Mystery
Unveil the Face of Your Soulmate: Get an Amazing Soulmate Sketch Now!
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By Gulraj Singh3 years ago in Fiction
5 Guidelines for fiction writers
WHAT IS FICTION WRITTING? is the creation of fiction-based written compositions. Fictional writing frequently takes the form of a story intended to entertain readers or express the author's point of view. This could lead to the creation of a short story, novel, novella, screenplay, or drama, albeit these aren't the only forms of fictional writing. Novelists, playwrights, short story writers, radio playwrights, screenwriters, and other genre-specific authors all write fiction.
By Johanna Wanjiru3 years ago in Fiction
Lost in thought
She didn’t remember that grove of trees. Which, you are quite right, is ridiculous. How can a grove of trees look any different than another another grove of trees? And how could you possibly tell the difference between one and the next? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the low branches hitting the ground at the wrong angle. Or maybe it was the wildflowers around it that looked different. But she knew something was wrong.
By Brigitte Pellerin3 years ago in Fiction
Penny Dreadful Chapter 1
Prologue Dear Diary, I met the cutest cat today. She was hiding behind a dumpster by the bakery. I was hungry and thought Mr. Joe would have some cold rolls. But seeing such a cute cat behind the dumpster was a bonus. I took her to the bakery with me. I planned to get us both something sweet. Mr. Joe was extra nice today. It was weird. He seemed focused but in a different way. After ordering, he started to cry. He told me that I was going to be his last customer. Some mean loan guy was going to close Mr. Joe’s bakery. Which I can’t let happen. Where else am I gonna get my slightly cold bread from? I’ll have to think of a name for the cute cat later. Oh, and sneak her into my apartment. She’ll have to stay with Miss Cat Lady until I get back. In the meanwhile, I need to help Mr. Joe. I have the bestest idea. I just need to try to remember the loan guy’s name.
By Christopher Shavers3 years ago in Fiction
Trapped in the Darkness
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She had always been curious about what lay beyond the glass, but she knew better than to ask. Questions were not welcomed in this place, and she had learned to keep her thoughts to herself.
By Emmanuel Motelin3 years ago in Fiction
Anna's Window
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The window was her lone link to the world outside her four walls. It served as her lifeline and means of escape from the routine and monotony of her daily life.
By Cordell Black3 years ago in Fiction
It's chess between two players. While one person can read minds, the other has the ability to predict the future.
Chess is a game of two players, but the game is won by a player who has the ability to read minds. If I can read his mind, then I know that he knows that I know that he knows what move he's going to make. But if he can read my mind, then he knows that I know that he knows that I know what move he's going to make and so on. So ultimately, the player who has this ability will win every time because they can anticipate their opponent's moves before they are made—while all other players must rely on chance or luck in order to win at chess!
By Nipun M. Wijerathne3 years ago in Fiction
My Hostage Experience
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. On day 222, Antonia woke up like any other day waiting for a positive resolution of ransom negotiations between her captor and her family.
By Anthony Chan3 years ago in Fiction
My Mind's Eye
I've always known that I was different. Growing up, I could feel it in my bones – like there was something special inside of me, just waiting to be unleashed. How others treated me and how they stared at the weird kid in class was almost too much at times. And as I got older, that feeling grew stronger, and I got a bit more peculiar as the days went by.
By Matthew Angelo3 years ago in Fiction
The Window of Freedom
The city was a bleak, gray place, where the sun never seemed to shine and the only light came from the flickering fluorescent bulbs that hung from the ceiling of every room. The streets were empty and quiet as if life had been drained out of them. The only sound was the constant hum of the machines that kept the city running.
By hesbon otieno3 years ago in Fiction
