Challenge
The First Piece I Ever Wrote
I have always loved writing. I used to create short stories when I was finished my school work back in elementary school and high school. I lived in fairytale lands because my real world wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses. I used to use my grandparents computer and come up with character names and gather plot ideas when I wasn’t busy stuffing my nose into a book.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹2 years ago in Writers
Quirks and Quacks in the Countryside
Mortimer, Neil and Phil Mortimer and Pals Neil and Phil In a quaint corner of the UK countryside, nestled between rolling hills and fields of lush green grass and wildflower meadows, lived a lovely old chap known as farmer Arthur. He was known throughout the villages for his hearty laugh, love for a good pint, and, of course, his peculiar flock of ducks. He lived alone on his small farm tending to a modest collection of feathered friends, each with its own unique charm, but one of his ducks, in particular, stood out from the rest. This unique duck was named Mortimer. Mortimer had an odd characteristic that raised more than a few eyebrows among the locals. While all the other ducks quacked merrily in their distinct voices, Mortimer, for reasons known only to him, honked like a ship's foghorn. Yep, you read that right—a deep, resonating honk that echoed across the local fields. It was as if he was a lighthouse or watchman for his buddies he certainly was a rather unconventional character.
By ColdHardCash2 years ago in Writers
The Little Writer
The memory is a little fuzzy around the edges, but some bits of it are sharp. I am sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a jumble of boots, shoes, sandals, trainers and slippers. Hunched forward over the pale plastic wellie-boot cradled in my lap. My pudgy fingers gripping my stolen treasure - a blue biro. I huff my fringe out of my eyes to better see my craft and avoid smudging the blue ink.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Writers
The Monkey with His Umbrella
Before writing my first story I had dabbled in some poetry, trying to figure out different patterns and poem types. Using the blank book in a writing class was the first time I was told to write an entire story while coloring pictures with crayons . The Monkey with his Umbrella was a story that came to me because of seeing a Madeline episode where a monkey steals her umbrella from her in the zoo.
By Seashell Harpspring 2 years ago in Writers
My First Piece I ever wrote
My first time doing Vocal was like one of the new steps for me during pandemic, self-worth,and isolation. Same thing as my first challenge in summer 2021. I thought it’s very important to do as many new things as I could during the pandemic. I have to take my risks including one of my fears: I have to conquer it after the ableism I faced through. For starters, I was curious, but I’m extremely nervous and disheartened. Why? Because I have a serious issue dealing with mixed receptive-expressive language disorder, one of mixed delayed development disorders I have had since I was two or three.
By Meghan LeVaughn 2 years ago in Writers
When Writing about Disabilities
As a DeafBlind writer, when I'm not immersed in crafting or researching my stories, I enjoy reading others' perspectives on disabled individuals. However, much of the content I encounter is both frustrating and ableist, continuing to cast disabled people in a negative light through the choice of words.
By Punit kumar2 years ago in Writers
For Ever
Chapter 1: We Are Family The old man sat in his chair staring deeply into the black and white photo in his hand. He seemed to be completely lost in a distant memory. The world no longer existed. Only his thoughts of the past. A time long gone but never forgotten. The young lady in the picture was very pretty. Her name was Molly, and he could still hear her beautiful voice in his head. Her skin was smooth as silk. Her eyes were so bold you could almost see the color blue although the picture had no color. He could see it. He really didn’t need the picture. He could see her in his head as if she was still in front of him. Her hair was blond. She looked intelligent, educated, smart. Her smile was contagious, bring a smile to anyone who see her. However, the old man was not smiling. His face dropped into a frown and a single tear began to fall from his eye and down his left cheek. It rolled off his cheek and onto the piece of paper on his desk on which he was just writing. The tear put a stain on the paper. Then another tear fell and another after that.
By David E. Perry2 years ago in Writers
My First Piece Was a Sonnet. Top Story - August 2023.
My first piece of writing was a poem that was lost long ago along with my early innocence. My first memorable piece, which is still with me a few decades later, was a sonnet (The Yellow Afternoons of October) in honour of Sigmund Freud, who I was reading (studying) at the same time that I was learning Shakespeare. What joy and sadness from both! They are still two of my favourite writers. I received a BA in English and a BA in psychology, although the latter was not as rewarding as the former, since Freud was being brazenly bashed, mostly by individuals in denial. Interestingly, my favourite course ever, and I have close to twenty years of graduate studies, was titled Freud and Literature. Those were the days, and nights.
By Patrick M. Ohana2 years ago in Writers
The Enchanted Jungle: A Magical Quest
In a realm where the sun kissed the earth with a golden embrace and the air was filled with whispers of ancient spells, there lived a young boy named Leo. With eyes that held a glimmer of curiosity and a heart that beat to the rhythm of adventure, Leo's ordinary life was about to take an extraordinary turn.
By Shaikh Ali2 years ago in Writers
