share the first 600 words of your story ✨


Many of us are working on projects or have those prologues we never post. Well, get them out of the depths of your laptop and present them here.
It is a simple task. All you have to do is share the first 600 words of your story(it doesn’t matter if it is posted or edited) and we can discuss and talk about what we liked.
Please be polite and nice to everyone and don’t post links.

Here is mine:


p r o l o g u e

I was eleven when I drowned for the first time. It wasn’t like what they showed in the movies, there were no flailing arms and kicking legs. Just plain submission to water and death.

I remembered playing with sand on the beach and feeling a sudden tug. As if the salty air was whispering my name, luring me in with their call. Against my will, my feet moved towards the water.

The cold water wrapped around my ankles, bringing an odd relief to my burning skin. My eyes were focused on the vast ocean as I walked deeper and deeper into the water.

I was already chin deep when I broke out of the trance. As if something pulled at my ankles, my body was dragged into the deep belly of the ocean. I didn’t even have the chance to scream for help.

Water attacked me from all the sides, throwing me around like a rag doll. My body curled as harsh laps of waves pushed me deeper. I was at total mercy to water’s amusement.

As the distance between me and the surface increased the pale blue color of water faded to dark hues of indigo that almost resembled black. My ears popped with the pressure that was building up on my body, threatening to crush my bones under the weight of water above me.

My legs were frozen as my hands clutched my neck. With every passing second, my body lost its control. I wanted to scream and kick up to the surface, but the current pulled me deeper.

Desperation filled my mind as my lungs burned. My instincts scream for me to kick, to push, and reach for anything that could save my life. But the heaviness that rivaled lead, made it an impossible task.

I was desperate for that sweet taste of oxygen as frustration gripped my body. Fear sunk its claws in my heart, leaving me in a constant state of panic.

Finally giving in to the urge, I inhaled water. The heavyweight of the liquid settled in my lungs as spots danced across my vision. Pain in my chest intensified and threatened to burst my body with every fleeting second.

My mind reacted to the lack of oxygen, making me see scales across my skin. By now, I had given up hope of living. With one last glance at the dark vast depth of the ocean, I felt blackout.

I was in a state of delirium, feeling detached from my own body. My senses were numbed as I felt my body float higher. I could feel the faint jerks of CPR and the touch on my lips.

With my mind disoriented, I vomited the water that had settled into my lungs. There were screams all around, blending together in a blur of deafening noise.

The next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital room with an IV attached to my arm. My limbs were sore as a blue tint to my skin reminded of the ordeal that I went through.

My eyes flickered up to meet the familiar warm browns.

My father was a mess as he rushed to my side. His eyes were swollen with tears as he wailed in both relief and anguish. The potent fear of losing me had gripped his soul, making my heartache with more than just physical pain.

It was an experience that I never wished to indulge in again. But it seemed like fate had other plans as years later, I found myself drowning again.



About yoursn, I always wonder, why add a prologue? :smiley:

I liked the end of the 600 words

These are the first 550 of my werewolf romance, which need a lot of work though -_-
but here it goes


Rajini crumpled the paper into a small ball and threw it hard against the opposite wall of the kitchen. It landed on the floor with a light thud and rolled away. She groaned in annoyance and dropped her head onto her arms against the kitchen table. Frustration and anger building up inside of her, wanting to scream those feelings out.

Why her? Her nails dug into the surface of the wooden table, glad none of the mated females who cooked for the pack, were around to tell her to stop molesting it like that.

“What’s the matter?” the voice of Adam, her alpha, echoed, breaking through the swiveling mess of her own thoughts. Rajini gave him a grunt in reply, not bothering to look up. She heard him pick up the paper and pull it open.

He inhaled slowly, the sheet frozen in his hands. The chair in front of her scraped over the floor, as her alpha sat down beside her.

Rajini slowly lifted her head out of her arms to look up at the man sitting beside her. The male was still strong, his changeling muscle tone showed that. At the same time he had thin lines on his face that gave away his older age, just as the grey that streaked through his once dark brown hair. He placed the letter on the table in front of him, smoothing it out to get the wrinkles away that she had caused. His blue eyes, that could see through everything, looked up from the paper to her.

“You have to stop this, Adam,” she said before he could say a word.

“You know I can’t go against the Leyum’s wishes,” he told her, while keeping his tone even and gently.

“They can’t just tell me to leave my pack for someone I don’t kno-”

“They can and they have. If I asked them to stop this, that would mean going against them. Do you know what happens if I go against the Leyum?” he paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in. “They’ll turn against our whole pack. We’ll be cut off from every resource. We’ll be put in exile,” his soft voice trailed off.

“But…” Rajini tried again.

The Leyum held a power that was not to be trifled with. It worked as a council who represented changelings worldwide and contained high ranked Changelings, Alpha’s, and Elders.They worked as a balance to the Ghuardian, who was at the top of the hierarchy. The Leyum held a large amount of power in their hands, and not even the Ghuardian, could do what he pleased without their consent.

“It’s a summons,” he continued, “With a trial of three months. If things don’t work out, you can come back.” He smiled at her, then leaned over the table and ran his knuckles over her cheek in a gentle caress. “And, who knows, maybe it won’t be that bad. You know your mate isn’t here, this is your chance to find him somewhere else. He could be out there waiting for you and there’s always a chance that it’ll be him.” The alpha motioned, referring to the sheet on the table between them. “Plus, it’s a real honor to be selected as a candidate for a beta of the Ghuardian.”

Rajini eyed the paper and slowly pulled it back towards her, reading the lines again slowly.


Somewhere in the suburbs of the city ‘Elbrish’, a bull was on the loose. The people standing in the streets rushed into their homes to be sure that they were not hit by his horns. Few men seem to be chasing him.

‘‘Once I catch you, you are dead, Laxamore,’’ a man yelled.

A 19 years old boy was running right in front of that bull. He looked back at the men then he looked at the pointy horns of that bull. Sweat was all over Laxamore’s face, ‘‘I’m telling you for the 100th time, I didn’t steal their clothes.’’

30 minutes ago, Laxamore was peeking on a few girls who were bathing in a pond. A thought occurred in his mind, at that moment he felt like a genius, one whose mind was superior to others. His face gave birth to a creepy smile. In his eyes, a fire of determination was fueled. He crawled near the tree under which those girls left their clothing. He grabbed them and crawled back. He sat on his spot waiting for the girls to come out and search for their clothes. But before they did, a bull who got free from the rope he was tied to, came running towards the place where Laxamore was. Laxamore noticed that and screamed as he was getting ready to run, ‘‘what the hell?’’ Which caught the attention of those girls, and they screamed as well. Which led to men gathering at the pond and the chase.

Laxamore moved his eyes at a fast speed to look for any possible escape. Suddenly, he felt someone’s arm on his neck, his legs lifted from the ground as he flipped and fell. His eyes saw a man in his 50s using only one hand to stop the bull, all those who were chasing him along with the bull stopped.

‘‘Um, dad, I can explain,’’ Laxamore was shaking.

His father lifted him up grabbing his hair as he punched his stomach. The ones who were chasing Laxamore started running back. His father dropped him down, ‘‘let’s go home, lunch is ready.’’

He and his father entered a home mainly made of stones cut and placed over each other, it was a two-story house, with wooden doors and windows. It was in an open field with no houses or any building structures around it.

They sat on a table, a woman (his mother) and a kid (his younger brother) started placing some wooden plates in front of them. The food was already present on the table, as they began to eat her mother said, ‘‘where were you, Laxamore.’’ Laxamore looked at his father with a confused look. His father looked back at him and nodded his head slightly. “He was sleeping in the field outside,” his father laughed. His mother stared at his father for a minute in complete silence then she looked at Laxamore as he lowered his head. “Tell me the truth, or there will be no dinner for you too.” His father stood up and pointed towards him, “he was perverting around again.” His mother kept staring at them for a while after a few minutes all of them started laughing.

“you should marry someone already, then you won’t have to run when you are caught, your father can’t always save you, you know,” his mother smiled a bit. Laxamore stood on the chair, placing his one foot on the table, making a fist, he lifted his arm up and said, “I want to choose my wife after I confirm that she is the one I want, and that can only be achieved by looking beyond the restriction of those unneeded chains that bind us from seeing that uncovered ripen fruit.” “how many time,” his mother looked at him in anger, “do I have to,” Laxamore notice the anger on her face, he started sweating, “tell you,” she grabbed a wooden plate in front of her and threw it towards him, “don’t place your feet on the table.” The plate hit him on his head making him lose balance and fall.

“Ah… I forgot something, I will be back,” saying this he ran out of the house. “He will leave tomorrow, so just let him do what he wants, okay,” his father placed his hand on his mother. “That’s why I’m more worried,” his mother recalled Laxamore laughing like a fool, “his foolishness always gets him in trouble, I don’t know how he will manage it in the capital, away from us.”

“He is a grown man now, he will be just fine,” as his father said this he heard Laxamore screaming outside. He came out of the house and saw Laxamore running away from a dog. “Um… Honey! Maybe you were right.”


I love this :heart_eyes:


gosh the end had me smiling!


ah happy to know


Thank you so much ^.^
It’s still a bit rough though


editing never ends type type type

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lol ikr thats why i posted it without any edits lmao

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me too! :joy: I am too lazy/sleep deprived to edit

yes once you read it again brain starts giving signals not to write the next part lol


ah, I decided to edit aftre finishing the story for that reason


best choice in my opinion reader also point out the mistakes so it kinda makes it easy to edit lol


yup! my auto-correct kept correcting my female mc’s name…my reader pointed it out in a chapter :joy:

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yeah, but I do want to stay ahead of that
so I write, reread, let someone go through it, edit and then publish

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oh nice thats a trait of a pro

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wouldn’t call me a pro though xD

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hahaha hapens sometime when you use a self made name i had the same prob with city names and charslol

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604 words, hopefully it still works.


I grip the steering wheel of my truck, twisting it, as I take us on a shortcut home across a dirt field. My best friend, Jaret Shriver, holds onto his seat for dear life as the truck jerks and shakes. My other best friend, Aaron Mitchel, sits in the back fumbling with the straps on his football pads. We’ve been friends as long as I can remember and I hope to keep it that way. The fourth member of our party is Jeremiah Kilgore, the bishop’s son, and honestly he just hangs out with us because I give him rides home from practice.

I slam the brakes of my truck, receiving a chorus of complaints from the others.

Leaning over the dashboard I peer out at an alien forest. I step out of my truck, a red ford named Lucinda, and hear the snow crunch underneath my feet. I hold my tanned arms close to my body scanning the fir trees that surround the truck and the dense forest beyond them.

Although my t-shirt is black, it’s nowhere near adequate for this temperature. The cold permeates through my cleats and my bare ankles. Fresh out of practice and still in my football pants but now on a completely different side of the world. It never snows back home.

Hair falls down into my vision, I have crazy helmet hair, but I didn’t want to cut it short for the game. My girlfriend Samantha loves my chestnut brown hair. Shit, am I going to be able to get back home to her?

The passenger door opens up and a small figure walks around the front of the truck. Shriver comes into view with his notably mousy frame with only half my muscle mass. As he wades through the snow in cargo shorts and a baggy t-shirt, I could see the snow was only a few shades paler than his skin. Snow starts to pat down his curly red hair, and he shivers violently. I reach into my truck and grab a coat for him.

“Where are we?” Shriver says through chattering teeth as I hand him my jacket and walk around to his side of the truck.

“You forgot about the latch,” I say.

“Sorry,” Shriver sniffles.

“Looks like Europe by my guess,” I quickly add.

“What!” a voice booms from inside the truck. “You better fucking let me out, Dove.” The voice calls out the nickname Shriver gave me, a name the whole town calls me now. I release the latch on the passenger side and the giant of a running back climbs out. He was easily 6’5 leaving him a god next to Shriver’s 5’ 6 frame. Mitchel had been my friend about as long as Shriver has. We go back to when we struggled with nursery rhymes and had nap times.

“Where the fuck did you drive to?” Mitchel says with equal bits of sarcasm and terror in his voice as he steps out into the clearing. He turns around to look at his surroundings. He’s still wearing his pads, with our white and blue jersey, the number ‘80’ printed on it. With his helmet under one of his arms, he scratches his shaved head with the other as snow falls on his dark skin. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

“How so?” Kilgore says, the fourth member of our group, shuffling out of the truck. Can’t say I know him that well. He’s a grade lower than us, made it to varsity because of his great throwing arm, and occasionally needs rides home from practice. Now he’s with us wherever we are.