Story Den

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Story Den

Story Den

This is a thread in which you can write and critique short stories. There isn't a word limit. Try to keep critiques respectful and constructive, please! I hope you enjoy reading and writing things on this thread. 

★ 

Here's a little story I just wrote for no apparent reason.

The breeze whispered through the treetops, carrying the scent of vanilla. An uncommon scent, yes, but not out of place. Many animals noticed, but none said anything, for the scent signified a momentous event: the birth of a dragon. 

 

Somewhere deep in the forest, a dragoness lay curled around a large, cream-colored egg. This dragoness was the queen of the forest, and her egg was near hatching. The egg began to quake, and she watched it worriedly. What if she had done something wrong? This was her first egg. She didn't know what to expect. And suddenly the first crack appeared, releasing the gentle scent of vanilla, and her worries were silenced by the wonder of a dragon's hatching. 

 

Light flooded his eyes, after the long darkness. It was unimportant how long, he decided. He cleaved away the rest of his eggshell, entering the world of light. He saw eyes; gentle, blue eyes, looking into his. They were his mother's eyes, he knew. He shook out his scales, unfurling tiny wings for the first time, and crawled to his mother. He curled against her warm breast, closing his eyes, and retreated to the world of darkness and comfort once more.

 

The dragoness couldn't help but smile a bit, tucking her son closer to her. She breathed in his vanilla scent, commingling with her own blackberry aroma, both different but mixing together perfectly. She felt overwhelming love for her tiny dragonet, her vanilla prince.

 

Somewhere in the pine forest, a breeze carried the scent of vanilla. And all the animals felt it, and knew that a new prince had been born. 

submitted by Scylla, Writing things
(February 23, 2017 - 6:39 pm)

Ooh ooh! I've been writing a lot of Warriors fanfiction for the Amino I'm on of it, so I wanna share something here! (To any readers of the series, it's about Snowfur and Thistleclaw.)

~~

Tiny flecks of stardust scattered around the white she-cat’s paws as she made her way through the white-frosted terrain, the grass beneath her paws cool. For a second Snowfur paused and watched the sky as it sparkled with stars, an odd sadness gracing her face. Then she sighed and turned away, her shoulders drooping heavily as she padded towards an ugly black smear in the distance.

Her pale coat shining, Snowfur clambered up an incline in the StarClan territory that rose into a sharp cliff overlooking the borderline between two lands. One of them, the place where Snowfur stood, was star-dusted and warm, and though there was no sun the air was cozy. The other, however, loomed dark and rancid, its trees hanging over the swampy earth like crying cats. Snowfur stared at it, her blue eyes glistening with sadness.

“Can you hear me now, Marshall, dear?…” she murmured, her words like tiny raindrops in the silence.

As if beckoned by her lament, a feline shape stirred in the dark trees, startling Snowfur as it slunk from the shadows. Immediately she recognized the spiky grayish fur and the glowing amber eyes, and with a massive leap she sprung down from the hills and landed just in front of him, their muzzles so close she could hear his labored breathing. “Thistleclaw?” Snowfur asked quietly. The cat did nothing but stare at her, and uneasiness prickled in Snowfur’s pelt as she waited in silence. Then a tiny smirk crept over his mouth, so small Snowfur nearly missed it.

She blinked, and there were two.

One cat was nearly identical to the spirit she’d seen just seconds before. His pelt hung loose and ragged from his skin, revealing sharp bones just beneath his filthy grey-and-white fur. His eyes were racked with shadows, hollow amber slits just visible, and if he grinned it showed sharp, yellowing teeth.

However, the other was nearly the opposite, and Snowfur’s heart ached painfully as she saw the thick, bushy fur and his warm amber eyes; the neat, gray paws and his sad, proud smile. The Light Thistleclaw looked up at her, and for a moment their eyes met.

In a rush Snowfur was thrown into blissful memories, her mind soaring with the thought of them. Whitekit was curled in the crook of her stomach, his tiny pink mouth opening to mewl the most beautiful song Snowfur had ever heard. Thistleclaw was pressed against her, his nose touching her ear and whispering warm summer days and the bright calls of birds to her… for many moments Snowfur was lost in the whirl of thoughts, but with a crash it was splintered as she saw Thistleclaw drowning in his own blood near the RiverClan border, and his spirit rising to become the sneering mess that stood in front of Snowfur now.

Shaking her head as if she were clearing water, Snowfur wrenched away from Light and Dark Thistleclaw, her chest heaving with passion. “We were so happy!” she cried out suddenly, dredging up the topic that had been on her mind for as long as she’d dwelled in StarClan. “I loved you, I loved you so much it hurt! Every moment I spent with you was like dancing in the stars, like flying through the trees… so why did you destroy our happy path? Why are you in this place now?!”

Silence hung for a moment as Snowfur glared at the two Thistleclaws, her eyes burning with mixed rage and agonizing grief. Then Light Thistleclaw stepped forwards, leaning over the border just long enough to press his nose to her ear, his touch soft as a feather. “We were so happy,” he began, gazing fondly at Snowfur. “As soon as I spoke to you I knew we were destined to be mates, to live as one.” Suddenly the Dark Thistleclaw shouldered his way forwards, snarling as his tail thrashed angrily behind him.

“But I wanted to be deputy too,” he snapped, his rancid breath making Snowfur flinch. “I wanted to be leader. I wanted to be standing on the rock, watching cats scurry about my paws as I commanded them…”

“… the Place of No Stars offered to do this,” Light Thistleclaw continued, his more regretful words blending with the Dark’s. “They gave me power, they gave me ferociousness. They spread my dreams out in front of me and almost gave them life.”

“It was too late,” Dark Thistleclaw growled, his claws unsheathing into the dark earth that clotted around his paws. “By that time I was dead, and I knew exactly where I would exist now. I knew—very, very well—how I would walk without the stars.” Snowfur swung her head in confusion from Dark to Light, Light to Dark. This… this wasn’t what she had come for! This wasn’t what she wanted to hear…

“But why?” she wailed, her voice shattering the peace of StarClan. “I thought you loved me! Why, why, why—did you leave me?” At this the two Thistleclaws smiled as one, haggard dark eyes and sad, sweet eyes.

“Oh, Snowfur…” they said, their voices twining in unison to become one. “I may have left the starry path that many cats walk, but… not once, not ever, did I stop loving you.”

Snowfur looked up at the two cats who stood there, dolefully peering at her. The dark trees were towering ominously behind him but none of that mattered now… blinking through tears, Snowfur saw him turn away as the Dark and Light vanished into one cat and the tip of his tail slid back into the shadows.

She remained crouched there for a long time. Perhaps it had been hours; perhaps only seconds. All she could see was Thistleclaw’s face, all she could feel was the longing in her chest—

“Snowfur!” a voice suddenly shouted, snapping her out of her reverie. Snowfur jumped to her paws and twisted around to see another she-cat standing at the top of the hill, her bluish-gray pelt rippling in fear. “Get away from the border—what if a Dark Forest cat came along?” Snowfur paused for a second, but finally she moved to her paws, robotically walking up the hill to Bluestar’s side. Her sister stared at her with wide blue eyes, concerned, but numbly Snowfur shook her away. As the two she-cats padded away from the dark border, Snowfur whispered one last thing, one last cry of regret and pain; of sadness and happiness; of everything she had once felt and was feeling now…

“Oh, Marshall, dear…”

 

submitted by Clouded Leopard
(February 23, 2017 - 8:09 pm)

Wow, that's great! I wrote a warriors fanfic for Amino as well, but it's way too long.

submitted by Scylla
(February 24, 2017 - 10:41 am)

CL, I love it! Maybe it's just because I'm in an emotional state today, but that gave me chills.

submitted by Mei-xue (May-shreh), Fairyland
(February 24, 2017 - 4:16 pm)

This is a fanfic I did a while ago on "The Secret Garden." 

I did it while taking an IEW course; so it doesn't have any dialogue, and isn't my best, but I just wanted to share it with you guys. It's called: "A true friend."

One day while working in her secret garden, Mary heard a pitiful noise. Looking around her, she found a bruised and tortured girl hiding behind the roses. Mary quietly inquired her name and whence she came, she found the girl’s name was Rose and they happened to be the same age. Rose fled from the orphanage because she and others were cruelly mistreated. Frequently knowing how Rose felt, Mary, who once was an orphan as well, decided to help Rose. Patiently bandaging Rose’s wounds, Mary told Rose of her childhood and of her coming to Misselthwaite Manor. After Rose healed, Mary found her a job as a maid at Misselthwaite Manor through which Rose would be able to earn a living and still see Mary. 

Years later, Mary was accused of destroying all of the gardens, including the secret garden. Shocked at the accusation, Mary bravely defied she commited the crime. Mary was innocent, although many did not agree so she was ordered to her room with no food until Master Craven, who was the head of the house, decided what was to be done. Martha, Mary’s maid, diligently smuggled food to her mistress against Master Craven’s word, even though it could mean losing her job while awaiting the decision. Finally Mary’s sentence determined that she was old enough to return to the orphanage where she would have a bed and search for a job. Tearfully, Mary’s friends begged her pardon of Master Craven because they knew she was innocent. Because of his reputation, the stubborn Master Craven exclaimed that he would stick to his word and would not pardon her unless he had proof of her innocence, or someone else confessed to the committing of the crime. The next day, Mary prepared to leave Misselthwaite Manor, for no one had confessed to the crime. Mournfully stepping into bed, she wondered at her fate and cried herself to sleep.

 

Meanwhile, Rose who had heard about Mary’s unfortunate accusation, ran to tell Master Craven of what she had previously seen. The night before when going to get a drink of water, Rose spied the person who destroyed the gardens and that person was most definitely not Mary. After reaching Master Craven’s door, she hastily knocked, but to no avail. Losing patience, Rose pounded until Master Craven sleepily cracked opened the door. Eagerly whispering her tale, Rose presented her evidence of Mary’s innocence. Master Craven easily believed Rose because she had been so honest over the years. The next morn, Mary sadly packed to leave the home where her heart remained when suddenly the door opened. Master Craven walked in declaring that Mary did not have to leave, for she was pronounced innocent because of Rose’s testimony.  Mary rushed out the door after wholeheartedly thanking Master Craven to find Rose and thank her for being a true friend.  


submitted by Joan B. of Arc, age 14, Camelot
(February 24, 2017 - 2:27 pm)

This is one I did in ELA:

Prologue 

Six years ago, March 2010

I woke up in the middle of the night. There were screams downstairs. The smell of acrid smoke filled my bedroom.  The smoke was getting so thick that it was getting hard to see.

The smoke burned my throat, skin, and eyes like citric acid. The walls of the house burned like weeds set a fire. My dad opened the door to my room, picked me up, and carried me downstairs. A bunch of overly hairy men crowded our house, looting us of the treasures that made our house ours. 

My dad quickly opened the wood door, and threw me out into the freezing night. He told me stuff that no seven year old should ever hear. He told me to leave, that I was a disgrace to the family name. That he would call the cops if I ever turned up in this part of town ever again. He called me a traitor, that I had led these people to him. 

One thing thing that he said made no sense whatsoever. He said that I carried something in my from Mom’s side, and it would cause the death of him. He said that I had plagued him with my telekinetics. What in the world is telekinetics?!?

I did the only rational thing at the time. I turned around and ran as far as my feet could take me.

 

March 2016

I stifled a scream. The strange man swung the poorly lit lantern three times, and slowly the schooner appeared. The scream got caught in my throat. The ship looked like the Black Pearl, straight from Pirates of the Caribbean. I wouldn’t have been surprised if undead Captain Jack Sparrow was on the ship.

The bright lights warmed my face. It was early March, and the air coming off the East River was freezing. From where I was standing, I could see the magnificent  Empire State Building. The fog coming off the water made us look like we were something out of a nightmare. Or possibly, out of the Realm of the Dishonorable Dead, but definitely not Valhalla.

My hands were shackled behind my back with military grade handcuffs. They chafed into my skin, irritating it like crazy. I knew that I would not leave this journey unscathed. That was, in fact, if I came back. For every child my age, in Brooklyn, had been warned not to imagine. For once you do, you are at the point of no return. 

The wind howled as we stepped onto the ship. I wondered if Alex Stowe, from  The UnWanteds, had felt this way when he traveled to the Death Farm. I could only hope that there would be someone like the eccentric Mr. Today where I was going. Probably not.

As we took off from the dock, I realized that this might be my last night in busy NYC. If the stories that I had heard were true, than I was as good as a dead person.I know that life is unfair, but come on! I knew that if I made one wrong move, thenNew York would go from my city to h.e. double hockey sticks.

The wind blew my caramel colored hair into my face. At this point, I didn’t care. I was only thirteen! And the thing is,life had not been kind to me. 

My mom had died when I was very young. And as if that wasn’t enough, my dad had left me to fend for myself at age 7. I felt like Promi, from Atlantis Rising. A nimble pie-thief, who has a way with knives. The fact that I can say that is depressing.

I looked up. We were nearing the Atlantic Ocean now. Once we got out to sea, I would no longer be a thirteen year old girl. Everything I had done in my life (even if it hadn’t been a lot) would be for nothing. It didn't take an Artemis Fowl to figure that out.

The strange man shoved me towards a small wooden door. It had a sign on it that said Cargo Hold. Most likely, it was a place where they took prisoners, and kept them there until the ship reached the ocean. The book, that took me many difficulties to get, said that they only took thirteen year old children that imagined because they were the most powerful at the Magic in all ten worlds.  And I don’t mean pulling rabbits out of hats. I’m talking about telekinetics, time travel, etc. Kind of like the Fairlies from the Kingdom Keepers Disney at Dawn. Minus the fact that they’re orphans, and they get tested by military officials at Barracks 14, and are probably backing up the Overtakers, a group of notorious group of Disney villains.

Just as I was being shoved down the slimy cargo hold hatch, I saw him. Great, just what I needed! I might as well have hung myself, right then and there. Not even my luck could be that bad. 

Before I knew it, I was in a cell. My badly bruised hands were uncuffed. I was able to slip the old, sharp hunting knife out of my sleeve. I quickly loped off some of my long, straight hair. Maybe that would keep him from recognizing me.

I sat up against the rough, splintered wall. Thoughts swirled around in my head. Cass Williams, Eloise Williams, Aly Black, Jack McKinley, Marco Ramsay. They had to deal with problems worse than mine. If they could put up with the fact that they were going to die at age 14, then I could put up with with being trapped to the ship forever. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor is what they call Aly, Jack, Marco, Cass. I’m a sailor through and through.

The minutes ticked away. We must have been reaching the Atlantic, which deemed my end, when the ship stopped abruptly. There were shouts above deck. There were only two reasons that we stopped. Another pick-up or we had run aground in the shallow water. Neither option seemed good. 

The ship got quiet again. Through a small, barred window in my cell, I saw an abandoned factory that reeked of oil. The strong smell of saltwater pierced the air. We were definitely getting close to the Atlantic now. I could feel the magic of the ship ebbing into my soul. From legend, I knew that I was the first female pirate on the ship. I wondered how the other pirates would look at that. Not kindly, I presumed.

The door to the cargo hold banged open. A dark, hooded figure rushed down the stairs. It was him, again! He held a key in his hand. My dad looked up at me, warning his eyes. Apparently the hair trick didn’t work.

“Aly! You’ve got to get out of here! I’ve silenced the other by sending them down to the mess hall. They are going to indulge themselves in fish stew, but it won't take them long to figure out that they were tricked. You have approximately 21 minutes to get out of here, before you're trapped just like me,” my dad whispered, tears coming to my eyes.

When he said that he had silenced them, I thought that he had killed them. Just another example of how messed up my life is if I think that someone had committed murder by “silencing” them.

At that moment, I realized why he left. He didn’t leave, he was adult-napped (or something like that). Six years of built-up anger left my body. It quickly returned though, making me want to punch those pirates in the face. They were obnoxious jerks (kind of like Aunt Beatrice from The 39 Clues).

I nodded at my dad. As quiet as a mouse, he opened the cell door. I crept out, and the floorboards creaked. The boat rocked, making me feel queasy. Yep, definitely a Cass.

I rushed up the steps as if it was Ragnarok. Then again, if I didn’t make it off the ship, then it would be Doomsday. Lovely thoughts that you have when you walk to the prow of the ship. Then again, Doomsday could come any day now.

Then, suddenly, I stopped. I felt a warm breath on the back of my neck. It smelled strongly of rum. Don’t I ask me how I know. I just do.

Without thinking about it, I kicked the guy behind me with my heel. He groaned and immediately tossed his cookies over the side of the boat. I didn't have time to think about how gross that was. I had to get to the front boat, and quickly. If not, I would be a dead man (or girl, it really doesn’t matter).

More pirates came from the mess hall. My feet were constantly kicking them in the stomach. Some of them missed the side of the boat, and retched on my black, calf-high boots. Now that was gross.

I finally made it to the prow. The moon glowed silver on the water. The pirates came rushing behind me. My dad was bleeding and bound to the mast. All the pirates were holding large swords that they had drawn from their sheaths.

Quickly, I made sure I had the Book of the Magic. I put it into my waterproof bag, and stuck that into my jacket. Looking behind me, I tried to tell myself that this was a good idea. For some strange reason, I couldn’t. 

“Trying to escape, girl?” asked Captain Barnacle. He was the nastiest captain around, besides Captain Davy Jones. I’m pretty sure you get the reason why he’s called Captain Barnacle. His body was coated in slimy, underwater crust.

“Leave her be!” my father groaned in agony. His face was pinched in discomfort. It was obvious to see that he was in pain.

“Aly, jump!” my dad demanded. His body was racked in pain. As he trembled with fear, blood dripped ever so slowly onto the dirty floor.

My steel blue eyes met his soft brown eyes. NO NOT BLOOD SPILT! This will be the undoing of the universe, all because of me. Why on this day/night did this have to happen.

“Blood spilt will be the undoing of us all, for the Magic’s fate will be the Chosen’s fall.” I murmured in a trance. Golden light billowed from arms, lightning up the night. My hair stayed still, despite the strong wind coming in from the harbor.

“Her soul will stay in a jar sealed tight, only to be opened on the final night.” I continued, feeling exhausted. The golden light faded. Meanwhile, the Pirates were gaping at me, their eyes filled with terror. What had shaken them so badly?

“And on that night, darkness shall stay, for the end of the world happens this way.” I finished. My sight turned watery, and my legs buckled beneath me. I paused, the silver light from the moon, contrasting with the fair golden light, just shimmering off my body, like golden glitter on a black poster-board.

I paused for too long. The ugly pirates were closing in. Their braids were littered with blood, dirt, and gold. It was now or never. I took one last look at my dad. He winced and nodded in consent, a look of regret on his face. He wanted to come with me, but he knew that for my safety, he couldn’t. I took one last look at the glowing moon, held my breath, and I jumped into the freezing cold , oil black East River.

 

Epilogue 

Later that night

My head broke the surface of the water. The ship was a smudge in the distance. Even still, I could hear the vexing of the pirates on the ship, which burned my ears. No one should ever hear what they said, it was that nasty.

As I swam to shore, I wondered if I should go back and rescue my dad. I mean, he did save me and all. But if I went back, I might be captured again, and put him in even more danger.

I pulled myself out of the freezing water. As I sat upon the rocks, looking out at the ocean, I made my decision. It made my heart break into pieces.

Before I could start crying, I got up. Turning around ever so slowly, as if not to alert any strange beings in the area. And I ran, to wherever my feet would take me. But there would never be a way out of my cruel, calculating mind.                      

Also later that Night

The Professor held up a small, turquoise amulet that trapped many wicked, malicious spirits. Swinging it back and forth, making horrors arise from the Earth. The Prophecy had been spoken, and he could no longer help the Chosen One. He could only drag her down to the depths of the ocean, wring her pretty neck, and hope to drown her. Aly wouldn’t see her own pathetic, miserable death coming.

 

Sorry it's so long. 

submitted by Lindsey H., age 11, Massachusetts
(February 24, 2017 - 4:49 pm)

I like writing fictional stories about WW1.
~Daniel Abrams
We trudged through the dark forest, midnight, we were going to try and sabotage some artillery. If things went bad, we send out the pigeon, and we die from getting hit by artillery shells. Occasionally a plane would fly over and we'd all duck. Suddenly, a shot from a rifle was fired, hitting me in the chest.
Daniel Abrams, 1896-1915
~

Benjamin Fredericksburg
I raised my rifle, just like every one else, and we fired into the darkness, hearing screams from the forest. I held my lamp tightly as everyone reloaded. I looked behind me, seeing a german charging at me, ready to stab. I swung my lamp, hitting the man. The lamp broke and everything went dark.
Then it turned into a mess.
There was screaming, guns being fired, and people punching eachother. Somebody grabbed me and pinned me, punching blindly. He grabbed one of the grenades on my belt and accidentally pulled the lever off. I yelled a swear at him as the grenade exploded.
Benjamin Fredericksburg 1890-1915
~

Franklin Johnson
A grenade exploded, lighting up the area shortly, I saw the cage the pigeon was in and I rushed to it. I began writing coordinates as fast as possible, I finished the note and opened the cage, tying the note to the pigeon. I felt a sharp pain in my stoumach, somebody stabbed me with their bayonet. I let go of the pigeon and it flew off as I crumpled to the ground.
Franklin Johnson 1894-1915
~

Adam Been
I stabbed someone with my bayonet as I heard a pigeon fly off. I fired my pistol in the darkness, hitting some people. I heard the sound of something hurling at the area.
Artillery shells.
They hit the ground and exploded, tearing my limbs off.
Adam Been 1892-1915

submitted by Ahoy!, age 12, Colorado
(February 25, 2017 - 12:42 am)

Here's a short stry I wrote because...well because I wanted to.

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

As the lightning streaked across the black sky, Aleshia Parmish brushed away a few locks of her dirty-blond hair. She was thinking; thinking how she could help her little family. Maybe I could get a job in the hospital! No, She thought, you have to be really old like, 25 to work there. And anyway you need a college degree in medical services. Im defintly not going to college. Alishia thought rufully. Aleshia's family had lost their house, buisness and all their savings to a fire. A fire, Alishia thought, A fire made me not go to collige. A fire made my family suffer! "Why," She acsidently said outloud. "Why what?" The voice made Alishia jump. Alishia's sister, Cathy, was in the door frame. "Oh," she replied, "It's just you." "Just me! Thanks alot Alishia!" Cathy said in a sarcstic tone of vioce, " you still havn't answared my question." "Well," started Alishia, "I was just thinking how, how our family lost everything. Alishia burst into tears. Taking Her hand Cathy tried to sooth Alishia. With a lump forming in her throught Cathy smiled and said, "It's ok lil sis we'll get through it. By God's loving mercy we'll get through it." The rain started to stop and Alishia noticed it. Alishia said to herself, "The storm is over."

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

Thats it! 

submitted by Tuxedo kitten, Bag End
(February 25, 2017 - 2:55 pm)