind your eyelids. It was a addiction where when I didn’t know what to do-how to react- specifically, I turned to my new found companion. It didn’t shout back at me, didn’t call me names, didn’t say that I was a worthless mistake.

Infact it welcomed me with open arms and I embraced the feeling of not caring. Sure it was a great weight off my shoulders just to forget everything for a moment and just…… be. But then I’d wake up regretting every single thing I did the night before. Trust me that plus having a blasting headache ? not the best hangover tonic.

Now here I am in front of my car trying to think yet failing since I can’t even think straight to even start thinking about thinking.

That’s when I feel it. something poking at the back of my head. A shadow looming behind me.

”Leave the keys on the ground and turn away without a second glance and you won’t get hurt.” His vice was rough and he reeked of old garbage and dried up voldka.

There I see it again. All The time I’ve spent wasting away drinking without actually doing what my 21 year old self was supposed to be doing.

I took my parents money for granted and had the time of my life. A Audi sports car, expensive designer clothes, latest IPhone, all the girls I could ever imagine. And yet I felt hollow. An empty nutshell disguised as a perfect fruit.

This is the moment I change that. This is the moment the fight back. I’m not going to whole away anymore. I won’t be that worthless mistake any more. I am Rane Alexander after all and I won’t let a label define me. I’m going to get past this hazy fog and I’ll see the horizon again.

So I turned back and grabbed the man by his arm and sling him over hard sending the gun skidding across the dim lit parking lot.

” Not today” I breathed.

Nice…well done. I thought the ending was empowering…

Standing Still

I would like to tell you a story about a girl. There was nothing special about her at all-she was simply a girl. Every day she lived in pain. She lived in her shared room feeling so alone. Everything was white: the walls, the beds, the furniture. There was no creativity in the room, no evidence of the girl’s individuality-no posters, no color, nothing. Although, she did have one orange throw pillow that she didn’t want nor like. She hated the bland, bland room. Until she was forced to live in this room she saw white as a symbol of purity, harmony, and peace. Now she saw white as a toxic color, something that wasn’t even really a color at all, something that was devoid of emotion. Every day the girl took a shower in an attempt to wash away her skin that had been tainted by the room, but that simple act of cleansing soon became tiresome and it eventually stopped working. The girl felt dirty, impure, and alone. She was afraid-so afraid. She was afraid of being alone in her shared room in a shared house of seven people. She was afraid of not being heard, of not being able to speak. She didn’t know how she felt and she didn’t know how to express it. One day, the girl stepped into her shower, and stared at the white walls and the white floors and the white curtain and the whiteness of it all and she felt numb. She felt as if the blandness of her room and of her life had finally driven her emotionless. She stood there, feeling every singular drop of water sting her skin as if she was on fire and she felt nothing. Nothing-the absence of anything-shouldn’t feel as if the world was being torn apart around her, it shouldn’t feel as though everyone and everything were pitted against her, and yet this is the way the girl felt. She forgot that she was in the shower, where she was supposed to feel refreshed and cleansed, and she forgot herself. She leaned her head against the shower wall she wondered why the walls looked as if they were in so much pain. It was as if the very walls around her were feeling just as she felt. She stood and she thought. She wondered how long she would be able to stand there, with her head resting on a cold, hard surface. She stood in the shower too long, she stood there until the hot water turned cold and even past that. She stood there until she felt as though the pain building up inside her couldn’t take it any longer. And then, she moved. She placed one hand against the tile wall and she pushed, testing her strength-the wall remained still. She thought about how meaningless her life was and how she couldn’t possibly do anything important or memorable and she felt selfish. She felt selfish for wanting to be important. She felt as though all of her thoughts were not her own and that society had simply conditioned her to think them and she felt nothing. She felt trapped. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, no friends to run to, nothing. She felt alone. Her worst fear was unfolding as she began to panic. She thrashed in the shower as she desperately gasped for air, feeling nothing. Maybe she should stop gasping for air, maybe she should just give up. But no, she had to keep fighting. She turned and she turned the dreaded water off and it stopped. Just like that, it stopped, and she felt nothing yet again. She stood there, water dripping down her body, and she thought. She thought about how many mistakes she made and how many lies she’d told. She regretted everything. She wanted to stop feeling. She wanted to undo all of her wrongdoings and she wished she could fix the people she’d broken. She wished so desperately to fix herself. She stopped, she told herself to snap out of it and she felt nothing. She turned and she pulled back the bland, white curtain. She slowly took a step and then another. She stood right outside the shower and let herself feel the cold, rigid air on her skin because feeling something was better than nothing, right? She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself to shield her small, fragile body from the cold. She stood there outside of the shower, and she felt vulnerable. She felt neglected. She felt as if nobody cared at all. She truly thought that she had no one. She sat down on the cold tile bathroom floor and she felt defeated. She felt as if she could no longer go one. She stared at the water dripping from the faucet and she thought about how easy it would be to corrupt these white walls with her own blood just as they had tainted her with pain and sorrow and misery. She sat for what felt like hours and she thought. She realized that she couldn’t do what she so desperately wanted to do because she was just too afraid. She thought about spilling her own blood, just to leave at least a little bit of herself in that lonely room that would never truly be hers. She came so close-oh so close-to giving up, but then she remembered. She remembered a person and how that person made her feel. She remembered a smile like no other. She remembered arms that held her so tight and close that she actually felt safe. She remembered a face, a gorgeous face, that lit up the moment its eyes layed on her. She remembered feeling loved, so she stood up, turned to the door, walked into the white room, and the girl lived on to see another day, another sunrise, and another beautiful moment.

And I have a secret-that girl, that terrible terrible girl, is me.

I have a blog and have uploaded 190 articles and short stories averaging 1000-1400 words. 70% were political. My writing is purely a hobby although I did send one story to a publisher and they wrote that they liked it but being an unknown author I would be required to contribute £2,500 towards the cost of publishing this children’s picture book which was 800 words long. Is this normal?.

So far I have had 43,000 hits worldwide on my blog I am now writing fiction for girls aged between 12-17 and children’s picture books..

IS THIS NORMAL?.

Is this normal ?

I will get up off the chair and head for the PC, I will type two lines. At this stage they are nothing but the release of vague reflections triggered by my imagination. I may not use them but they have to escape the clutter and disarray of my thoughts and be planted like a seedling. Those two lines on a blank screen when germinated can blossom into an article, a story or a book; the blank computer screen is not unlike the painter’s blank palette waiting for the first glimmer of his/her artistry. A line of text can do the same, although it need not even be a line of text, one word can suffice.

The first line read “It was the evening of the annual Concert and Dance at……….. ” I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

Those two lines on a blank screen when germinated can blossom into an article, a story or a book; the blank computer screen is not unlike the painter’s blank palette waiting for the first glimmer of his/her artistry. A line of text can do the same, although it need not even be a line of text, one word can suffice.

The first line read “It was the evening of the annual Concert and Dance at the Denham College” I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

I turned the Pee Cee off and I went to bed. The next day the story took root and blossomed… ….

Here a poem…

Roses are red Violets are blue I love you Do you love me?

Times I sit and think of you In hope as you think of me Your smile just makes me melt As I know my makes you melt.

I know you think I’m silly But you love me for it.

I hope this puts a smile on your face As it does my as I wrote it.

The sky is blue, the grass is green and the sun is warm just like my heart that beats for you. You make me smile more then the beautiful flowers that bloom under the warmth of spring and you put a sparkle in my eyes more then the stars shine in the night sky. You light my path better then a full moon in a clear night sky.

You are beautiful and I love you too.

It lights up my heart to see the words I write to you. I never thought I would ever meet someone like you. I have told you things happen for a reason and so they do. I want spend every waking moment to show you how I feel. My heart belongs to the moat amazing woman I know. Baby, that is you. I know here lately I’ve been hard to love but I promise things will get better. You are my rock and sanitary you keep me going when I think I can’t. I love u with all my heart, mind, body and soul. You’re my FOREVER. Just one more thing to say.

Don’t give up on me because I will make all your dreams come true in one way or another. I will love you until I take my last breath. Just keep on loving me for I know I am you’re Forever Love…..

That is the biggest poem I’ve ever seen

Merp, I like this

Beware: Bad language. These are two dispicible people being told honestly.

————-

Stew bent down and grabbed the dead man’s feet. “Because they’re faggots, that’s why. Why you care?”

Phil bent over and grabbed the dead man’s shoulders. “I just don’t think we should generalize people like that. That’s all.”

“One. Two. Three. Up.” They lifted the dead man off the pavement and shuffled over to the trunk of their Volkswagen. “I don’t give a fuck what you don’t think, they’re still dick-suckers. On three again. One. Two. Three.” They tossed the man into the trunk. Stew grabbed the dead man’s legs and contorted them in such a way that his fat ass fit inside, then he tossed a sheet over the body and slammed the trunk shut. “Queers, Phil. God ain’t got no love for a man sucking off another man.”

Phil was wiping his hands with a kerchief. When he was done he stuffed it back in his back pocket. The left one. “Maybe God doesn’t care, neither? Maybe we’re the ones, as a society, making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.”

Stew licked his thumb and rubbed it on his left tail light, smearing a dot of blood and making it worse. “Gimme’ a rag, would ya’?” Phil fetched a rag out of the backseat of the VW and tossed it to Stew. He spit on the rag and then wiped the taillight raw. “It’s in the fuckin’ bible, man. God said a man and a woman, not a man and a man. Now, don’t get me wrong, I got no problem with women dating women. I mean, come on, it’s sexy as hell. But two guys wagging their weiner’s in each other’s faces? Fucking gross.”

Phil stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it, closing his eyes and inhaling. He opened his eyes and exhaled. A kid on a bike rode by, tossing a newspaper wrapped in a blue bag on the edge of the driveway. Phil watched the boy as he pedaled away, dumping papers on every driveway down the street. “Maybe the bible does say that,” he said, turning back to Stew. “Why’s it our business, though? Long as they keep it between them, how’s it hurting you?”

“It’s the principle of the motherfuckin’ thing,” Stew said, tossing the rag to Phil.

Phil sidestepped out of the way and let the rag fall to the ground. “Fuck off, dude. I don’t want his fucking blood on my new suit.”

“Well at least put it in the trash.” Stew wiped his hands down his pants, at which Phil cringed, then walked over and opened the driver side door. “We gotta meet Don in half an hour and we’re runnin’ late. Let’s go.”

“Stop for a taco?” Phil asked, bending over and grabbing the rag between two fingers.

“Sure. I’m starving.”

I Tried This is what i have so far…:

Isra Sonnet liked the quiet. Which was why she wished she were back home with her parents back in California, her cousin Eric was snoring very loud on the top bunk of the beds. She tried to block out the noise, but he seemed to be getting louder, and louder with each snort. Having enough of this, Isra grabbed her pillow and climbed up with it.

Holding steady onto the ledge of the bed, she smacked him with it. Hard.

Waking up with a start Eric looked at Isra annoyed.

“What is wrong with you? I was trying to sleep!” He flings the pillow on by his face,to the floor.

“You’re loud enough to wake the dead. Stop snoring like an old man.”

“If you’re so mad about it go sleep somewhere else…” Eric says drifting back to sleep, too tired to argue.

Sighing Isra climbed back down to her bunk bed. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Eric would start snoring again. Gathering her pillow from the floor and the blanket from her bed, she walked out of the room closing the door behind her.

Now, it was quite dark in the house. Though, Isra knew her way around the house from memory. She was careful to go down the stairs, and not to make too much noise to wake Eric’s parents.

In the living room Isra made herself comfortable on one of the couches. Placing her pillow down and wrapping herself in the warmth of her blanket comforted her. She sighed in relief. Now she could finally sleep.

I really like it. It’s very detailed in my opinion. I’ve read a book like that called… “Wish”. I want to publish all six of my books when I get older. I’M ONLY NINE so maybe when i’m in my 20’s

dont worry about your age. you can be just as good as any other writer. i am only twelve and i am almost finished writing my book that i am hoping to publish. go for your dreams, dont let your age stop you.

I’m 16 and have published my first book, best experience of my life, I am very close to publishing my 2nd book and sooo excited! Don’t worry about your age, the younger the better I say! You go girl and good luck with your writing career. You are a very gifted young lady! Xx

If you want to publish your books, why not now? There isn’t a law against young authors. I’m not much older than you, but my book is being published this year. All you need is the money to publish–that’s the REAL hard part for a younger writer.

Hey, don’t worry, I’m eleven and I deeply enjoy writing, and I’m looking to get a book published very soon. There’s no law forbading youngsters from getting books published… In fact, becoming a young author is one of the VERY BEST things you could do to benefit you in the future.

Yea I’m 11 and I’m gonna start writing stories on an app called Wattpad

It’s a great way to get feed back and to start sharing your stories.

The temperature was searing. Tara squinted her eyes as wavy lines of heat danced in the distance. Michael shuffled out of the taxi behind her and bent to drop 30 pesos in the driver’s expectant hand. “Why did we have to come all the way to Acapulco just to get our teeth cleaned?” Tara whined like a child dreading the dentist. “We’re not just getting our teeth cleaned”, Michael explained, “I need 4 crowns, you could use some fillings, and dental work is so much cheaper in Mexico. Plus, it’ll be like a vacation as soon as we’re finished. I have 3 days of the most romantic stuff planned for us, just wait.” Tara smiled at the thought of what Michael’s idea of “romantic stuff” could be. It was 9:15 am Thursday, if all went to plan, they would be partying on the beach Friday night. The shop they had been dropped off in front of was a modest, stucco covered building with one dark window bearing a small sign that read “Dentista”. They were 45 minutes early for their appointments but hopefully that meant they would be done sooner. 30 minutes and 16 pages of paperwork later, they were ushered down a brightly lit corridor to a room containing an x-ray machine. Once finished there, they were led to adjoining rooms. Each contained nothing more than a large, green dental chair, procedure light, and metal rolling cart filled with shiny, sharp instruments. “The dentist will be right in,” said the plump assistant in a thick Mexican accent. Since the office saw so many tourists, the staff all spoke in English, and this reassured Tara that it wasn’t so bad after all. She was looking up at a poster of an aquarium filled with fish that was taped to the ceiling when the dentist strode in. He was tall, about 6 feet, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a brilliantly white smile. While peering at her x-ray films, he rattled off a list of work that she needed, and she agreed, not really understanding just wanting to get it over with. The plump assistant appeared and placed a mask over Tara’s nose and mouth as she crooned, “To make you comfortable!” The last thing she noticed before she lost consciousness was the poodle print scrubs the assistant was wearing. Tara woke up being shaken by Michael. “Come on let’s go, I’ve been finished for an hour.” She groggily sat up and placed her hand to her warm, swollen cheek. The assistant was back, handing Michael prescriptions for pain killers and giving him instructions not to eat for 2 hours. They stepped outside into the bright sun and began walking slowly towards the nearest intersection where they could hail a cab. After a short taxi ride they arrived at Hotel Catedral, a quaint, boutique inn on the outskirts of the city. The room was cramped, but clean, and after a quick shower, they both laid down and quickly fell asleep. The next 2 days were spent drinking, lounging on the beach, and making love. Tara awoke late Sunday morning and started packing. While she would miss relaxing on the beach, she couldn’t wait to get back home to her apartment. Her stomach had been bothering her on and off throughout the trip and she thought it may have been the water she was drinking. They took a taxi to the airport and the trip home was uneventful except for a few severe stomach pains Tara had on the flight. She took a few more pain pills and they eased up enough for her to take a nap. They barely had time to walk through the door when Tara felt a sudden urge and bolted to the bathroom. “Are you okay?” Michael called from the hall. “Fine, just gimme a minute!” Tara snapped, and Michael went in to the living room and laid down on the couch. When Tara had finished in the bathroom, she stood up and saw something strange in the toilet. It looked like what appeared to be several small balloons floating in the water. “What the…” Tara stared confused, and called for Michael to come into the bathroom. He popped his head in the door and looked at her questioningly. She pointed to the toilet and he shook his head as if to say, “I’m not going in there.” Tara walked to the sink and grabbed a pair of tweezers sitting near the mirror. When she reached towards the toilet, Michael yelped, “What are you doing?!” “Shush, hold on!” she said. She pulled back the tweezers and pinched in the end was one of the balloons. She carried it to the sink and quickly rinsed it off. Michael came closer and said, “That came out of you?” ‘Yeah, gimme something to cut it open.” He produced his pocket knife and she proceeded to make a small slice down the center of the balloon. A white powdery substance spilled from the cut. “Oh my god, it looks like drugs! Tara exclaimed. “How did this get inside me? It must have been the dentist! I told you we shouldn’t have went down there for dental work! What are we gonna do?” “Maybe we should go to the emergency room and get checked out? Michael suggested. “Ok but we should just say our stomachs are hurting and not say anything about the drugs. We don’t want them thinking it’s ours and taking us to jail.” After spending 4 hours in the ER, a CAT scan and bloodwork, the couple was assured that they were in perfect health and probably ate something bad. They headed home, relieved there were no more foreign objects in their bodies but worried about what to do about the dentist. “He can’t get away with this, said Tara excitedly, he probably does this to tourists all the time!” “But if we call the police and tell them our story, they might think we’re involved somehow,” said Michael. They arrived back at their small Austin apartment and decided to eat some dinner and think the matter over some more without rushing to alert the police. After all they were safe at home and had no plans on leaving the country any time soon. Maybe they could just put this whole thing behind them like a bad dream. A crazy story to tell the grandkids. Once the dishes for dinner had been washed and Tara was settling down on the sofa next to Michael, a knock sounded at the door. “Who could that be? “Michael asked. He got up, slowly walked to the door, and peeped through the eyehole. On the other side of the door were 3 well-dressed Latino men. The one standing closest to door was dressed in black pants and jacket with a tucked-in turquoise shirt. He spoke first. “We know you’re in there and you have something that belongs to our boss.”

I wrote two stories so far Murderous Twins (Mystery) and Pregnant at 18 (Drama n Romance) total words for both 27000

THANK YOU FOR THIS. I LOVE TO WRITE AND I NEEDED INSPIRATION!!!

My First Story.. I woke up late that morning, too excited to sleep at first and then I don’t remember when I dozed off to sleep early morning. Bright sunlight hit my half open eyes and I jumped off from the bed. It was 8:00 am already.

“Mama … why didn’t you wake me up? Has he left already?” Mother smiled “Its Sunday! Didn’t felt like waking you up from deep sleep you were in, besides you must have been dreaming, there was beautiful smile on your face. And don’t worry Papa won’t go without you.”

I was super relived and ran to hall, where my dad was ready, waiting for me. “We are going to City, right?” He simply nodded and smiled “Now get ready else we will miss the bus”

I ran to bathroom for shower and within seconds was out and in front of mirror combing my hairs. “Dry them properly, your hairs are wet, you’ll catch cold”

But here I was holding my dad’s hand and pulling him out of the door. We took bus from the bus stop and were on our way to City.

Finally the day had arrived when I was going to get my first Bicycle. It all started when my dad promised to get me Bicycle if I score good marks in final exam next year. All my friends had their own bicycle. Even my juniors had their own.

I patiently waited for one year to get my dream bike.

On the result day I was very nervous. When there was announcement that I stood first in 5th C, I jumped up in air and almost snatched my report card from our class Teachers hands.

I was telling everybody on my way back that I was going to get bicycle, since I stood first in class. After reaching home I told mom about the result and she was very happy. Then dad came back from work in the evening, he was very happy to hear about my results and patted on my back.

“So you are going to get me Bicycle” I said with glimmer in my eyes. “Let’s see” he simply said taking off his shoes

I was almost broken in tears to hear those words. He had not said no but neither did he say yes. I broke down “this is not fair, you promised”.

Next day, mom broke the news to me that finally I am going to get my Bike this Sunday.

Squeezing sound of halting break of bus brought me back to present. “We have reached, Lets go” said dad.

We reached the Big Bicycle store in Gol market. There were so many bikes, I just couldn’t take my eyes off. I picked the one with Marron color. Salesman explained the features to me. I looked at dad expectantly, he nodded and I hugged him.

Dad went in to meet the shop manager, I waited outside to see my bike being assembled by the worker. I saw dad having conversation with the shop owner. I don’t know what was wrong but dad came out.

“Let’s go now we will come next week, and take this Bike home” dad said with his fingers in my hairs. I couldn’t believe my ears. After waiting for almost a year I am getting my bike and now he is saying to wait for one more week.

I threw his hand away in disgust and ran away to hug my bike and started crying. Dad tried to convince me that He had assumed the Price of Bicycle to be lot less. And now he doesn’t have enough cash to buy this bike.

But I refused to budge down. I was so much carried away by anger, I couldn’t see the nervous face of my father. It must have been really awkward for him to face this situation.

“Okay. Let me see what can be done!” he went in. I waited outside partly sobbing and partly smiling.

Few moments later dad came out smiling. I knew he had bought the bike and we were going to be taking it home today. This was happiest day of my life.

It took me few years to understand that my dad had sold his ring that day to fulfill my wish!

This is what I’ve got so far:

Capt. Lee asked for interrogation volunteers. The Interrogation Rooms were full and there weren’t enough interrogators. Lt. Jones volunteered. She told him thee was a suspect in Interrogation room D. Should be easy — a straight-up homicide. Just tape the confession.

Entering IR D, he saw an inconspicuous middle-aged man. Inconspicuous? Maybe 100 years ago.

Lt. Jones introduced himself and sat down. He sat down and said he was there to get the man’s side of the story. Then he turned on the recorder. The man looked at him with amusement. “Do you really want my confession” he asked. Jones said he needed the man’s name and address first. “All right. I am Daniel Alan James, address 132321 Atlantic Avenue, Plot D3.”

Jones looked up sharply. “That’s a cemetery. Your real address please.” I get the nuts, he thought.

“I am not ‘pulling your leg’ as you so quaintly think. That is my address.”

“As to my confession. In 1869 in Palm Beach, I burgled May Palmer’s house I got a sackful of jewelry. I also hacked off her head. Sternly he looked at Jones. “You kept that back. He acted like that fact should have been publusged,, like he wanted credit for it.

“In 1920, in Miami Beach, I attended a speakeasy. I abducted a somewhat plump girl, Cynthia Handel, and eventually disposed her of in the Dismal Swamp.” Chuckling, he continued. You could say the alligators had a fine meal that night.

In 1936, Cleveland, Ohio. I presume you’ve heard of the Torso Murders there? The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run? It was never solved. Poor Eliot Ness — he wanted so badly to be Mayor of Cleveland and not just Safety Director. That case would have given him the Mayor’s office. I denied him that.””I

Above the gables of the orphanage roof, a tremulous, gentle sound began to keen. It began quietly, as oh so fragile a thing. I held my breath where I had awakened in my bed to keep from drowning it out- the sound of a human singing through a violin.

I knew exactly who it was that sang. She had come in just that day, eyes wide, mouth closed, and a violin case clutched to her chest like it was the only thing she had left in the world. I was older than her and so in a different dormitory, but still the sound found its way, sorrowfully, lovingly, through the still night air.

The sound of it made me want to cry, as it stirred in me a pain I’d long ago learned to shove away, the origin of which was the only thing that me and the little virtuoso child shared. It unfurled itself deep within me, reaching out for the sound as it grew, grew louder and more powerful as the beginning upset turned to something more violent, something filled with righteous indignation at what had happened to her… to… to me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I curled into my pillow as I fought the onslaught of emotions. The anger, the injustice, the harrowing *grief*. It all slashed and dove and resonated through the air- through my soul. I curled around the reopened wound, feeling the unreleased cry of pain inside of me. But the tears still fell. They were like rain.

Suddenly the vibrancy in the tone fell flat. The last ringing note was undulating through the air, twisting with fading passion, as a quieter, stiller strain took its place. Dispirited and exhausted, the muted notes struggled to find me, and I imagined them getting lost. It was both a relief and a loss as I felt the raw emotions drain away. It felt… hollow. It was like how I usually felt only much, much worse, the sheer weight of it making it a pain all its own, although it signified the absence of it. It was a rock I couldn’t push off my chest, or a vacuum inside of me. It *hurt*.

Still, my eyes dried as I listened to the dispassionate, lilting notes. They bumped into each other with pattern but no passion. The lack of colour in it compared to everything else the little violin girl had played almost made me want to cry again- for her this time, instead of me. I wanted to comfort her. To tell her that she could find a family here again… even if it wasn’t the same.

But then- then something magical happened. I heard something in a note shift. Just ever so slightly, regaining some of its lost fullness. My heart jumped against my rib cage at it, like a baby bird too eager to be out of the nest. The sound broadened and deepened, spinning and growing to an unimaginable size and intensity, filled with such thought and memory as one can only know inside themselves. I couldn’t imagine that something of such monumental size was coming from such a tiny person and her instrument- no, her partner. Her friend. It had to be her friend to join her in all this.

The graceful creature grew and grew on when I thought it could grow more. Time had lost all meaning to me as it tapered and streamlined itself into something lighter- losing its weight and despair- but not its memory. That stayed. I could feel it within me, too- the warmth that was spreading through the song. It touched at my fingers and toes, the tip of my nose, and the center of my belly. I let out a breath as the weight- the vacuum, whatever it was- released, no longer afraid of it or drowning out the soaring melody that cozied into the corners of the resting place of me and so many others that had experienced what this other child was experiencing right now.

But I knew, as the music carried on through the night, a peaceful balance between love and light and sorrow, that she was going to be just fine. We were all going to be just fine.

This inspired me so i tried it came up with this so far

Things have been difficult lately. Even breathing seems to take a lot of effort. But grief often shuts people down. And everything seems to blur out. You must be wondering what broke me? Nothing just the same old heartbreak that broke souls in every time period.

That night I made my way Aden’s house. We had been dating for almost four years. He had asked me to marry him a week ago and I had to ask my parents if they accepted they’re daughter to get married at 21. To my surprise my parents had said yes and I was on my way to blow Aden’s mind with the amazing news. I rang his doorbell several times even though I knew where they key to the door was kept but manners were still important. After fifteen minutes of standing out the door my mind started exploding with thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking about. Aden’s car was still parked in the garage which meant that he was still home. I rushed to get the keys from under a plant pot and opened the door. Aden’s house was a mess but Aden was a clean freak. I made my way to Aden’s room and gently opened the door to see my whole world crashing in front of me.

Aden lay in bed with another women pressed to his side as they slept. No words, no tears just an apology. Just two words “ I’m sorry “ and I ran down the stairs, across the street and away from the person I had given my everything.

You see every person leaves a mark behind. But Aden , Aden left behind the deepest scars.

(please don’t judge, I’m only 12. And btw I’m a girl. I’m using my dad’s account)

It’s dark. My own shadows drown me. This is nothing new to me though, I’m not shocked or scared. Just lonely. Nothing to look forward to I’ll thing myself sitting and think, hoping. I don’t know how long this lasts, seconds, minutes, hours. I can’t sense the time passing, I don’t fully understand it. I don’t know how I got here or when I’ll leave. My life feels like it has no meaning. But yet, somehow I feel like I’m waiting for something, this longing for something to happen. But at this moment in time…I’m not really sure. I must have had more than this life, I must have lived in something different, color, happiness, friends, family….love…maybe, or is that me dreaming?

Have I lost my mind completely now. Maybe I’m not even here, In this darkness. Am I just mad? Why am I even asking…I’ll never get an answer. Sitting here hoping dreaming will do me no good! I must fight back. I’m not sure what I’m fighting for but if I do have a motive to fight then it must be worth it. Without thinking I lunge into the dark clouds. Fighting, not with any weapons but just by my longing for whatever is outside this lonely cage. The chains of my fear and uncertainty tug at my arms pulling me back but using all my force I shake them off and continue forward through the endless darkness…This place must end. There must be an ending for me, more than this dark realm. I jump forward, ready to scream as I hit the floor but I don’t have to. I didn’t fall…Am I..floating?

No, I don’t feel like I’m standing. I feel something on my hand but I can’t see what it is or even move to shake it off. Then I suddenly realize. The thought that I’ll no longer be lonely, this thing I feel, it’s a person. These thoughts, my feelings they allow me to take control. I slowly open my eyes. It all shoots my at once colour…light! I’m lying down on a bed, a hospital bed. My memories come soaring back. I look over to my right hand and see the lady holding it, in shock, but smiling brightly. It’s my mother! And in what seems like the longest time ever…I smile.

Clark stood at the window and watch as the first snow started to fall. He thought back to when he was a little boy and how he loved to go outside and play in the snow. The snowmen him and his sister would build, the snowball fights him and his friends would have. Then his smile changed to a sad face. He remember the last first snow fall that happen when he was a kid. That was the last time he was happy about seeing the snow. Clark’s father Ernest was at the local convenience store, when two mask men came in to rob the place. One of the robbers told Ernest to give him his wallet. He did but a long noise from the back of the store in scared the robber that he jumped and the gun he had pointed at Clark’s father went off and shot him in the chest.

Clark was home in the bed, but he jumped up out of his sleep, he felt that something was wrong. He got out the bed and went looking for his mother. When he got to the end of the hall he saw his mother at the door talking to some police. She turned when she heard the floor Creek. ” Clark honey, what are you doing up”? His mother asked with blood soaking red eyes . ” mother is everything alright? ” with every step he took closer to his mother he knew that what ever reason the police was at his house it wasn’t good. Every since that Dreadful night Clark, the night his dad was killed, he has hated the snow. It always seems to remind him of that night. It’s like all the good times he had in the snow was replace by the death of his dad, his hero, the man he wanted to grow up and be. They never did find the guys that robbed that convenience store.

Conceited Conflict

Simon did not die…

The inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee had been enough to persuade him to walk straight into the little beach-side shack without as much as a second thought. He had made a mental note to thank Danny–his colleague and friend–for suggesting the place for a quick getaway.

People close to Simon knew that he savored these small pleasures of life: a peaceful evening relaxing at the beach, the blushing horizon as the sun set for the day, the scents of the tropical sea, the areca nut trees swaying to the music of the breeze, the waves at the shallow end lightly caressing his feet, the warm texture of the sand slipping away beneath his toes, children running around flying colorful kites… cocoa-rich dark chocolates, and fresh coffee.

And why not? After all, he thought, what was life without these? Nothing but a stressful grind, it was. To fight the distressing official battles day in and day out. To struggle to defeat the unethical schemes of the back-stabbing lot who lurked among colleagues and friends. To come back home to the nagging demands of a materialistic spouse. All that did nothing good for the soul.

It was late evening when Simon had walked toward the shack. When he got closer, he had noticed two men standing engulfed by the dark shadows behind the shack. Although he could not discern their features, and they were speaking only in whispers, their body language had betrayed the fact that they had been exchanging an agitated conversation.

As Simon was about to enter the shack, one of the men thrust a wad of money into the other’s hand. The other man briefly regarded the bundle before stuffing it into his trouser pocket.

A drug deal, likely–Simon had thought–or some other such shady business. How could these people come to such spectacular and peaceful places and engage in such disreputable and squalid acts? What a disgusting lot!

He had shaken his head to clear his thoughts, and inhaled deeply as he entered the shack. Freshly brewed coffee! He had smiled as he sat at a small, round, plastic table in a corner. All other concerns would have to wait for half an hour, at least.

Outside, unknown to Simon, the deal had been concluded. The men had followed up by exchanging a small vial of some sort. Then one of them had raised the hood of his jacket over his head and walked away swiftly without turning back, with his hands in his pockets. The other man had vanished into the darker shadows behind the shack.

The next afternoon…

Although–when it concerned professional life–Danny lacked severely in the department of moral and ethical values, he was regarded in their circles as a gem when it concerned friendship. He had rushed to the hospital at once when Simon’s wife had called. Dysentery–she had told him, repeating the doctor’s diagnosis–perhaps acute food poisoning. Very severe symptoms. Quite unbearable. Must have been something he ate yesterday.

Danny had stayed on at the hospital with Simon’s wife to lend her moral and emotional support. He wanted to make sure–he had said–that she got all the help she needed; he wanted to make sure that Simon recovered all right.

The third evening…

Simon rested motionless on a bed at St Sebastian Hospital. Motionless. Still. He wasn’t even breathing. He was finally free of all suffering.

Epilogue 1…

Normally, convincing a chemist and obtaining the required substance might have been the biggest challenge. On this occasion, however, a well-maintained friendship with a pharmaceutical assistant had proved quite rewarding.

The rest was simple to plan and execute. Simple did not mean without risk, but in this case the desired reward would be sufficient compensation for the risk.

The dosage would be just right. The doctor would have only the patient’s symptoms to go on, which would be easily mistaken for those of common diseases such as food poisoning or dysentery.

It would all be over even before anyone suspected foul play. Even if other signs did manifest afterwards, there was no incriminating evidence.

Epilogue 2…

Simon had felt the first signs of fatigue when he was almost half way back home from his getaway spot. He had believed that the nausea was caused by travel-sickness. Later that night his condition had become worse, and next morning he had tried home remedies for diarrhea. By afternoon, he had started discharging blood, and had to be hospitalized immediately.

Danny had stood by his bed in the hospital, looking in his weak eyes, holding his hand reassuringly. Behind those heavy eyelids, in those weak eyes about to close, Danny had seen a faint spark of realization. The reality of the deal he had witnessed behind the coffee shack had dawned on Simon. I wish you understood, my friend–Danny had thought–that it was nothing personal, that everything is fair in professional rivalry. In any case, it was too late now. There was no turning back.

Don’t strain yourself trying to talk–Danny had said–Just close your eyes, let go and relax.

— End —

(I’m only 12 so don’t judge me, I tried :D)

I’m alone. I’m surrounded by darkness. I’m lonely, I have no-one except silence to keep me company. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here…Minutes, hours….days? They mean nothing to me, I don’t know how time passes and why it matters. I’m too close to giving up. Surely my life must mean something. I can’t have been made to just be nothing, to exist only feeling, loneliness and fear. The fear of being forgotten, by this world, by myself. If I’m not already.

There must be meaning for me, something bugger, better. It’s all I want, all I ever dream about. A life with meaning, color, happiness…family. But that’s just a dream. That can’t be real, I have no memories out of this place why would I be suddenly be gifted such happiness. Is this it? I am going mad? Have I been here so long just lost my mind? No. That can’t be. I can’t give up, I must try….try escape this realm of darkness. I stand up, shaking slightly. No, I must be strong! I run forward, not sure where I’m going. Not sure if this place even ends.

I start hearing voices, they’re speaking to me… “stay…strong…everything’s going to be ok” I hear the voice saying. It was comforting, gentle and kind sounded. It sounds familiar….I run faster, using all of strength. I race through the darkness, wind smacking my face until I come to what looks like the edge. It was a drop, so deep I couldn’t see the bottom. Without thinking, using all my desire, the want to be somewhere with meaning and happiness I lunge forward and jump.

I…I didn’t fall. I’m alive, I think. I don’t feel like I’m standing. Wait, am I floating? No, don’t be silly. I’m…lying. I feel something touch my hand but I don’t have strength to even shake it off. I can’t see anything…Then suddenly reality hits me. I slowly open my eyes…It all hits me at once: Color, sound, people. I look over to my right hand to see who was holding it. She was crying but smiling at the same time. It was mother. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I smiled.

“I’m borrowing one of your geese.”

Asta jumped in her seat by the fireplace, woken from her accidental nap. She whirled in her seet to see Jeppa, the slightly unhinged neighbour, filling the doorframe. He looked like any regular farmer, brown coveralls and pipe dangling from the side of his mouth, but sported a permanent wide-eyed stare that made the children (and everyone else) wary of him. Asta had half a mind to go back to sleep and let Jeppa be Jeppa, but curiousity got the best of her.

“Pardon?” She asked, slowly getting up, her arthritis crackling in her knees. “You’re borrowing what?”

“I’m borrowing one of your geese,” He repeated, unblinking. Then he turned on the spot, as if the conversation was over and done with.

“But why?” Asta exclaimed, hopping after him on stiff legs into the front yard. Three of her large, snowy geese were drowsily waddling through the hole in her white fence as Jeppa marched over and seized one of them by the neck. The other two hurried into a nearby hedgerow, abandoning their brother to fate. Jeppa stood there for a moment and admired the view over Asta’s fields, completely obvious to the furious flapping and hissing of the goose.

“What are you doing? Let go of him!” Asta cried, but Jeppa remained blissfully ignorant to the chaos he created.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Jeppa sighed happily, still unblinking. Then, remembering why he was strangling a goose, he heaved it up under one arm and took off towards his own rickety cottage a few hundred yards down the gravel road.

“Wait!” Asta cried, limping after him. When she finally caught up to him he was crawling up a worn ladder propped against his roof, hissing goose tucked into his armpit as if it was nothing more than the daily newspaper.

Finding her best old-angry-crone voice, she howled; “Jeppa! Get down this instant! What on earth are you doing with Herman?”

This seemed to reach the decision centre in Jeppa’s head, and he stopped on the topmost rung. He stared at the wobbly chimney for a moment, as if pondering its existence, before replying. “I can’t afford a chimney sweep,” he commented simply. Then, with both hands, he heaved the goose up in one fluent motion and dumped it into the chimney. The hissing and flapping increased in volume, projected into the open air by the narrow chimney, until it became unbearable to listen to. Then it stopped. The goose must have fallen into his fireplace.

Asta’s mouth fell open. She sat down on her bum like a baffled toddler.

“Are you alright there? You look like you saw a ghost!” Jeppa chuckled obliviously as he descended from the roof and moved to let the goose out of his kitchen. The moment the door opened, a great, fluffy black thing scuttled out and down the road, hisses and quacks flying about it like the soot covering it.

“That,” Asta said, her voice quivering, “was my prized competition goose, Herman.”

Jeppa finally seemed to realise the extent of his actions. Wringing his hands he inched towards the door, hoping to use it for protection when she exploded, which she was bound to do.

“Isn’t… isn’t there a competition for black geese, perhaps?” Jeppa asked, hopefully unblinking.

Most short story ideas I have are too big write in just one sitting. The first one I wrote took months. It’s why I can’t write flash fiction.

I’m trying to write Flash Fiction. I love the challenge. It’s amazing how you can cut out redundant word from each editing. Try it, Sebastian. It’s good practice.

Okay, here goes: Persephone, Persephone Akeldama. She was a beautiful girl, slender waist, flowing blonde locks, petite figure. This quiet girl was often referred to by her fellow students as the “perfect doll”, due to her stunning looks and the love she received from the teachers. In a the darker half of this world, her nickname was not much different. The flawless puppet, she was called. Flawless because of her swift assassinations, and puppet because of her emotionless features. No one in school knew her profession, and no one in the dark world knew her real age, or even what she looked like. She was a complete mystery to both sides, only this was known about her: She is a prodigy. Of course, “Prodigy” meaning different things in either sides of the world. There was a large gap between prodigy killer and prodigy student. Not many assassins are born into their jobs, Persephone being an exception. At three, she was already trained to fight, and at the early age of twelve, she was already a well known assassin. due to her quick learning, her parents payed even more attention to her, punishing her whenever her actions did not fit into the range of perfection, training her more than any twelve year old should ever have to endure. And of course, making her kill. One by one, Persephone’s emotions died, every person she killed, every order she received. She carried them out with swift and deadly accuracy, losing all her innocence. Her purity was lost long ago.

So she found nothing wrong with killing her parents.

Persephone never loved anyone, because she was a killing machine, exactly how her parents had designed her. Her mothers last words: I’m so proud. Her fathers? :I’ve trained you well. A now orphaned Persephone felt no remorse, no guilt, no grief. Only a small pang of loneliness.

And that was the last emotion she would ever feel.

Ummmm, I got the juices flowing, just need my writing to flow……in the right direction.

So I combined all 10 of the “general ideas” into one premise. I think this is more the premise of a collection now… Oh well. Here’s the premise (or the rough draft)

As a child, Kell, a painting prodigy, discovers her parents’ dead bodies, leaving her emotionally scarred. Later in life, she clings to her boyfriends for moral support, which leads to many failed relationships. Her Fiance and colleague breaks up with her because he needs to spend more time on his work, even though it crushes both of them. Kell doesn’t look when she’s walking down the street, sobbing, and she bumps into her rich soulmate, Neil. They have a whirlwind romance, which ends up with their marriage. On their honeymoon, though, Kell’s mother’s ghost confronts her and warns her to delay the journey. Kell and Neil go anyways. A hurricane strikes, and the couple is stranded with a phycopath who just so happen to be Kell’s parents’ murderer. The couple doesn’t make it out alive.

I know that’s pretty dark, especially for a 17-year-old. It’s also not that great. But hey, I hope it gave you an idea or two! Happy writing!

You should really think about turning this into a novel! You’ve got quite the imagination.

The last laugh Kate Bester

“What? Oh heavens no! When?” Faye dragged the pink sweatband back from her forehead and shook her shoulder length blonde hair off her neck. She had just returned from the gym when the house phone rang.

“…sometime last night, peacefully. She had to go sometime, Faye.” Debbie’s longsuffering voice was irritating.

Faye sighed and shifted the weight from one shapely leg to the other. She crossed one ankle over the other and stared at her Reebok trainers. She bit her tongue before she could blurt out what came into her mind – why now? She had a very special and important occasion coming up and serious shopping to do!

“Mom was nearly eighty, you know Faye, but death is always unexpected, I know,” Debbie went on. Was she imagining it or was there a touch of accusation in Debbie’s voice? Deborah, her older sister, had never married. Instead, she stayed with Mom after Dad passed on ten years ago and took charge of the rambling old house in George. Come to think of it, when Debbie gave up nursing, moving in with Mom was the natural thing to do.

Faye had to muster all the self-control that she could to sound genuine and concerned. It was Mother after all…

“When is the funeral, then? Do you want me to come and help you with the arrangements?” she kept her voice low and even in case Debbie thought she was serious about the offer to help.

“No thanks, Faye, everything is fine. Mom had everything in place as usual. It will be a cremation of course…”

Debbie’s voice trailed off and Faye could just about suppress the groan that escaped from her chest before she said goodbye to her sister. She sank down in the closest, huge, overstuffed chair after she had put down the receiver. Of course. That is Mother. Well, was she corrected herself. Nothing ordinary or conventional. A cremation no less, so that all her old hippie friends could attend in their colourful rags and long hair and chant and blow their flutes and shake their tambourines. Faye had to admit to herself that a cremation at least would be better than embalmment. Her mother was quite capable of having them roll her in the scales of the boophone bulb like the Khoisan did with their dead.

Faye groaned again. She must be in shock otherwise why wasn’t she crying. Crying? No, she’d done enough crying after the second divorce in eight years. The last one was particularly messy but this time she stuck to her guns and got the house and a stiff alimony. Not that it’s about the money, which is never enough anyway, but one has to keep up appearances. She had spent a fortune on refurbishing the gazebo next to the pool. Oh gosh yes, and she must still pay for the embroidered voile curtains around the patio. And for the plant containers and cane furniture from Bali…

Faye sighed as she levered her challenged limbs from the chair. She will have a warm shower and then make her calls. Damn! Now she will have to drive all the way to George. She smiled. Yes, she will have to. Because of Mother’s pendant. She had to have it. Must be worth a small fortune by now…

That pendant was given to her mother by a very grateful Indian businessman. Mother had met him on a plane to Mumbai all those years ago when she travelled to India to see for herself what mysteries lay behind the lotus curtain. She ended up in his luxurious home and taught the whole family to speak English while she enjoyed every facet of that exquisite culture. If memory doesn’t fail her, the pendant has a top quality eleven carat flawless ruby, enhanced by… a shiver of delight passed through Faye’s body despite the warm gush of water.

At the garage to fill up and prepare the vehicle for the trip, she remembered how bored she was on weekends as a child. They travelled endless dusty roads, slept in tents, either sweating or freezing. Her botanist parents would be off in the veld , ooohing or aaahing, clicking their tongues and cameras. Deborah would be whooping somewhere in a shallow river. In her tent, her feet against the anchor pole, Faye swore she would never live this way. She would have money and everything it could buy. These bunny-hugging weirdo’s – her family – may enjoy the outdoors but she despised the smell of citronella candles, morning coffee and tinned food. Not to mention the squatting behind a bush when nature called. Ugh!

At nine o’clock the next morning, Faye was over the Overberg Pass and heading for Caledon. She would stop for tea at the Blue Crane and buy some of her mother’s favourite dried herbs. Yes, some buchu and lavender and rosemary. She’ll keep them on her lap during the cremation service and speeches to soothe her mind. Afterwards she will let them join her mother’s body to nirvana…

It was exactly twenty past one when she saw the huge pine trees and the red brick house behind it. The garden was a botanist’s dream. Like her mother exactly – colourful, mysterious, exciting and completely unusual. Faye’s eyes followed the garden path up to the porch. Handfuls of laurel tied with raffia or beads or leather thongs garnished the pathway from the gate to the porch and around the open door’s frame where fairy lights twinkled.

She opened the car door and slid off the seat. The manicured feet in the Blahnik sandals stepped together neatly on the tarmac as she automatically pressed the remote lock. Gingerly she approached the garden path and as daintily as possible made her way to the house.

Then it hit her. This wasn’t a welcome for her. The laurel symbolized Apollo’s way to remember his Daphne! Daphne didn’t want to marry Apollo and begged her father, Perenaeus, to hide her. He promptly turned her into a laurel tree. From then on Apollo worshipped the tree, hugged it, spoke to it and let all heroes and kings wear a laurel wreath on the head as adornment. This was for Mother.

Suddenly, there was her sister. Oh heavens, clad in a flowing caftan, pearls, beads, feathers and leather thong sandals, she could’ve been Mother!

Quickly Faye went over and folded her sister in her arms. While her sister was yoga-breathing against her shoulder, she took in the room behind. She smiled to herself . Ostrich feather boas were draped over the window frames, door frames and thrown over the backs of chairs. Huge black and white photographs of ostriches in all poses adorned the walls. Ostrich eggs and paraphernalia were displayed everywhere. This was a shrine to the ostrich as Nieuw-Bethesda was to the owl…

She let go of Debbie and cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, “Debs, what are we going to do with all this stuff ?” she hoped her chicanery would go undetected. Back in her mind there was an image of Mother’s ostrich leather handbags, shoes and purses she had collected before it became export posh. Her heart went on a gallop from excitement and anticipation.

At last they were alone. They cleared away the last few cups and plates. In the kitchen, Faye poured two large tumblers of Merlot for her and her sister.

“Sis, if you’re up to it, we can go through Mom’s things and decide what to do about some of it.”

“Of course, my dear.” Faye gulped.

Then the pendant was in the palm of her hand. This was a testing moment. She wanted to hang it around her neck immediately but thought it would seem callous. She let the heavy gold chain slide sensuously through her fingers while the ruby’s red eye winked at her.

“You have it, Faye, it’s too ostentatious for me. Mom also never wore it for that reason.”

“And these, Sis.” Debbie was on all fours in front of a deep drawer. She was pulling out ostrich leather gloves in every colour, handbags, clutch bags, more boas. They lay on the Kelim carpet like offerings to a queen. Faye stared and stared. “Oh yes!” her mind sang.

After breakfast the next day, Faye took her leave of Debbie who promised to visit as soon as everything was tied up and settled. When she was passing Mossel Bay, she started to relax and fingered the pendant at her throat. A warm glow filled her and she stretched to see it again in the rear mirror. It was an exquisite piece! She still felt surprised at how nonchalant Debbie was.

She decided to stop for refreshments outside Swellendam. She enjoyed stretching her legs in the shade of the old trees and watching the goats, chickens and ostriches they kept there for entertainment. She parked in the shade of a huge oak tree and went to the restaurant. She carried her fruit juice over to the enclosure on the lawn. A billy goat came towards her. Behind him a young ostrich craned its neck. A sheep, two lambs and a kid trotted up. Faye leaned forward.

She shrieked, jumped back and feverishly fumbling at her throat, she saw it

Ostriches also like jewellery.

I have not written a very long piece. It a quite short story. So…here it is…

Sydney woke up with a start, as beads of sweat adorned her furrowed brows. Next to her was her twin sister, Tanya, sleeping peaceful as Sydney had been a couple of moments before. She looked around as if searching for something or someone. Sydney almost dismissed the episode and went back to sleep when she heard it again, this time, even evident. The sound that had woken her up from her slumber. The sound that made her shiver and was even vexing than the sound of nails on chalkboard.

And then, it stopped. She looked around her for the source of what she heard. She decided to get some fresh air and walked out of the room she shared with her twin.

As she walked to the porch, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong but she knew something was. She leaned in to get a closer look at her reflection when something hit her head and she fainted. When she regained her consciousness, she looked around her. She was in the porch and it was dawn. She went back into her house when she glanced at the mirror again. She could see her mother, her sister and her father. They all looked around as if searching for someone. What she couldn’t understand was why she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror. Then, realization struck her like a ton of bricks. She was in the other side. Of the mirror.

Then the ending credits rolled in. Though it was just a trailer, it was well shot. Everyone couldn’t wait to see the full movie. We congratulated our friend, Mills, who had shot the film and went to hang out at her place.

Wonderful ideas. Thanks for inspiration.

*I’ve been wanting to write for a long time but never really got the push until right now. Sorry if it’s bad, it’s my first short and I’m 14* “One, two, three. Perfect, now I can go…” I quietly say to myself. I have something called Pure-O. Some people think that it’s worse than “normal OCD”. The others think that it’s completely unreal and it’s made up. What people don’t know about me is that I have Pure-O and it’s completely real and my life revolves around it. I make sure that people don’t find out about it because I am considered “ popular and high-status” where I live. “ Happy, good thoughts. Nothing bad.” I think to myself. “They won’t find out….hopefully. I am Claire Williams who has the best makeup and the straightest hair. Not the Crazy Williams girl that broke down in front of everyone because her presentation wasn’t how she planned it.” I think. Then the flashbacks swoop in and fill my brain. “Hi my name is Claire Williams and I am doing my presentation on the Economic Downfall of 2008…” I pause and look around. I see people snicker and talking. The teacher is just looking at me and gesturing for me to continue. I get scared and forget everything that I worked so hard to memorize. “Umm. I’m sorry ma’am, I can’t finish.” I tell my Economics teacher. When I try to move and collect everything, I can’t move. “No no no no no this can’t be happening. I can’t be having a panic attack at school.” I think to myself. I feel tears well up into my eyes. They slowly fall down my face and I taste the warm salty fluid. I suddenly tense up and can’t breath. Because no one knows about my condition, no one can help me. “Look! Williams is going crazy! Crazy Williams.” I hear people snicker from the back and the attack gets worse. I hear something new in my flashback…. It sounds almost as a ringing. I realize the bell is ringing for the students to get to class. I come back to reality and hope for the best on my first day of Senior year. I mean after all, it’s just school. Nothing bad could happen right?

PEN-082a 694w Anne Frank, Bella and Me by Helen Kudatsky

At nine, I bought my mom, Bella, a birthday gift on June 12th, a magenta lipstick for 19c. I was so proud. First present I ever purchased. She made me return it; It was too extravagant, and besides, she said, “every day is my birthday.” I cried. I knew her secret though. although a proper Jewish woman, sometimes she longed to be a gypsy.

Now, 60 years later, I’m reading “The Diary of a Young Girl” by Anne Frank, here in the home where I live. Though nursed, I’m often blue that I can’t dance or paint anymore. But I love to read and write, and my friend, Julie, the librarian, kindly brought me Anne’s book, which I am now devouring.

Anne was an eloquent writer, describing her schoolmates and boyfriends. She began the diary at 13, disclosing her first period, having a special secret and becoming a woman. I too began to menstruate at 13, pondering the mystery. It’s horrid to imagine eight people in 1944, crammed into the Secret Annexe, handling eating, sleeping, hygiene and trying to stay alive, while whispering and tiptoeing to avoid discovery by the Gestapo.

To maintain normalcy, the adults set up a plan. The children continued their studies: Dutch, French, English, history, geography and art. Although Anne liked most subjects, she found algebra notably loathsome. I’m in that club too.

Her people have become my friends and family: Anne Frank herself, Edith, her Mummy, Otto, her beloved father, Margot, her sister, and the others hiding with them: the VanDaans, their son, Peter who was first, her friend, then later, her crush and confidant, Dr. Albert Dussel, the dentist and Moortjie, the cat. Four of Otto’s devoted employees provided food, supplies and world news, which kept them alive and boosted their morale.

After the war, Miep, a helper, found Anne’s diary in the demolished remains and rubble of the annexe. She gave it to Otto, the sole survivor of the group. He was stunned by Anne’s maturity and the breadth of her feelings. The Diary has been published in 67 languages, portrayed on stage and screen, and is considered one of the most moving accounts of the Holocaust.

For those of us beholding atrocity, Anne Frank is a beacon: humorous, inquisitive, forgiving, cheerful. Sometimes moody, though, she was nicknamed “the incurable chatterbox.” as she’d quarrel with others in the Secret Annexe they occupied for their 25 months in hiding.

My mom, Bella, shared a birthday with Anne Frank, June 12th, but didn’t know of it until years after Anne’s death. Bella lived to be 95. She loved reading as much as Anne did, and she wrote poetry and stories, but didn‘t start until middle-age. Anne, 15, died in March 1945, just two weeks before the war’s end, when she would have been liberated. In two years of hiding, Anne was devoted to writing in the diary, at times prosaic, sometimes distraught, frequently terrifying, but often funny, spiritual and uplifting.

If the war had only ended sooner, I imagine the writing that Anne could have produced and I envision Bella meeting her. Bella, born in 1913, Anne in 1929, 16 years her junior, they could have been aunt and niece; I see them sharing a Shabbat dinner, singing a Hanukah song; I picture them speaking one of their languages. They believed in the same things. Finally, I dream of them proudly sharing their writings, a mystery, a story of love and longing, a poem, and of course, on June 12th, their mutual birthday.

I dream of them walking hand in hand, pale wrinkled fingers holding a smooth teenaged palm. They come to a table set before them, on it matzoh brei with applesauce, a plate of potato latkes with sour cream. There are apples and honey, wine and rugalech. Bella and Anne eat heartily and shout for joy, no longer whispering or tiptoeing, no longer afraid to be Jewish women writers, no longer afraid at all.

PEN-082a-Anne Frank, Bella and Me.wps by Helen Kudatsky w:09/03/17 ei 09/19/17 694 wds 08 mn 99 Park St.#104 Brookline,MA 02446 C-617-939-3387 e-m: [email protected]

My story plot is of the fantasy/adventure type.

In the fictional town of Surron, Colorado (which is surrounded by high mountainsides from every angle, a tragedy occurs on September 5, 1963. Six-year old Robert “Bert” Aruson witnesses his drunken, abusive father murder his mother with a broken beer bottle. Advancing on him, the father sleeps on another discarded bottle and trips, impaling himself on the bottle with which he killed his wife. Robert runs off into the forest to escape his father to look of help, unaware of his father’s death. With his parents living far back into the woods, he ends becoming lost and spending the night in the forest. A mother bear, Dewa, with two cubs of her own, the boy Gemape and girl Biha, discover the young boy and adopt him into their family, christening him with the new name Nuun. Ten years later in 1973, Nuun has led a happy existence with his loving and supportive new family, having even made new friends like the crow Hai and the mouse Naeene. He even prevented unnecessary violence between his family and a wolf pack led by Dande and Gupa. Any hunters that come into the forest have their weapons stolen and permanently disposed of in the night by Nuun. By this time, Nuun and his actions have become something of an urban legend in Surron. Back in that town, the mayor Aaron Burdon (who resides upon a hill overlooking the town) runs the town, though he views it with contempt due to one incident. His younger brother, Reagan, was beaten by thugs hoping to steal money off of his rich person, leaving him with brain damage. Despite this, the townspeople started treating him and his brother differently afterwards, cruelly even. This has caused his hatred to ferment over the years until he comes up with a plan to destroy the town’s population with explosives at the upcoming July 4 picnic. His wealth and power make the workers unable to resist him, as they will become jobless should he imprisoned. “Nuun” comes across one of Burdon’s worksites and almost steals workers lunchbox, but is chased away. News soon spreads through the town and Nuun finds his happy life in danger of being shattered once again unless he can have assistance from friends both human and animal.

I always thought of running away. I felt like I was in that orphanage forever. I remember growing up in there since I was a child and now that I’m 17 years old, I’m still here, hoping to find my family. But that, I thought was too unrealistic. I was sitting in an orphanage, hoping to find my family. No, I wanted to DO something to find my family. The only thing that held me back was Ms.Keeper and the thought that I really had no family. Ms.Keeper was always afraid of one of the girls running away, that’s why she made some workers put a stronger fence around the orphanage property. Ms.Keeper was also afraid of talking to the government. I thought so because the government will shut down her orphanage. One time, I overheard Ms.Keeper talking on the phone to the government and they said that it was illegal to not show the orphans their identity and who they are, but Ms.Keeper ignored them and kept talking about something else. Also, at 18 years old, you are free to leave the orphanage and become independent. I just turned 17. No one else was my age except another girl, aged 14 and all the rest were smaller than her. There was once a girl named Gabby who was the only person who was older than me. Just last year, she turned 18 and was supposed to go. On her birthday, Ms.Keeper made an announcement at the last moment that Gabby was leaving right now and is right by the door. Every girl ran out to give her hugs and goodbyes. Ms.Keeper didn’t even move. She didn’t even say bye. It was so cruel of her. We didn’t have a birthday cake with Gabby because Ms.Keeper threw her out the door on her birthday!

Everyday, Ms.Keeper lets us go outside for one hour, three times a day. We ate mostly sandwiches and drank water and sometimes juice. We also had some snacks, which were mostly fruits. We did school during the day too but this wasn’t real school. Ms.Keeper taught us everything. Ms.Keeper also bought us a TV, which was in the dining room. We mostly had everything we needed, except a family.

One day, when Ms.Keeper let us go outside, I was lying on the grass by myself at the farthest point from the orphanage. Then all of a sudden I heard someone coming. I looked up but saw no one. When I turned around, I saw a boy, looked like he was 15. He had brown hair, blue eyes and was tall. He said “hi” to me and I said “hi” back. We talked to each other for awhile until Ms.Keeper called us in. I really hoped that Ms.Keeper didn’t see me talk to that boy because she would punish me.

For the next three days, I talked to that boy over the fence every recess. He told me about his life and it really surprised me. He said he had a house as big as the whole orphanage (the orphanage is as big as a hotel). He said he had his mom and dad living with him, that he has money, any kind of drink, and lots of junk food. He played video games everyday and watched TV and also he quit school. His mom and dad don’t care about what he does as long as he’s home by midnight! When he told me this, I started thinking, is every life out there like his? What is everyone’s else’s life like? I couldn’t sleep that night or any other night after that day.

Soon, we became friends and he asked if the orphanage was boring. I didn’t even know what to say because it was alright living in the orphanage but compared to his life, it was nothing. I didn’t say anything and he asked if I wanted to run away to his house. I, of course, was surprised and didn’t say anything for awhile but then I said I would think about it. Ms.Keeper called us inside, and I don’t know why but she never caught me talking to him. Ms.Keeper usually stands by the door of the orphanage, looking into the field of how we are playing. I was farthest away from her so maybe she doesn’t see so well.

After those days, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking of running away. But how was I supposed to run away? If I got caught, I would be punished and I would have to be a slave to everyone, washing dishes, sweeping, and cleaning. Besides, I couldn’t run away because we all slept in rooms with four people to each room. Our room was the farthest away from the exit. I would have to tip-toe (at night?!?) through the whole orphanage just to get to the exit. No, I couldn’t do it. I was too scared. But that boy kept assuring me that everything will be okay.

I talked it over with the boy and I decided to run away with him at night, at 11pm because he had to be home by 12pm. By 8pm, all the girls in the orphanage would be sleeping, but Ms.Keeper stays up till 10pm, listening to classical music in her favourite rocking chair. As not to wake Ms.Keeper, the boy suggested that he would come to my window at night and I would climb over. Our room was on the lowest level – level one- so it was the closest to the ground. It was supposed to happen in two days from then. I was very nervous and scared, and I kept looking at Ms.Keeper if she had any suspicions, but it didn’t look like it.

It was the day of the run. I packed all my stuff, which wasn’t really much. I put all my clothes in my pockets (it fit perfectly). I was wide awake that night, listening till Ms.Keeper turned off her classical music and went to bed. It was perfectly silent. You could hear every single breath of the girls. My tummy had a trillion butterflies in it and I couldn’t stop my heavy breathing. At 11pm, there was a quiet knock at my window and I knocked back. That was our signal for letting each other know we were ready. I then looked at everyone in the room. They were sound asleep. I opened the window and it’s super squeaky. I waited a moment to see if anyone woke up, but no one moved. I climbed over the window to the boy. I closed the window with a loud squeak and started running with the boy to wherever my feet let me go. It was a dark night and only the half-lit moon was our source of light. The boy led me through streets and streets of houses until we came to a huge house. It was so pretty. It looked like the orphanage but it had no spiderwebs. It was clean and super nice. It looked like they were rich to have all those diamond stuff on the door.

They boy opened the door and the light hurt my eyes. It was so bright in there, so big. The stairs were curved, like I only saw in fairy tales, and there was his mom standing in the doorway. She first smiled, but when she saw me, she made a confused face and came closer. I was so scared. What would his mom do? Did he tell his mom about me? My brain threw me a thousand questions to answer of which I didn’t know the answers for. The lady came closer and asked the boy slowly who I was. He told his mom that I was a friend from the orphanage. His mom got angry, her face started to turn red and she started to talk louder. She started saying that I’m filthy and that she doesn’t want to see me ever again and to get out off this house. I looked at the boy. He started to cry. I tear went down his cheek. He begged his mom to let her stay for the night but his mom didn’t budge. The boy’s mom shut the door on me and I was outside in the cold.

All of this was for nothing. This meet we had. All the recesses we talked, all the nights I didn’t sleep, and I couldn’t go back to the orphanage now. I was alone. I didn’t even know where to go. I got off the boys lawn and I sat down on the sidewalk, crying and I realized I didn’t even know what the boy’s name was! Suddenly, I heard a door open. I looked back to see if it was the boy’s mom. No, it wasn’t. I looked around and saw that the boy’s neighbor has opened the door and was calling me. The person at the door was a grandma. She told me to come in. I stood up and came inside. She told me that she heard the neighbors talking loudly so she went to see what the commotion was about. She asked me if I wanted to eat but I refused. She sent me to bed, not knowing anything about me. She was so kind to me. She sent me upstairs where I had my own room. I fell asleep very fast, and I slept till lunch the next day. I forgot all about the orphanage and went downstairs to meet my hero. She was making breakfast for me. We sat down at the table and she told me her name ( Grandma Laura ) and I told her all about my life. Every single thing. When I came to the part about the orphanage, her eyes widened.

Grandma Laura told me that many many years ago, she was the owner of the orphanage! The government fired her because they thought she wasn’t suitable for the job. When she went away, she made photocopies of the documents of the girls and kept them because the girls were so precious to her that she couldn’t just leave them. Grandma Laura stood up and went upstairs to go get them. When she came back down, she had a whole ton of documents! She found one by the name of Nikita.

That morning changed my life. She let me read my own document. It figures out that my real mom died while having me. My dad was still alive. My dad’s name was Walter Eggons. The grandma’s eyes widened when I told her the name of my dad. She told me that that was her husband! So Grandma Laura was my mom? She didn’t die? But Grandma told me the whole story. My dad, Walter, first married a lady named Agnes, and they had a baby named Nikita ( that was me) and during childbirth, Agnes died, but I lived. Later, my dad could no longer care after me so he dropped me off at the orphanage when I was 1 year’s old. For my dad, that was a hard decision. He had to work but he couldn’t leave me at home and there was no one to look after me. After my dad’s wife died, he married Laura. Laura was sitting in front of me, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She then told me the saddest news- my dad died of cancer a couple months ago. I started choking back sobs, and then tears. Grandma Laura was the only family I had. She was my stepmother.

It has been seven years since that happened and right now I am sitting with tears in my eyes, telling you this. I live with my stepmom and my husband, Jeffrey. Turns out that after that day, I lived with my stepmom for a couple months but then the boy’s mom found out that I was still in this neighborhood. The boy was so happy to hear that, and he told me his name- Jeffrey Jones. We soon joined our friendship together and a couple months later, we were married. Also,he wasn’t 15 years old, like I thought, he was 17.

-Written by Nikita Eggons-Jones

I hope you like this so far tell me what to improve on.

Gunnvor is the daugter of a powerful samurai but that is only thing that they have in common. Her father is a ruthless man who fights for war, on the other hand Gunnvor fights for humanity, no one can see her true colors because they want to believe she wants bloodshed as well like her father. She hates their thoughts, imprisoned in her fathers hand, the only way to escape, is for some one, like her, to save her in the outside.

As she swoon her sword with grace she sliced the broom like heads off. Her father and mother were observing her progress as a warrior, when she was do she went to her parents and bowed. She left leaving them behind a cold chill settled on them, the mother knew why the father ignored. Gunnvor loved to walk in the town down below her house, all the people were Good-hearted and kind in every way. She sometimes is jealous of the children for having such free lives. But she does not listen to her selfish conscience, she walked across the flower bridge as a gentle men suddenly bumped into her. “Oh sorry about that I didn’t see you,” Gunnvor quickly got up embarrassed for fall. She looked up and saw man that was strong but kind, she then noticed that he didn’t recognized him, he look like he was from another country. She then suddenly pulled her sword pointed it near his neck. the man was taken aback, he looked shocked and then said ” Yes did I say some thing offensive.”

“your not from here are you,” She moved a little closer, her sword started to dig into skin. “Yea I’m just traveling, I came from the neighboring kingdom, I thought they were in good terms…..right?” He backed away a little from the sword cutting his neck. Gunnvor then lowered her sword slowly, The man rubbed his neck just to find that it is bleeding “by the way what is your name,” she sheathed her sword in it’s case. “My name is gunnvor,” He quickly whipped his head to her “What the, Gunnvor, the daugter of the samurai.”

“Yes.” she turned and started to walk away and stop slightly turned her head ” And you,”

“Uh my name is Cota.” he said then Gunnvor walked away, when she arrived at home she swept past her father to her bed room. That night she could not stop thinking of Cota, she thought how strange he was dressed and the way he looked. The next how ever her father again trained gunnvor, the train this time was diffrent, he was pushing her to far.

Many days have past and Gunnvor noticed that Cota was spotted many times near her house. Then when she training with her father which was basically torture, Cota came up to her father ” You will stop hurting her,” He said slowly and manically. However he was not moved “My wife has convinced you to protect her,”

“No I came In my own accord.” The father then spun and grabbed his sword and pointed to cota. “Well then can fight me,”

“We”l see,” cota grabbed his sword and the two fought, they fought for a few hours and the father was vanquished. Cota then went to Gunnvor and asked her hand in marriage.

Nikita This is the story of me, Nikita, an orphaned girl, who didn’t know anything about her family. I was kept in the orphanage with a bunch of other girls. Ms.Keeper, the owner of the orphanage doesn’t tell anyone anything about themselves or their family. I didn’t know anything about myself, but everyone knew that in Ms.Keepers room there was a filing cabinet with documents of the real stories of our lives. Nobody ever dared to go in there though. Ms.Keeper looked like she was somewhere in the 30’s, she had grey hair, bags under her brown eyes, a slim body and a huge pimple on her long nose. She was not married. I have brown hair, brown eyes, freckles and a healthy, slim body. I always thought of running away. I felt like I was in that orphanage forever. I remember growing up in there since I was a child and now that I’m 17 years old, I’m still here, hoping to find my family. But that, I thought was too unrealistic. I was sitting in an orphanage, hoping to find my family. No, I wanted to DO something to find my family. The only thing that held me back was Ms.Keeper and the thought that I really had no family. Ms.Keeper was always afraid of one of the girls running away, that’s why she made some workers put a stronger fence around the orphanage property. Ms.Keeper was also afraid of talking to the government. I thought so because the government will shut down her orphanage. One time, I overheard Ms.Keeper talking on the phone to the government and they said that it was illegal to not show the orphans their identity and who they are, but Ms.Keeper ignored them and kept talking about something else. Also, at 18 years old, you are free to leave the orphanage and become independent. I just turned 17. No one else was my age except another girl, aged 14 and all the rest were smaller than her. There was once a girl named Gabby who was the only person who was older than me. Just last year, she turned 18 and was supposed to go. On her birthday, Ms.Keeper made an announcement at the last moment that Gabby was leaving right now and is right by the door. Every girl ran out to give her hugs and goodbyes. Ms.Keeper didn’t even move. She didn’t even say bye. It was so cruel of her. We didn’t have a birthday cake with Gabby because Ms.Keeper threw her out the door on her birthday! Everyday, Ms.Keeper lets us go outside for one hour, three times a day. We ate mostly sandwiches and drank water and sometimes juice. We also had some snacks, which were mostly fruits. We did school during the day too but this wasn’t real school. Ms.Keeper taught us everything. Ms.Keeper also bought us a TV, which was in the dining room. We mostly had everything we needed, except a family. One day, when Ms.Keeper let us go outside, I was lying on the grass by myself at the farthest point from the orphanage. Then all of a sudden I heard someone coming. I looked up but saw no one. When I turned around, I saw a boy, looked like he was 15. He had brown hair, blue eyes and was tall. He said “hi” to me and I said “hi” back. We talked to each other for awhile until Ms.Keeper called us in. I really hoped that Ms.Keeper didn’t see me talk to that boy because she would punish me. For the next three days, I talked to that boy over the fence every recess. He told me about his life and it really surprised me. He said he had a house as big as the whole orphanage (the orphanage is as big as a hotel). He said he had his mom and dad living with him, that he has money, any kind of drink, and lots of junk food. He played video games everyday and watched TV and also he quit school. His mom and dad don’t care about what he does as long as he’s home by midnight! When he told me this, I started thinking, is every life out there like his? What is everyone’s else’s life like? I couldn’t sleep that night or any other night after that day. Soon, we became friends and he asked if the orphanage was boring. I didn’t even know what to say because it was alright living in the orphanage but compared to his life, it was nothing. I didn’t say anything and he asked if I wanted to run away to his house. I, of course, was surprised and didn’t say anything for awhile but then I said I would think about it. Ms.Keeper called us inside, and I don’t know why but she never caught me talking to him. Ms.Keeper usually stands by the door of the orphanage, looking into the field of how we are playing. I was farthest away from her so maybe she doesn’t see so well. After those days, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking of running away. But how was I supposed to run away? If I got caught, I would be punished and I would have to be a slave to everyone, washing dishes, sweeping, and cleaning. Besides, I couldn’t run away because we all slept in rooms with four people to each room. Our room was the farthest away from the exit. I would have to tip-toe (at night?!?) through the whole orphanage just to get to the exit. No, I couldn’t do it. I was too scared. But that boy kept assuring me that everything will be okay. I talked it over with the boy and I decided to run away with him at night, at 11pm because he had to be home by 12pm. By 8pm, all the girls in the orphanage would be sleeping, but Ms.Keeper stays up till 10pm, listening to classical music in her favourite rocking chair. As not to wake Ms.Keeper, the boy suggested that he would come to my window at night and I would climb over. Our room was on the lowest level – level one- so it was the closest to the ground. It was supposed to happen in two days from then. I was very nervous and scared, and I kept looking at Ms.Keeper if she had any suspicions, but it didn’t look like it. It was the day of the run. I packed all my stuff, which wasn’t really much. I put all my clothes in my pockets (it fit perfectly). I was wide awake that night, listening till Ms.Keeper turned off her classical music and went to bed. It was perfectly silent. You could hear every single breath of the girls. My tummy had a trillion butterflies in it and I couldn’t stop my heavy breathing. At 11pm, there was a quiet knock at my window and I knocked back. That was our signal for letting each other know we were ready. I then looked at everyone in the room. They were sound asleep. I opened the window and it’s super squeaky. I waited a moment to see if anyone woke up, but no one moved. I climbed over the window to the boy. I closed the window with a loud squeak and started running with the boy to wherever my feet let me go. It was a dark night and only the half-lit moon was our source of light. The boy led me through streets and streets of houses until we came to a huge house. It was so pretty. It looked like the orphanage but it had no spiderwebs. It was clean and super nice. It looked like they were rich to have all those diamond stuff on the door. They boy opened the door and the light hurt my eyes. It was so bright in there, so big. The stairs were curved, like I only saw in fairy tales, and there was his mom standing in the doorway. She first smiled, but when she saw me, she made a confused face and came closer. I was so scared. What would his mom do? Did he tell his mom about me? My brain threw me a thousand questions to answer of which I didn’t know the answers for. The lady came closer and asked the boy slowly who I was. He told his mom that I was a friend from the orphanage. His mom got angry, her face started to turn red and she started to talk louder. She started saying that I’m filthy and that she doesn’t want to see me ever again and to get out off this house. I looked at the boy. He started to cry. I tear went down his cheek. He begged his mom to let her stay for the night but his mom didn’t budge. The boy’s mom shut the door on me and I was outside in the cold. All of this was for nothing. This meet we had. All the recesses we talked, all the nights I didn’t sleep, and I couldn’t go back to the orphanage now. I was alone. I didn’t even know where to go. I got off the boys lawn and I sat down on the sidewalk, crying and I realized I didn’t even know what the boy’s name was! Suddenly, I heard a door open. I looked back to see if it was the boy’s mom. No, it wasn’t. I looked around and saw that the boy’s neighbor has opened the door and was calling me. The person at the door was a grandma. She told me to come in. I stood up and came inside. She told me that she heard the neighbors talking loudly so she went to see what the commotion was about. She asked me if I wanted to eat but I refused. She sent me to bed, not knowing anything about me. She was so kind to me. She sent me upstairs where I had my own room. I fell asleep very fast, and I slept till lunch the next day. I forgot all about the orphanage and went downstairs to meet my hero. She was making breakfast for me. We sat down at the table and she told me her name ( Grandma Laura ) and I told her all about my life. Every single thing. When I came to the part about the orphanage, her eyes widened. Grandma Laura told me that many many years ago, she was the owner of the orphanage! The government fired her because they thought she wasn’t suitable for the job. When she went away, she made photocopies of the documents of the girls and kept them because the girls were so precious to her that she couldn’t just leave them. Grandma Laura stood up and went upstairs to go get them. When she came back down, she had a whole ton of documents! She found one by the name of Nikita. That morning changed my life. She let me read my own document. It figures out that my real mom died while having me. My dad was still alive. My dad’s name was Walter Eggons. The grandma’s eyes widened when I told her the name of my dad. She told me that that was her husband! So Grandma Laura was my mom? She didn’t die? But Grandma told me the whole story. My dad, Walter, first married a lady named Agnes, and they had a baby named Nikita ( that was me) and during childbirth, Agnes died, but I lived. Later, my dad could no longer care after me so he dropped me off at the orphanage when I was 1 year’s old. For my dad, that was a hard decision. He had to work but he couldn’t leave me at home and there was no one to look after me. After my dad’s wife died, he married Laura. Laura was sitting in front of me, tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She then told me the saddest news- my dad died of cancer a couple months ago. I started choking back sobs, and then tears. Grandma Laura was the only family I had. She was my stepmother. It has been seven years since that happened and right now I am sitting with tears in my eyes, telling you this. I live with my stepmom and my husband, Jeffrey. Turns out that after that day, I lived with my stepmom for a couple months but then the boy’s mom found out that I was still in this neighborhood. The boy was so happy to hear that, and he told me his name- Jeffrey Jones. We soon joined our friendship together and a couple months later, we were married. Also,he wasn’t 15 years old, like I thought, he was 17. -Written by Nikita Eggons-Jones

Yoyoyo its generikb here and today we are playing roller coaster tycoon

Anyone got ideas for a short story titled as Leornard’s Fatal Oversight. In need of help asap.

Ugh, this is getting do frustrating! I thought to myself as I struggled through the streets. My ankles kept twisting every time I slipped. Heels are so not comfy. I shouldn’t have worn them. As if my struggle wasn’t enough, people were pushing me as they passed me by. I was being shoved left and right amidst the bustling sidewalks of New York. Feeling fed up, I decided to lean onto a nearby store to regain my balance. What an awful idea it was. Unfortunately, I have miscalculated the distance between me and the store and I ended up leaning on thin air. I tried to right my footing before it was too late but I ended up tripping on my own feet. With a loud oomph I slammed into a passerby. Papers went flying around us as we both fell to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry.” I tried to hurriedly stand up but I ended flat on the ground again. “I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to lean on the wall to regain my balance since it’s the first time to wear heels, and oh my god, it is very hard and painful.”

The person nodded quietly and started gathering the papers. I got to my knees and tried to help. “I was supposed to be looking smart for today’s meeting, but I don’t think it’s been working out so well. I bet I look as smart as a baboon’s butt.” I heard the person chuckle but I went on with my rant, “I also bet that I am a total mess; I don’t how will I meet everyone at work this way. Oh man! They sure will give me an earful of criticism!” I didn’t realize I had been holding on to the few papers I collected while he tried to pull them from my grasp. “Oh, I am so sorry, once again,” I said still holding on to the papers while I got up, “I didn’t realize I was holding on to the documents…it’s not like I’ve read them; I’m just guessing they were documents as your suit looks neat and yeah.” I tugged gently on the lapel of the suit and finally raised my eyes to his face. My eyes probably widened as I saw him for the first time. To cut it short, he was hot! Like smoking salmon hot; or more like hot chili pepper that Indians eat hot! Now I’ll give all the details, I know you want them…I would want them if I was listening to one of my friends telling me such a story. Anyways, he stood a good foot or so taller than me. He had light brown hair styled backwards. His angular, defined jaw was covered with a five o’clock shadow. Bright hazel eyes shone with amusement as a slight smile covered his lips. “I don’t usually talk to strangers as much as I do. God! I’m coming off as talkative! I am not usually the talkative type; I seriously don’t know what is wrong with me today. And whoa, you look handsome,” my eyes widened in shock as he raised both eyebrows, “Did I say that out loud? Oh my god, I said that out loud. I didn’t mean to say that…I don’t mean you’re not handsome, because you’re one hell of a man; I just mean…Ugh! Now I’m coming off as a weird man-gazing half-crazed stalker. That is if I’m not fully crazed. I don’t think I’m making any sense…I should probably get going.” I went to turn around when I felt a tug onto something I’m holding to. With a confused look I looked to my hands and found the stack of papers. With a not so faint blush, I handed him the papers, “I’m sorry again.” I threw my hand behind my shoulder pointing in the opposite direction, “I should probably get going,” I said with a sheepish smile. I turned to leave again, but I was stopped…again. He cleared his throat, “I think you’re forgetting something.” “Um…no, I think I’m,” I turned his way to find him holding my bag. I awkwardly stepped to take it and said, “Thanks. I’ll see you around, not that I know where you are…I’ll just get going.” I took my bag and headed off in the opposite direction before I could embarrass myself any further. As I waited for the subway, I recalled what just happened and face palmed. I took the short ride to the office to compose myself. I was in for a surprise once I entered the meeting room, though. The man I bumped into was standing at the head of the table. “Good morning everyone, before starting today’s meeting, I would like to introduce you to the company’s new CEO…” Well, I wasn’t expecting this. I sat rigidly on the chair once we were told to. “Good morning everyone, I am Nathaniel and I am looking forwards to working with everyone on this team,” he said with a smile on his face. “Mr. Nathaniel, I would like you to meet our best employee, Ms. Felicity Brown.”My boss pointed my way and I wish he hadn’t. Nathaniel’s eyes found mine. They were filled with amusement. Oh this was going to be a long day.

And this, kids, is how I met your father.

A great (and family friendly) writing site is http://www.storybird.com

I might write a story about a girl who was born a princess but all her family died on a ship except her aunt and cousin…she gets taken to an orphanage and everyone else thinks she died too and she gets adopted a few Years later she goes to school and everyone is talking about her…one days she finds out that… oh u want to know well I’ll probs write a story about it on wattpad so u can look for it, it will be called…A princess???

Four new members have a look at couch on top of Crestwood center ship

high school graduation sports activitiestrail Softballand therefore Swimmingbeach ball Tennismales adolescent girls info Field HS HS WrestlingCollege Pro Submit ScoresSubmit

WRIGHT TWP. In all perhaps had to be the most significant reorganization matching presented among Luzerne regional 11 institutions zones, Crestwood school panel swore located in four sign ups compared to the ne member, repairing incumbents which are either of them missing in action unique reelection tenders belonging to the primary or elected to get not to research another phase.

wayne Brogna, Stacey Haddix, Kimberly Spath and thus Lauren McCurdy got been sworn appearing in thursday night. The four bought conducted completely considering that the to produce enhancement community. really earning incumbent from a big part that do survived habitual grievance in past times two very long time came anna Hollock Bibla, which will garnered your ex first four year terms the particular snowboard. you become a member of in 2017 because of profitable an exclusive two year sitting.

The aboard had been proven a good solid director in just cost Jones deleted the primary. He extended in the direction this quite get-together ahead departing the barrier. But contact considering his or place for year isn an exciting new face. really 5 4 election with all four rookies in opposition of, james Costello vice president in the past year came branded president.

following the meeting, Brogna documented can lone even talk to gain themselves even so that he fully Costello ran into finished loads of dubious ballots the actual game board during the last two growth cycles. he explained he’s talked containing Costello together n’ your own questions that can the pup, but admitted no sign ups may possibly well most try out the us president job, if he or she. so which he wasn safe voting for Costello.

barry Boone is unanimously specified as vice chairman, Maureen McGovern came chosen assistant, and after that Brogna been recently branded as treasurer.

all of the reconstituted block have their first finding for normal establishment votes arrange for Dec. 19, Five days right after the contract over curious law firms in order to post proposals on a structured feasibility study, sense my blackboard can have to be able to merit a legal contract.

Four newbies your day Crestwood their school panel accept the promise of health care office at some stage in thurs reorganization talking. right between lead are actually Stacy Haddix, Kimberly Spath, Lauren McCurdy and as a consequence randy Brogna. 17 public speaking.

while prompt wednesday authorities chairman paul Belusko should become aware of if will probably be at center arena this booked careers class a better or at site of the event thus more people beautiful vietnamese women may easily give priority to.

Belusko proclaimed she will be polling an additional four authorities musicians in email’s over the past weekend on recommendation mayor choose George light brown undertaken especially during tuesday night time seeing replace the to and time production for the.

looking to you can keep them respond back to me made by the following thursday, Belusko considered that Friday.

maybe authorities decides to transfer an appointment it provides a week in order to place and with seating rather than a unique fourth area chambers.

was regarded as thinking that it is recently doing open talking long before the performance visit someplace (home buyers and thus local authority or council) may questionthings just to associated with us transfer to the author’s your job session. which unfortunately whatever i thinking about, Belusko claims.

you will most likely plumbing service in sunday night-time show results demonstrations that when local authority or council could not vote on awaiting the law. comments together with inquires are allowed even though council monday date the general public get togethers. timetabled start.

village owner david Gazenski suggested it authorities call on which direction to start.

over council if that they move this approach to a different store, Gazenski alleged.

nearly as Belusko may reaching out to authorities, so too will white because of main receiving area for the mans professional recommendation.

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

10 Short Story Ideas - […] writers have too many short story ideas, not too few. However, therein lies the problem, because the more ideas…
Sunday Feature: May 15th, 2016 - Balle Millner - […] 100 Short Story Ideas […]
Glint in Your Eye – The "Write" Place - […] Prompt: A shy, young woman unexpectedly bumps into her soulmate (literally bumps into him). In film, this is called…
No Writing Is Wasted - […] part of your work in progress for fifteen minutes. If you don’t have a WIP, use one of our story…
Your Writing Is Never Wasted - […] part of your work in progress for fifteen minutes. If you don’t have a WIP, use one of our story…
No Writing Is Wasted – Smart Writing Tips - […] next part of your work in progress for fifteen minutes. If you don’t have a WIP, use one of our…
No Writing Is Wasted – Publishing Review - […] next part of your work in progress for fifteen minutes. If you don’t have a WIP, use one of our…
English 10R – Vocab Story | Mr. Novak - […] Using at least 10 words from the provided list, create a vocab story. If you need story starters, refer…
10 Short Story Ideas – Stacy's Blog - […] writers have too many short story ideas, not too few. However, therein lies the problem, because the more ideas…
First Story of my life | Story Of my Boring Life - […] Wait! Need a story idea? We’ve got you covered. Get our top 100 short story ideas here. […]
Photo Writing Prompt: Find Your Story in a Painting | Creative Writing - […] And of course, here’s your writing prompt: […]
Assignment #6 and Story #2 – SDCC FALL 2017 English 249A/B/36 - […] https://thewritepractice.com/short-story-ideas/ […]
7 Haunted Halloween Writing Prompts | Creative Writing - […] BOO! It’s Halloween—what better day to write some spooky stories? Sharpen your pencil and take a stab at one…
Writing Prompts: 7 Inspirational Ideas to Spark Your Creative Writing - […] the event doesn’t officially start until Monday, you may be wondering what to write about each day. Here are…
Writing Prompts: 7 Inspirational Ideas to Spark Your Creative Writing – thomashwales - […] the event doesn’t officially start until Monday, you may be wondering what to write about each day. Here are…
5 Ways to Express Your Creativity - DailyStar - […] are great websites to give you ideas for a certain writing/film project. Say you’re not good at writing, but…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
Stumped for Story Ideas? Try This One Tip - The Write Practice - […] they assure her that what she described is not a problem at all. She doesn’t need new story ideas.…
6 Creative Ways to Strengthen Your Story Idea - The Write Practice - […] up with a story idea isn’t hard. Coming up with a story idea that hits it out of the…
3 Writing Prompts to Tap Into Your Creative Well - The Write Practice - […] the hardest part about writing is coming up with the initial story idea. Once the spark of creativity is…
10 Short Story Ideas by Joe Bunting – The world of writing - […] writers have too many short story ideas, not too few. However, therein lies the problem, because the more ideas you…
The Lure of A New Story – Comma Grounds - […] But before you go, check out this list of Top 100 Short Story Ideas! […]
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – Books, Literature & Writing - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
10 Best Creative Writing Prompts - […] Try a few out, and if you’re ready to take the next step in your writing, check out our…
Writing Workshop: Can a Workshop Help You Become a Better Writer? - […] Structured time to plan your writing piece and brainstorm story ideas […]
How to Publish a Short Story: Find Your Publication and Idea - […] submit, it’s time to plan the story. If you’re stumped for writing ideas, check out our 100 Best Short…
Merry Goodman on Using Real-Life Experiences to Come Up With Story Ideas - […] always getting asked this question: “Where do you get your ideas?” I always give some rambling answer, but boiled…
20+ fun things to do when you’re stuck in the house - The Creative Writer - […] some of the prompts on this website, or write a story that you have been thinking about for a…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress - […] (or your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress | Top News - […] your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus... - Self-help - […] your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress - CNET - ApparelGeek - […] computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these prompts.…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress - CNET - TechyGeeksHome - […] (or your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress - Techy Beasts - […] your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress | NEAEA - […] your computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these…
8 relaxing activities to help you cope with coronavirus stress - CNET - scoreit.online - […] computer) and some ideas. If you want to get creative, write a short story based on one of these prompts.…
10 Best Creative Writing Prompts – jcgregsolutions - […] Try a few out, and if you’re ready to take the next step in your writing, check out our 100…
story ideas for teens – Language Skills Abroad - […] http://www.creative-writing-now.com/story-ideas.htmlhttp://thejohnfox.com/2016/06/creative-writing-prompts-young-adult-ya/http://www.journalbuddies.com/writing-grade-level/35-fiction-writing-prompts-for-teens/https://thewritepractice.com/short-story-ideas/http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-love/story-of-teenage-love/index.html […]
Ten Secrets To Write Better Stories – WELCOME TO LIBRARY OF K V NO. 2 INDORE - […] Wait! Need a story idea? We’ve got you covered. Get our top 100 short story ideas here. […]
Story Ideas - For Love of Stories - […] Top 100 Short Story Ideas […]
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – Charlotte’s Blog - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – Top News Rocket - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories - - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – The News Stories - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – My WordPress - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories | Danny Gesmundo - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story projects into full section assignments. It’s one part of the writing…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – Gadget Searcher - […] like hearing the various methods authors establish story concepts into complete length tasks. It’’ s one part of the…
How to Develop Story Ideas Into Amazing Stories – GaleForceNews.com - […] love hearing the different ways writers develop story ideas into full length projects. It’s one part of the writing…
Episode 17: Crowdsourcing Paris, Joe Bunting, and How to Grow - Character Test - […] I asked my audience to give me adventures to accomplish in Paris. I got hundreds of adventure ideas, all…
5 Easy Ways to Become a Good Writer | Zippy Writers - […] this, you begin with a short story or episode that relates to your topic. Readers love to read a…
The Different Ways Authors Research Their Books – JanetWhardy.com - […] wrote, “Schenectady.” They have my attention, but I do not have an idea. Many of the story ideas in…
Tips For Writing Books For Elementary Students – JanetWhardy.com - […] guide, you will be able to generate ideas. You do not need to be a genius in order to…
How To Write Historical Picture Books For Teens – JanetWhardy.com - […] or drawing that depicts activity, emotion, or a story in its own right. Make a running list of story…
Why Everyone Should Write According To Stephen King – Zksnyder.com - […] adverbs, and it is a great book for anyone interested in writing. According to Stephen King, “good story ideas…

Submit a Comment Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Submit Comment

Join over 450,000 readers who are saying YES to practice. You’ll also get a free copy of our eBook 14 Prompts :

Popular Resources

Book Writing Tips & Guides Creativity & Inspiration Tips Writing Prompts Grammar & Vocab Resources Best Book Writing Software ProWritingAid Review Writing Teacher Resources Publisher Rocket Review Scrivener Review Gifts for Writers

Books By Our Writers

Now, Take Your Idea and Write a Book!

Enter your email to get a free 3-step worksheet and start writing your book in just a few minutes.

You've got it! Just us where to send your guide.

Enter your email to get our free 10-step guide to becoming a writer.

You've got it! Just us where to send your book.

Enter your first name and email to get our free book, 14 Prompts.

Share full article

Supported by

Guest Essay

José Andrés: Let People Eat

A woman wearing a head scarf sits on a cart next to a box of food marked “World Central Kitchen.”

By José Andrés

Mr. Andrés is the founder of World Central Kitchen.

In the worst conditions you can imagine — after hurricanes, earthquakes, bombs and gunfire — the best of humanity shows up. Not once or twice but always.

The seven people killed on a World Central Kitchen mission in Gaza on Monday were the best of humanity. They are not faceless or nameless. They are not generic aid workers or collateral damage in war.

Saifeddin Issam Ayad Abutaha, John Chapman, Jacob Flickinger, Zomi Frankcom, James Henderson, James Kirby and Damian Sobol risked everything for the most fundamentally human activity: to share our food with others.

These are people I served alongside in Ukraine, Turkey, Morocco, the Bahamas, Indonesia, Mexico, Gaza and Israel. They were far more than heroes.

Their work was based on the simple belief that food is a universal human right. It is not conditional on being good or bad, rich or poor, left or right. We do not ask what religion you belong to. We just ask how many meals you need.

From Day 1, we have fed Israelis as well as Palestinians. Across Israel, we have served more than 1.75 million hot meals. We have fed families displaced by Hezbollah rockets in the north. We have fed grieving families from the south. We delivered meals to the hospitals where hostages were reunited with their families. We have called consistently, repeatedly and passionately for the release of all the hostages.

All the while, we have communicated extensively with Israeli military and civilian officials. At the same time, we have worked closely with community leaders in Gaza, as well as Arab nations in the region. There is no way to bring a ship full of food to Gaza without doing so.

That’s how we served more than 43 million meals in Gaza, preparing hot food in 68 community kitchens where Palestinians are feeding Palestinians.

We know Israelis. Israelis, in their heart of hearts, know that food is not a weapon of war.

Israel is better than the way this war is being waged. It is better than blocking food and medicine to civilians. It is better than killing aid workers who had coordinated their movements with the Israel Defense Forces.

The Israeli government needs to open more land routes for food and medicine today. It needs to stop killing civilians and aid workers today. It needs to start the long journey to peace today.

In the worst conditions, after the worst terrorist attack in its history, it’s time for the best of Israel to show up. You cannot save the hostages by bombing every building in Gaza. You cannot win this war by starving an entire population.

We welcome the government’s promise of an investigation into how and why members of our World Central Kitchen family were killed. That investigation needs to start at the top, not just the bottom.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has said of the Israeli killings of our team, “It happens in war.” It was a direct attack on clearly marked vehicles whose movements were known by the Israel Defense Forces.

It was also the direct result of a policy that squeezed humanitarian aid to desperate levels. Our team was en route from a delivery of almost 400 tons of aid by sea — our second shipment, funded by the United Arab Emirates, supported by Cyprus and with clearance from the Israel Defense Forces.

The team members put their lives at risk precisely because this food aid is so rare and desperately needed. According to the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification global initiative, half the population of Gaza — 1.1. million people — faces the imminent risk of famine. The team would not have made the journey if there were enough food, traveling by truck across land, to feed the people of Gaza.

The peoples of the Mediterranean and Middle East, regardless of ethnicity and religion, share a culture that values food as a powerful statement of humanity and hospitality — of our shared hope for a better tomorrow.

There’s a reason, at this special time of year, Christians make Easter eggs, Muslims eat an egg at iftar dinners and an egg sits on the Seder plate. This symbol of life and hope reborn in spring extends across religions and cultures.

I have been a stranger at Seder dinners. I have heard the ancient Passover stories about being a stranger in the land of Egypt, the commandment to remember — with a feast before you — that the children of Israel were once slaves.

It is not a sign of weakness to feed strangers; it is a sign of strength. The people of Israel need to remember, at this darkest hour, what strength truly looks like.

José Andrés is a chef and the founder of World Central Kitchen.

The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips . And here’s our email: [email protected] .

Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook , Instagram , TikTok , WhatsApp , X and Threads .

IMAGES

storytelling-lesson-plan
Power and Purpose of Words, Stories, and Storytelling Essay
(PDF) Book Review Essay: Pitfalls in Storytelling Advice and Praxis
😱 Storytelling essay format. FREE Digital Storytelling Essay. 2019-03-03
Tips for great storytelling :)
Interpreting Your Essay Question

VIDEO

How to write an A+ essay in Medical School EVERY TIME ✍🏼
Mastering the art of storytelling with every essay. 📝 #EssayWriting #CreativeWriting

COMMENTS

7,500 Questions for Use When Storytelling (Detailed)
2. Individuals' Life Story. In the article, 351 Questions to Ask Others About Their Life's Story, the interview and writing prompt and questions about life focus on an individual's life story. Areas covered include early years, school years, Marriage, Family, Parents and Grandparents, profession and career, military and war and personal experiences.
550 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing
Update, Sept. 9, 2022: We published a new collection of 445 narrative and personal writing prompts. We've been posting fresh writing prompts every school day for over a decade now, and every so ...
Narrative Essay Topics: TOP 200 Choices for Students
Focus on a specific event or detail to make your narrative more focused and impactful. Look for universal themes like love or personal transformation that connect with readers on a deeper level. Brainstorm ideas and write freely to uncover compelling topics. Decide on storytelling techniques like flashbacks or foreshadowing and choose a topic ...
How to Write a Narrative Essay
Topics for narrative essays can range from the important to the trivial. Usually the point is not so much the story itself, but the way you tell it. A narrative essay is a way of testing your ability to tell a story in a clear and interesting way. You're expected to think about where your story begins and ends, and how to convey it with eye ...
650 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing
Here is a PDF of all 650 prompts, and we also have a related lesson plan, From 'Lives' to 'Modern Love': Writing Personal Essays With Help From The New York Times.. Below, a list that ...
351 Life Story Questions to Ask People (Storytelling)
These 351 writing prompts and questions are part of a 28 article, 108 category series entitled " 7,500-plus Questions About Life to Ask People When Writing Narratives .". I have divided the writing prompts and questions to ask others into the following categories. Click on the category to be taken to the questions.
Crafting Compelling Narrative Essays: Storytelling Techniques for
Effective storytelling in narrative essays revolves around several key elements: 1. Character. Every narrative essay needs a protagonist, often the writer themselves. Developing a well-rounded character with relatable traits and emotions is essential for creating a connection with the reader. 2. Setting. The backdrop of the story sets the tone ...
How to tell a captivating story
7. Before you deliver the story, practice, practice and practice again - but don't memorize it. It's natural to feel nerves before sharing a story aloud. Become very familiar with your story ...
How to Tell a Story Effectively: 7 Storytelling Tips
1. Choose a clear central message. A great story usually progresses towards a central moral or message. When crafting a story, you should have a definite idea of what you're building toward. If your story has a strong moral component, you'll want to guide listeners or readers to that message.
500 Prompts for Narrative and Personal Writing
Every school day since 2009 we've asked students a question based on an article in The New York Times. Now, five years later, we've collected 500 of them that invite narrative and personal writing and pulled them all together in one place (available here as a PDF).. The categorized list below touches on everything from sports to travel, education, gender roles, video games, fashion, family ...
Storytelling Essays: Examples, Topics, & Outlines
A narrative essay is probably the most personal and least formal type of academic essay you will be asked to write. Narrative essays are all about storytelling, which means that they may be somewhat less structured or rigid than other types of essays. While that can be a benefit to some writers, for others the fact that narratives are not as tightly structured makes them more difficult to ...
Things Fall Apart: A+ Student Essay: The Role of Storytelling in Things
The Commissioner's decision to become a writer reflects Achebe's ambiguous relationship to the events and culture he describes in Things Fall Apart. With this novel, the Nigerian Achebe straddles the two opposing modes of storytelling he depicts within the plot, employing both the looping, repetitive style of the Igbo's oral culture as ...
Common Module
Question 11. Storytelling ignites new ideas about the multifaceted nature of human behaviour. Discuss this statement in relation to your prescribed text. Question 12. Through the telling and receiving of stories, we are made more aware of aspects in our own lives and cultures. Explore this statement with close reference to your prescribed text ...
Storytelling Essay Examples
Essay On Storytelling. Lyndsay Miller Ms. Williams English 12 10 November 2014 Storytelling Storytelling is the oral tradition of sharing stories and recounting events of the past. It is an ancient art form and is a dear form of human expression (What is). Most historians and psychologists alike agree that storytelling is one of the many things ...
Beyond the 5 W's: What should you ask before starting a story?
You may be accustomed to writing a focus statement. There's nothing wrong with that, but I'm partial to questions instead of statements. A question gives you a mission; a puzzle to solve. The process of answering that question focuses your reporting and allows your story to become a journey for the listener or reader.
10 Storytelling Interview Questions With Sample Answers
Result: Discuss the outcome of your actions. You can use this list of 10 story-based questions and sample STAR answers to help you prepare for your next interview: 1. Tell me a little about yourself. Employers often begin an interview with this storytelling question because they're looking for a brief summary of your past.
Essay questions story-telling as effective mentoring
The first is that "mentoring" is a reliable and valid construct. In reality, mentoring means so many different things to so many different people that using the term can hinder the process of helping faculty to get their needs met. I also questioned the common myth that new faculty should sink or swim (aka "mentor thyself").
Year 11 Module A Narratives that Shape Our World: 30 Practice Questions
Question 11. Storytelling is healing, in many ways. You can reach an audience and heal, and by heal, I mean entertain and provoke. It's a wonderful life. In light of this statement, critically analyse the role of storytelling within society. In your response, refer to at least ONE of the texts you have studied in this Module.
Your top 6 storytelling questions (Answered by an expert ...
Your top 6 storytelling questions (Answered by an expert storyteller) In our recent webinar, " Persuading Your Audience Through Story " with Duarte content developers and speaker coaches Jeff Davenport and Doug Neff, we received great audience questions about the art of storytelling. Following, Jeff answers six of the most asked questions ...
The Storyteller Essay Questions
The Storyteller Essay Questions. 1. How do the morals of the bachelor's tale and the aunt's story connect to the works of some of the most respected and renowned philosophers through the ages, like St. Augustine, Kant, and Nietzsche? The difference is nothing less than a philosophical divergence on the issue of morality.
The Handmaid's Tale Essay Questions
4. How is The Handmaid's Tale a novel about the writing process? What issues of storytelling does Offred raise in the Tale, and how does she choose to resolve or sidestep those issues? 5. One of the main goals of the Gilead Regime seems to be to control and regulate sex and sexuality.
(PDF) Why Storytelling Matters: Unveiling the Literacy ...
According to Agosto (2016), storytelling can help develop cognitive engagement, critical thinking, and story sequencing. In addition, his research shows that follow-up activities such as ...
Top 100 Short Story Ideas
10 Short Story Ideas by Joe Bunting - The world of writing - […] writers have too many short story ideas, not too few. However, therein lies the problem, because the more ideas you…. The Lure of A New Story - Comma Grounds - […] But before you go, check out this list of Top 100 Short Story Ideas!
Opinion
1025. By José Andrés. Mr. Andrés is the founder of World Central Kitchen. Leer en español. In the worst conditions you can imagine — after hurricanes, earthquakes, bombs and gunfire — the ...