What was the last few paragraphs you wrote?


I was thinking the same even as I was writing it, but that’s what I get for writing drunk! :wink: Thanks for the direction.


“Here.” Her voice is nearly crushed by the steps below. I look over the railing, finding her at 10. “I can’t take this,” she phase, but I hear the exhausted tears in her voice. I think we all are feeling them, but I believe, unlike Cressidy, we had a bit more training. Nonetheless, I could not stop admiring her for coming with us when she didn’t have too.

“Okay,” I hear myself saying. “We turn in here. One up, now, Cressidy! You can do it! 15 more steps.” I pull the door to the floor open and Billie and Tom dive in. I hold the door open, waiting as she comes closer. As the thunder of steps creeps up.

“Halt!” Someone yells from under us. I look down, not only catching the black for their uniforms but guns. I try to swallow the tears forming in my eyes. Cressidy comes up beside me.

“You need to go,” she say. “I’ll continue up - get them thinking for a moment - then you guys find a way out from 11. I’ll come back. It’s not me they’re after.”

From my short-story :slight_smile:


Danny nodded curtly and turned away to stare out at the landscape before him. London seemed rather beautiful at night. There was something about the city that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He wondered whether he’d stay when it was all over. It seemed like the right place for a fresh start and new opportunities. It sometimes felt like he owed Havant everything, yet in reality, there was nothing left to anchor him there. Not now.
He pulled a photo of the pair of them from his pocket and gazed at the picture. It had only been taken recently, just a month ago. His hair had been relatively long at the time and ruffled into a messy scrawl and complemented by a slight amount of dark stubble that was just about visible. His blue-grey eyes were warm with tolerant amusement, and he was beaming.
Stacy was in front of him. Her chocolate brown hair fell in a long, slender curtain around her shoulders, extending as far as her shoulder blades. She had a rebellious lock of hair that swung down across her right eye. Her smile alone was enough to bring a tear to his eyes. He still couldn’t quite believe that he had the honour of being her partner. She was all he wanted from life.
“Is that her?” Sam asked as he glanced over.
Danny nodded. “Yeah, that’s my girl. She’s the only reason I’m not sticking my head in the sand somewhere.”
“Good on her,” Sam replied with a chuckle. “For putting up with you at the very least.”
“She’d tear you apart for saying that you know,” Danny replied with a grin of his own. He appreciated Sam’s attempt at cheering him up.
“She’ll understand. I can’t be any worse than you, can I?”
“Be very careful what you wish for, Samuel.”
They both looked up as the streetlights went out around them. Everything took on a supernatural look as they watched every other one of the lights go out like a perfectly sequenced set of landing lights on a runway. The darkness invaded quickly.
“Ok, I didn’t mean it quite that literally,” Danny breathed as he looked around. They couldn’t even see the London skyline. “Power cut?”
“Possibly…” there was an element of hesitation in Sam’s voice as he raised a hand to wipe sweat from his brow.
“I sense a ‘but’ there.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
Danny rolled his eyes as he retrieved his phone from his pocket. His face fell as he glanced at the screen. “No signal either.”
Sam groaned as he checked his phone. “Same here.”
Danny switched the radio on to receive nothing but static. Everything was down. He dreaded to think about the places that required power to operate. “Must be the Rogues. We’re under attack.”

Little something I’m working on for The Last Man Standing :slight_smile:


Thank you so much with the grammar help. It’s the thing I struggle the most with. Plus I wrote that at 3am so it probably shows. And it’s a fantasy novel that pulls influence from a few different eras including the Victorian era.


Unknown man POV…

I sit at my screen watching Zara curled up on her bed crying. Crying over him. From the periodic checks I’ve done on Ty’s phone, she has called over forty times and left numerous texts. My heart hurts for her but in time she will understand that I had to do this for us. She will know that our love is all consuming and makes us do crazy things, things we wouldn’t do for anyone else.

“Help me!” Ty screams out.

I slowly get up from my chair, mask on ready to cause him some pain. I walk slowly over to him suffering from the struggle of tying the big fucker up to one of the many steel beams throughout this building last night. My back is paying for it in the worst way. The closer I get to him the more he struggles to break free making me want to smash his face in even more for making my back spasm in pain.

As I look down at him he squares his shoulders trying to look menacing. But that doesn’t intimidate me. I’ve killed before and I will definitely do it again. But this kill will mean more to me than anything. This kill will solidify the relationship between Zara and I.

“I said shut the fuck up!” I shout before I smash my boot into his face. His head rebounds off the steel beam, bobbing about like the decorative dog I have on my dashboard as blood oozes down his face.

“Why are you doing this?” Ty mumbles thrusting himself forward in an attempt to bite my leg. I step back and look at him in disgust as I contemplate whether I should tell him my plan seen as though he will be dead soon.

“I’m talking to you, why are you doing this?”

The chains of his shackles jingle the more he struggles. But I continue to stare at him wondering how this piece of shit managed to get my beautiful Zara.

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want just please let me go,” he whines.

Before I can respond, I hear the jingling of keys. As I walk some distance away, I take off my mask and shove it in my pocket. I walk with purpose to get to the front door before my son can enter.

“Oh God, dad what are you doing here?” he says placing his hand on his heart.

“Is this not my building?”

“Yes it is, but you rarely come here and I told you that I would be coming here to study in peace.”

“Well, I’m using…” I trail off as Ty’s screams for help interrupt me.

My son looks at me with wide eyes before asking. “Who is that?”

“Trevor, I am busy. So you need to go right now,” I say sternly. He nervously looks up at me before turning his skinny frame around.

“Give me your keys please,” I demand with my hand outstretched. He places them in my hand and turns just as quick striding to the gate that encases my building


From something completely different from Xi and his endless emotional turmoil :slight_smile:

These paragraphs are me editing the Stellar Cruises: (not-Polymorphus is the new robot the crew just acquired. Vera is hangover)

The first edict Polymorphus issued was that nobody is allowed to call them Polymorphus.

Vera waved the robot away, before hunching over her first and only cup of coffee a day, “Okay, not-Polymorphus it is.”

BE squeezed himself into the tiny galley and sat next to Vera.

“I don’t remember you being this bright, BE,” she shielded her eyes. Ye gods, Wanderlust was such a small ship, that three was a crowd. “I thought it was more of a soft glow like mother-of-pearl.”

“Good morning, vai-vai!” BE patted his plump cheeks. “Excitement brings the colour up. Very attractive, no?”

“Sentients never miss their chance to vocalize,” the robot commented to no-one in particular. “And the more insipid the observation, the more trivial the occasion, the longer they spend on rolling it out of their mouth. Truly, the wordiness of the sentients is one of the best arguments in favour of the autonomy of the mechanicals in and of itself.”

“Yeah.” Vera took another sip, “Wait, what?!” She felt her eyes belatedly bulge out. Her post-libation reflexes were not worth a shit.

“Not to belabour the point, but they are incapable of holding back their verbal reactions, even when it is beyond certain that it is superfluous,” the orange blob noted with a look… no, with a sound of deep satisfaction. Their surface did not change in colour, lustre or shape.


From an unreleased chapter in The True Covenant

Mom smiled a little. “No. You’ll be fine. If you start practicing more, we’ll just have to change how you eat. Daddy paid the same price as you for most of his magic. He ate like a man twice his size when we were on jobs and usually had something in his pockets in case of emergencies.”

The thought of Gandalf having to stop for snack time with the Hobbits after he cast a spell was just ridiculous, frankly. I could at least understand I probably didn’t have it the worst in terms of cost. I barely felt the hunger when I did small stuff. “…Is that why you don’t use your powers? Because they hurt? Why do they hurt?”

“I mean… I am catching on fire most of the time,” she said with a soft laugh. “I still feel it, I just don’t burn.”

“Oh.” I still had no idea what mom could actually do. I had seen so little of her power over the years.

“Mostly I don’t use my powers because they are dangerous and attract attention. I always had to be careful working with your father. He actually started using fire fighting equipment because I had no way to keep him out of my range. He couldn’t even carry ammunition on tough jobs because I could set it off accidentally.”

I giggled a little in spite of how serious she was being. “Why didn’t he just wear the same stuff you did?”

“What do you mean?”

“You wear fireproof stuff, right?”

“No,” she laughed. “Half the time my clothes burned off by the time we were done. That’s why there is an extra set of my clothes in all of the cars to this day.”

I started laughing, too. I could just see her strolling out of a fire naked with dad trailing behind in a fireman’s PPE, carrying a partially melted gun. No doubt she would complain about how rude the monster they just fought was while she got dressed. Dad would probably roll his eyes and mourn the loss of another firearm.


This is from my story Igniting Sparks. A still unpublished chapter.

“So what do you suggest? For me to go out, find a guy and have sex. Demand he gives me an orgasm and then see what happens?”

“Yeah kind of. That’s a good summary actually. And you’re going to do it this weekend. You can join me at the bar and I’ll give you a hand with finding a guy. And no, you’re not refusing. You’ve been turning me down when it came to joining me at the bar for over a year. This weekend, you and I go out and you either go home with someone, or bring someone back here. I’ll even let you borrow a condom.”

This time it was her turn to laugh. She placed her utensils down and almost choked. Lucas offered her some water and patted her on the back. After she calmed down she looked up at him again.

“You’re dead serious about this aren’t you?” The wide smile he gave her was enough answer. “Just don’t think you can turn me into a female version of you.”

“We’ll see about that. This Saturday, all you have to do is wear a nice matching outfit.” Now finish dinner because I desperately need to kick you out of the house."

“Yeah yeah, I suddenly have to hurry so you can try to make her girlfriend. I’m still surprised you haven’t brought her home sooner. It’s been three whole weeks!” She paused and thought for a moment. A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “You haven’t slept with her yet, have you? You actually managed to keep it in your pants and you want to seal the deal tonight! Oh Lucas, I’m seeing a completely different side of you!”

She snickered as he glared at her. The tables had turned and it was her time to make him uneasy. Something he normally made sure did not last long.

“Keep this up and no dessert for you.”


“So,” she said, pausing. “Why are you out here?”

I tore my gaze from the stars. Glancing away, I started to swing my legs back and forth, liking that I was high enough in the tree that it’d hurt to fall. She was a fluke in tonight’s plan. Just like she always was. That’s how little sister’s were.

“I just wanted to see the moon,” I lied.

She scrunched her nose up. After taking a few steps away from my tree, her eyes skimmed the sky, looking for the moon. I held in a sigh. The clouds had devoured the moon an hour ago. But of course Brittney wanted to check my alibi.


I really like the way this bit is told! really cute!


Alexandra played the song a few more minutes until she saw Elle’s always stressed and scared face finally relax into sleep. Setting her guitar down, she walked quietly over to Elle and bundled her up in her arms, carrying her over and laying her softly on the comfy couch. Alexandra made sure to lay her wings in such a way that wouldn’t cause any pain for her and grabbed a blanket from a nearby drawer. It was heavy and warm, a quilt that Alexandra herself used during particularly cold days. Tonight was definitely worthy of pulling out such a blanket, but Alexandra knew who needed it more. She walked through the small cabin turning off the lights and making sure the door was locked. She rarely did this, but then again she wasn’t responsible for another person before. taking one last look at Elle, she smiled and walked to her room, ready herself for a good nights sleep. Just as she laid down and was under the heavy blankets, she heard Elle begin to loudly snore, letting Alexandra know a good nights sleep was gonna have to wait for now.


Yours is really good! Why does Elle have wings? :open_mouth:


Irina nodded, choking back more tears, sick of crying, and laughed when she realized she was nodding to a phone. “Yes,” she said, “That would be nice. Please.”

“Great,” Eric said softly, as if he were being careful not to startle her, “I’ll be there in ten.”

He ended the call, and Irina pinched the bridge of her nose. She could not have been more of a disastrous human being than she was at this very moment, and still he was coming to have coffee with her. She laughed again, giddy and shaking, and felt as if her lungs were being released from a tight grip that had held them for days, felt as if her spine were elongating and her very blood had been cleansed. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and quickly jumped to her bedroom to change out of her funeral attire. She would wear something comfy, but something nice, she decided, swiping through her closet. Something Camille would have worn.


Yes a YA Romance/Coming-of-Age novel

Thanks for sending the title - I can’t wait to add that to my reading list and getting a better understanding!

B xx


Hey there,

Asking people to read your story is considered advertising, even if no links are provided, and is only allowed in the Share Your Story club. You can read the guidelines for posting in the clubs here.

If you’re looking for more readers and feedback, have you considered joining a book club or hiring a critic?

You can find them in our Story Services club along with a lot of other useful resources for authors.

I’ll go ahead and remove your post for you.

Thank you for your understanding.

Katherine - Community Ambassador :katherinearlene:


lol sorry. Was meant to be a joke. I’ll keep that in mind tho.


Thank you :katherinearlene:


"…Sahara didn’t answer immediately; she didn’t get the chance, really. Nash had moved from his place in front of the group, map folded carefully in his hands. With the distance, Sahara couldn’t hear what he said to Yuri, but it was obviously regarding why he had yelled. Yuri, with a hasty reply back, pointed a finger towards one of the trees near the side of the road. Sahara, along with everyone else, looked in the direction he was pointing in to see what had startled him so. What she saw made her stare in disbelief.

Atop a high-hanging branch, a figure sat delicately on the thin limb, staring down at them in genuine curiosity. It looked like a man, short and with a naturally thin frame to his body. His skin was a natural blush, with full lips and a prominent bridge to his nose. However, his eyes were a stark yellow, pupils each slit like a snake’s, and there were ridged spike-like indentions on the exposed skin of his face and neck. His clothes, a single piece of thick material wrapped about his body, was the same color as the light bark. Seeing them all looking at him, he raised a hand to wave gaily at them, a broad grin stretching across his face. Even with how high he was above the ground, the jagged nature of his teeth could be seen quite clearly.

“Hello there!” he called down to them, “The name’s Trixter. Might I ask what you’re doing in my forest?”


“No, not really” he wasn’t sure of what she had to share, as far as he knew, he knew April inside out, knew that she preferred crunchy peanut butter to smooth, knew that when she was eighteen she tried to dye her hair blue but it ended up green, knew that she couldn’t sleep on an empty stomach, she hated the word cluster and moist, and couldn’t stand the smell of paint, but this sudden secrecy perplexed him, he thought he knew her, so in his head he listed everything she loved; indigo, The Rolling Stones, Labradors, hole punched paper, bikes, channel 4, Autumn, the number forty-four, jean shorts, striped tops, toffee, apple-scented shampoo, innocent smoothies, and Jurassic Park 2, he listed all those things to convince himself that he hadn’t been in love with a stranger. “You’re not gonna tell me you used to be a man are you?” he gave her a slight nudge on the shoulder that told her to lighten up and his blue eyes crinkled like aging newspaper when he smiled.


I know, it’s intended, and I like the visuals/little things, but, omg, is this one long sentence…

After a spike of joy, he clawed his way back to calm. With his mind settled, came understanding. “You knew…” he whispered. “You tried to show me, all the faces of beautiful maidens… you wanted me to guess I am meant for your sisters.”

“I am the Bird of Prophecy, beloved.”

Xi whimpered: the nickname, too, was a give-away for years. “Then why didn’t you just told me my fate—-“

“I am the Bird of Prophecy, I can’t give out all the answers to the seekers,” she cooed, “But why are you crying? You were born to soar with us.”

His eyes remained dry, but a sobbing laugh shook his body, the edge of hysteria prickling his throat. The words, such as he could muster, came out barely above whisper, “All I want to be is a war mage.”

“My clutch of eggs won’t hatch, until we felt hope,” Fenghuang said. “I want to see the colour of your scales, I want to see the knowledge grow, lifting the others to our skies.”

“Others…” Xi muttered. “Others!” Surely, Sayewa and he could find someone willing, someone older, someone dreaming of ascending to the ultimate incarnation of mystical power.

Fenghuang’s thoughts dimmed, in her trying to protect his desperate hope. He clang to it, stubbornly, “there must be a way, must be…”