I'm going to post a story in parts. I don't know what the title is yet, so I'll call this P1.

P1 (Part I)

A bright blue feather drifted through the world, caught on a breeze. It wafted under the little wolf's nose, making him sneeze. He shook his tawny gray fur out and watched as the feather glided away from him. The little wolf ran and chased after it, following it over the snowy ground. Caught in a sudden updraft, the feather flew out of his reach. He leaped to catch it, but only succeeded in falling over. His leg twisted under him and he whimpered in pain. Where was his mother? Why wasn't she there to help? The little wolf tried to howl for her, but his voice was weak. She couldn't hear him. He was all alone.

The little wolf laid his head on his paws, sighing softly. What would happen to him? Would he die? And why was his leg in so much pain? He closed is eyes, gritting his teeth against the agony. Soon, it overwhelmed him, and he gave in to the blackness.

~~~

The wolf padded over the icy terrain, searching for her cub. Where had he gone? He could be anywhere! She howled, long and low, hoping that he'd respond if he could hear her. Nothing came. Her other cubs were safe in the den, blissfully unaware that their brother could be dead. She howled again, and again there was no response. She ran faster, farther, sniffing the ground for a trace of her cub. 

The wolf nearly buried her snout in the snow as she sniffed through it, trying to find a scent trail. She remembered she'd last seen her cub at the den, and then she'd taken a nap and when she woke up, he was gone. She leaped to her feet, suddenly even more worried. He would've left a trail from the den-- but what if it went stale? She raced through bushes, over logs, and across undergrowth, nearly flying back to the den. She anxiously searched all around the hollow tree, scouring it for any trace of her cub. And then she found it: The faintest scent, and tiny paw prints filling up with snow already. 

She was on his trail!

~~~ 

Okay... This is a story I thought of when I was bored at school. I might finish it later, but probably not because it's pretty dumb...

I knew the school year was going to be different the second I stepped into Mrs. Murphy's classroom.

First of all, the walls were covered in everything you could imagine: paintings and posters, paper butterflies, and strings of fake flowers. There was a huge purple rug in the corner, where the bookshelves were, and a shelf of miscellaneous items that we would soon discover the meanings of. An entire wall was dedicated to what looked like a collage of drawings, photographs, and random notes written by her previous students. She herself was something odd, with her cherry red hair and galaxy patterned sneakers. My first thought was; Oh no, I have a teacher cooler than I am. That was one thing that turned out to be true. Little did our class know that our school year was going to be much crazier than we thought.

On our first day, we did a big icebreaker game called the ring of trust. We all sat in a chair sideways in a circle, then laid our heads on the legs of the person behind us. One by one, the chairs were taken away, but surprisingly, we didn't fall down. 

Mrs. Murphy then led us back to the classroom, and we had a deep philosophical discussion about trust. She got a few of the popular kids to join in, and soon enough, the jocks and the slackers were arguing about the meaning of life. The day only got better from there. In science, we did a little "experiment" that left three kids covered in hot pink slime. In english, we played a game called trashball. She would ask you a question, and if you got it right, that was a point, but you also had to shoot a miniature basketball into a hoop-shaped trashcan. If you made it in, that was another point, and you could get even more with trick shots. It was the most fun I'd ever had in school.

Mrs. Murphy's sick now. We were just going about our day like normal. It was a beautiful spring day, and we were in math class. One minute she was fine, and the next thing we knew, she was clutching her chest and gasping for air. She fell to the ground, unconscious. We paniced. Eventually someone called 911, and she was rushed away. Tears streamed down my face. She couldn't be gone. For the first time, I had felt accepted. Welcomed. All because of her.

Hang on, Mrs. Murphy.  

Sorry if it's a bit long. Please edit/criticize! Thanks! 

Here is a story I started with a prompt: to write a short story starting with "I walked across the bridge and..."

I'm not done; it's only about 3/4 done. Sorry, it's not 500, it's 800.

Here is what i have so far:

**************************

I walked
across the bridge and took a deep breath, inhaling the chilly, crisp air tinged
with the fragrance of pine trees, letting it flow through my lungs and into my
veins, stimulating my body with a raw, solid strength.  How refreshing, how natural it felt compared to the hot, stuffy atmosphere of the
tavern.  The silence was a relief too,
and I let it engulf me like a wave, one built of lack of sound instead of
water.

It was a
beautiful time of year.  Most of the
villagers didn’t take the time to notice it—they were too busy trying to get
through the winter and bundle up against the cold.  But I had always strangely resistant to the cold,
so I didn’t have to worry about freezing to death as I gazed at the winter wonderland
around me.

Glistening
white snow covered the ground and trees like a blanket.  The sun was still out, a soft yellow light
that peeked through the clouds and the needles of the abundant pine trees.  There was not a creature to be seen, but
somewhere in the distance, I could hear a bird singing.  I smiled as Grandmother’s words came to me.  Sometimes
it’s the things that aren’t seen that are the most beautiful and the most
important.

I walked a
little deeper into the forest until I came to my tree.  At a first glance, one would think it no
different than any other pine tree, with its dark green needles and tall, thin
trunk that resembled cracked parchment paper.  One would not consider it to be out of the
ordinary, but I knew better.  I had
noticed a few years ago that the tree never cast a shadow, even when everything
around it did.  Also, when I stepped
underneath it in the summer, the air grew significantly cooler.  Now, during winter, the place beneath the tree
was warmer.  It was almost as if the tree
adjusts to my needs, like it cared for me.

When I was
little, I used to believe it was because of magic.  Maybe that was because I was young and
foolish, or maybe it was because Ma had just died and Pa’s rages had become
especially intense.

I shuddered
at the memory. Pa was never a strong man, but after Ma was lost to violet
fever, he seemed to break inside. Suddenly all the traits I had admired about
him disappeared, and the traits I did not appreciate became more prominent. He
would constantly stay up late at the tavern. Sometimes he
would fly into rages, sending me scrambling out of the house. It was also not
uncommon to find him crying by himself in his room. He was still like this of
course, but lately the rages have been less frequent, and I’ve gotten used to
them. They no longer upset me like they used to. Still, it was good to get away
from him. It was good to be alone with nature.

I took a
step towards my tree then paused mid-step, my foot frozen in the air as I
quickly surveyed the area. Once I was sure nobody was watching, I put my foot
down and embraced my tree, squeezing it as tight as I could.  Hoping to seek comfort, I tried to pretend
that the tree was Ma, but since she died so long ago, I found that I couldn’t
picture her face. Instead, I imagined that I was hugging Grandmother and
pressing myself into her ancient, wrinkled, yet sturdy arms as she ran her thin
fingers through my long hair.

Unexpected
tears sprang to my eyes as tender memories of spending time with Grandmother
washed over me. The unfairness of my childhood suddenly hit me harder than a powerful
punch.

Why did my
mother have to die? Why did I have to be left in the care of my pathetic
drunkard of a father? Why did Grandmother, the only person in my world that
loved me, have to disappear into the woods one day and never come back? Why did
my situation have to get so desperate that I ended up hugging trees?

“Ugh!” I
screamed, slamming my fist into the tree as my anger and frustration was
released from within me like a hurricane. My hand immediately exploded with
pain.

I slumped
down, my hand throbbing, my back scraping against the course bark, my face
buried in my hands. I began to sob, my hot, salty tears running down my face. As
much as I tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from my throat,
the tears falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping.

Someone, something, anyone, please
just send me a sign, I
prayed. A sign to prove me wrong that all
is lost.

***********************

There. It's not the best, but that's the point of putting stuff on here. Thanks, guys! 

Woah. Crazy good. That's all I have to say about you story, Owlgirl.

Okay. So I wrote Part 1 of the Mrs. Murphy story about a week ago, and I decided I'm going to finish it. So... 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days after he accident, I went to see Mrs. Murphy in the hospital. She had had a heart attack, which had lead to congestive heart failure. That meant that her heart couldn't pump enough blood to meet her needs. She would most likely live, but her lifestyle would have to change drastically.

When I stepped into her room, one of my classmates, Jason, was already sitting by her bed. She was surrounded by a pile of cards, flowers, and balloons. My mother pushed me inside, and left. No! I thought. This was supposed to be a private visit. I couldn't tell her what I needed to with Jason there.

I pulled up a chair and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Jason. When he saw me, his lips curved up on one side, causing dimples to appear in his cheeks. When he saw Mrs. Murphy, though, he frowned. Her skin was a sickly color, and a breathing tube was attached to her face. Her eyes were closed, and her bright red hair had faded to a dull pink. I held her handed tightly as I set a simple card on her nightstand.

We didn't talk at all, whch was fine by me. I just needed to be near her. Jason's fingers never stopped moving: something he did when he was nervous. I was on edge, too. What if she never comes back to school? I wondered. I didn't even notice when Jason left.

Eventually, a nurse came in to give Mrs. Murphy medication and snapped me out of my trance. After the nurse left, I realized that it was the chance to tell her what I had been needing to all year.

"Mrs. Murphy," I began. Her eyes fluttered open and looked straight at me. "I need to tell you thank you."

She looked confused, so I continued. "For the first time ever, you made me feel welcome. When I was in your class, I could be myself, I felt worthy of others' affection. I felt wanted." I paused, and before I could lose my courage, I said, "I made a friend, Mrs. Murphy. I got three A's on the same report card. I've almost completely stopped having anxiety attacks."

I stopped, not sure if I could finish. "You have to come back," I blurted out. "You've helped me too much to leave now. I don't... I don' know-" I burst into tears before I could finish. She squeezed my hand.

"I'm coming back, Jamie. I'll always be there for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Really long again. Sorry 

@BumbleBuddy-

Haha, I don't know if I could teach you how to write. I can't even write that well myself! I think though, if you look back a few pages, Scylla gave some writing tips. That might help you.