Writing SI of

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Writing SI of

Writing SI of sorts 

So I had this strange idea. You know how we have a lot of SIs? Well, what if we have another SI, only people try to guess who it is based on the writing style?

Like, I'd provide an example of my writing and you guys try to guess my identity based on it. As for what to put in the 'name' field, anything goes— from 'Author-San' to 'Angst Ink' to ':)' like me.

Here is my excerpt. It's from one of my stories, Nightingale.


He’s content, most of the time. Sometimes he feels that he must be missing something, that long ago his life left him behind in this dusty shop with nothing but the wood shavings for company. But he can’t guess where it might have gone, so he stays with his carvings and his paintbrushes and forgets what might have been. Live in the moment, as Nana would say, but it’s been a long time since he’s talked to her, or to any of his relatives. They all moved on once it became clear that he was never going to do big things with his life, never going to be the great hero they all expected him to be. Obviously, his destiny is to stay here in his tiny shop with the afternoon sunlight and the cobwebs and the wood shavings while life, and everything else, forgets about him.


He's not sad—he’s got no desire to travel abroad, or any farther than the local drugstore for that matter—but he can’t say he’s happy either, and he’s stopped wanting to be. He has his paints and his woods and that’s enough.


He can’t remember when he started carving. Probably around the time Geo, his best friend, moved away. Lonely and depressed, he’d turned to what he remembered most throughout his childhood: wood.


He never became a lumberjack like his dad, but the wood still called to him. He remembers the first time he set a knife to it, how his eyes saw the shape before he’d chiseled away the excess. That’s how he always sees it: finding the shape within the wood, and bringing it out.


And then he discovered painting, and his carvings came alive. His brush discovered the varying russets of a fox’s tail; the black gleam of a fish’s eye. And eventually, he started selling them: rented a dirty shop that no one wanted; covered the floor with sawdust and no one cared.

People buy his carvings, praise him for his work, but he can’t help wondering how they see him. The strange, quiet woodworker, doesn’t talk much, maybe is a little off in the head but hey, at least he makes pretty sculptures. He’s been here for what, three years now? Everyone knows him, but no one knows who he really is. Probably no one ever will. 



© 2023 by... go ahead and guess :)

Hope you enjoyed! 

submitted by :), age ?
(May 17, 2023 - 1:15 am)

I sincerely loved your story. Are you Sliver Crystal or Amethyst? Maybe Poinsetta or Peri?

Better to Believe


Below decks on her father’s small fishing ship, Samantha woke with a start. In her swinging hammock, she listened to rain pounding the decks above, and the snores of her best friend, Liam, and her own brother, Julius. They had shared this small room for three long weeks, and the strain was showing. They were all unkempt and argumentative, as well as bored out of their heads. Samantha wished they had never begged to come, and with them taking up one of the fish storing rooms for their not so personal space, less fish than usual were being carried home.  The room itself used to be filled with barrels of fish, and the strong smell lingered in the air. A small porthole near Liam’s sleeping figure let in hardly any light, but in the hammock next to Liam, she could just make out her younger brother’s eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He noticed her watching him and sat up slightly, saying quietly, “I heard it again, Sam.”

Julius, or Jul, as Liam called him, had been hearing a soft hissing sound, along with a musical wailing noise, and the rough scraping of scales on the ship. But nobody else could hear it, and everybody but Samantha scorned him for it, though the sibling’s father did so politely. Julius had always been different, quiet, and always seeing things that people missed. Or in this case, hearing things.

“How close?” she murmured back.

“So very near,” he replied. “It seemed to vibrate the very ship with its magical song.” 

Samantha swung out of her hammock and ruffled her short hair. She had slept in her clothes tonight, and only grabbed her jacket and life belt before opening the door.

“Coming?” she asked her brother. 

He nodded and rose, thumping Liam with a pillow as he did so, not that it made anything happen. Liam could sleep through Godzilla attacking a city of screaming people. 

“Lazy, that’s what you are,” said Julius loudly, before grabbing his own life belt heading to the door held open by Samantha. 

Above deck, the wind was blowing against the ship, and the rain was pouring down harder than ever. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and an arch of lightning bit the sky a ways off.

“Sammy, Jules,” their father was beside them in a moment. “Why are you two out in this foul weather?”

“We wanted to see what was happening out here,” said Julius. “And I heard the noise


“Of course you did,” their father said, not unkindly. “Oh, and can you go wake Liam? We need his help.” He indicated the four other men, who made the rest of the crew, besides the man who was steering.

Julius dipped his head in acceptance, a habit of his, and returned below decks. Samantha stayed on the deck, gripping the rail tightly, for the sea was growing rougher by the second. As a wave of nausea swept over her, she leaned over the side of the rail, and stared at the black water, waves heaving the ship this way and that, spraying her face with salty water. A shape, like a snake, but much, much bigger, slid shadow like through the water. It took a few moments to realize she was staring at something that wasn’t the ship’s own broken shadow.

Samantha opened her mouth to scream, but all she could do was gasp when she heard something. It was a song, unlike any she had heard before. It was a song of hope, and determination, but sadness and loss were woven into it as well. There were no words, but Samantha could understand every bit of it. The music only lasted several frantic heartbeats, but it seemed to last an eternity, and echoed on long after, intertwined with a soft hiss. Somebody touched her shoulder, and she spun around to come face to face with Liam.

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving her a curious look. “I called you four times. I know it is loud out here, but you didn’t even twitch.”

“I-I, it was-” Samantha struggled for words.

“You heard it,” said Julius, who was beside Liam. It was no question, and a simple statement, but it confirmed what Samantha had suspected. 

“Yes,” she breathed, and the wind snatched away that simple word.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh no, not you too. I saw you staring at something in the water. Probably a sea serpent, and maybe his cousin the loch ness.” 

Shaking his head, he went to help pull the sails down. 

“He can be like that,” Julius said, staggering right up to the rail to peer in the dark sea. “But we know better.”

A sudden, huge wave came up and soaked everyone aboard, not that they weren’t already wet.

“Sam! Jul! Below deck!” Liam called to them. “You father says so-” 

Another wave splashed them all, and the two siblings ran jerkaly over the wet boards, and then the biggest wave of all struck the ship. In that moment, many things happened. Thunder crashed, lightning lit the sky, the song shook the air and then Samantha and Julius were thrown head over heels off the ship. They hit the water together, but soon lost sight of each other as they tried to swim. Under water, Samantha kicked off her shoes as she swam toward the surface. Her face broke the top, and she got a gulp of air before a wave forced her back under. 

Holding her breath, she opened her eyes to the salty, cold, green tinted water. A jet of bubbles escaped her mouth. Though her eyesight was blurry beneath the water, she saw her brother, his arms wrapped around a horn of a giant serpent. It looked midnight blue in color, with golden horns and a long and elegant snout. Its eyes were a brilliant purple, and its gills and underbelly were a soft lilac color. Swimming through the water toward her brother, she grasps the other horn. The serpent breaks the surface and they gratefully fill their lungs with air. Through the lashing rain, Samantha can see the ship, looking like a toy in a wild lake. The sea creature cuts through the waves and when it reaches the ship, stops beside the wooden craft.

“It-it helped us,” Samantha splutters.

He helped us, Sam. He,” said Julius, utterly unfazed and calm. 

The serpent lowered his head to the deck, and the two siblings dropped down. 

Looking around, Samantha sees the crew, including Liam and her father, staring at the magnificent creature in amazement. Then the serpent dives into the water. A moment later, the boat gave a jerk, then the serpent resurfaced at the front of the ship, the anchor in his mouth. And with a tug that sent everyone who had been standing to the floor, the serpent headed east, away from the storm and toward home.


~The End


submitted by Samantha, age Not found
(May 17, 2023 - 7:14 pm)

Wow, that was an awesome story!

I am none of the ones you guessed. Are you Silver Crystal or Poinsetta?

submitted by :) TOP, age ??
(May 18, 2023 - 1:21 am)

(I know it's doubtful since those are the ones you guessed...unless you were tricking me xD)

submitted by :)
(May 18, 2023 - 1:22 am)

Intresting idea. Add me in!

This is a possible introduction to one of my writing projects: 

A Ticket to the Stars

The tiny train station wasn't the most eye-catching building in the town. But then again, no one here ever needed to travel. They were happy and content with their homely two-story houses, dusty library and their battered but faithfuly stocked general store.  And of course, no one ever seemed to mind that they were living in the middle of nowhere, a lone island of houses drifting in the vast expanses of sparse forest without a city in sight, or that absolutely nothing intresting happened here.

That alone was infuriating, Eric decided, kicking a small pebble onto the dust-covered tracks a few feet below, where it landed with a equally small thunk. The red-headed boy stared at the rock for a few moments and turned to lean on the cool wall of the station. He looked up at the darkening sky, boredom written all over his face. Dusk was falling already, he noted. Time always sped by when one was stuck forever in nowhere. 

The station had always been Eric's favorite haunt. It was abandoned and silent, and he liked places like that. It meant he could stare down the unused train tracks for as long as he liked, fantasizing about hearing the distant rumble of a engine without anyone to interrupt, and plan possible escape routes free of interruptions. He was sick of being stuck here, having run out of things to do ever since he had turned 14. It was enough to drive one mad.

A gentle fluttering of paper derailed Eric's ruminations. His first thought was his notebook, with its loose, flapping pages of maps and charts. He glanced at it with worry, in case some might have come loose of the spine. The blue notebook was still. 

The fluttering returned, and this time Eric caught something scuttle in the corner of his eye. It was a little slip of paper. He pounced on it out of plain instinct, without even thinking why he would want to see a slip of paper of unknown orgin.

It was a grubby, yellowed piece of paper, looking fit to crumble in his grip as Eric picked it up from the stone floor of the station. He squinted at it. By the fading sunset, Eric saw that it was a train ticket, the ink on it smudged, faded and illegible in its own perfect way.

Then the ink began to change, wobbling and crawling on the paper into actual readable words.

Class STND    Ticket type ANYTIME S

Start date RIGHT NOW   Number 08945





Date printed TODAY

Before Eric could even process what he was seeing, he heard a rumble. And then a louder one. And then a steady roar, growing louder by the second until the very station began to shudder with the racket. Eric watched, eyes wide as a huge, glossy black locomotive hurtled into the the station, a single large white light on its engine throwing blinding rays ahead of it. He had barely caught sight of a golden insignia on the hub before the engine had raced ahead, allowing the carriages to dock. Eric covered his ears as they screeched to a piercing halt, steam puffing out of the engine's funnel in heavy white clouds. It brought with it a surprisingly refreshing scent of what smelled like a mixture pf sea-spray and mountain dew, one that Eric couldn't help breath in with greedy breaths, relishing the stimulation of his long inactive senses.

With a gentle creak, a door on the first carriage opened, and a handsome young man leaned out, dressed in a spiffy conductor's uniform, his pair of unnatural golden eyes sparkling in the sunset. He threw a curious glance at Eric, who had taken a few startled steps back, shrugged, and cleared his throat. 

"Tickets, please."

submitted by The Station Master
(May 18, 2023 - 7:54 am)

Hey Ho! I am not any of those CBers. @:) are you Rora or Scuttles?

@ The Station Master let's see. Are you Peri or Artemis? And btw I love love your story. It would make a good book if complete! :D 

submitted by Samantha
(May 18, 2023 - 2:21 pm)

Oh gosh thanks for the compliment, Samantha! I don't get those often :D

I'm not Artemis or Peri however, but I'm glad that you could guess these names. Are you Scuttles?

And @:), I think you might be Jaybells... Right?

submitted by The Station Master
(May 19, 2023 - 8:32 am)

That is quite a shame that you don't get those compliments very often. You should! your work is amazing. Are you Sine or Darkvine? 

submitted by Samantha
(May 19, 2023 - 5:12 pm)

*dies from happiness*

Words cannot express how this made my day...

And nope, I'm not Sine or Darkvine. Are you Seadragon? It does fit with the theme of your story.

submitted by The Station Master
(May 20, 2023 - 7:17 am)

I am not Seadragon! Are you? or... *takes a deep breath*

Hex? Wildsong? Jaybells? Hawkstar? Reuby Moonnight? Tsuki? Darkling? Writing? Amarillas? (did I spell that right?) Suki? Lupine? Amethyst? Ummm... Sterling? Tenney? 

Thats enough for now. 

submitted by Samantha
(May 20, 2023 - 2:35 pm)

I am not Jaybells.

submitted by :)
(May 20, 2023 - 3:57 pm)

This isn't my best work, but here's a little story I started writing a while back:

Solar stood on the edge of ice. He stared off into the frost covered landscape beyond. Nearby, a fox leaped playful in and out of the snow, hunting rabbits.


He wondered what it was like over there. Cold, he supposed. He was so temped to reach his hand across the line of snow and rock. Maybe he should, just to feel cold. Nobody was here, nobody would know. Fingers trembling, he reached. And someone grabbed his other arm.


“Solar!” a shrill, panicked voice cried. Solar whirled around, guilt flooding through him like lava. Aunt Ember was there, scowling furiously at him. Her cloud of bright red hair puffed around her head and her yellow eyes glittered dangerously. “What do you think you were doing?!” She snapped, hands on her hips.


“I….I’m really sorry, Aunt Ember. I won’t do it again,” Solar stammered.


“Won’t do what again?” Ember demanded.


Solar winced. “I won’t go to the border alone. I won’t try to reach through. I won’t…..” He hesitated, trying to figure out what to say next. Aunt Ember scoffed and dragged him away from the border.


Solar twisted to look over his shoulder as his aunt stomped determinedly forward. Out in the snow, something moved. Someone was watching him. A girl with frosty white hair and pale, icy skin. Her blue eyes met Solar’s yellow ones, then she turned and bolted away, hair flying like a sheet of mist behind her. Solar turned away, wondering if she had been watching him the whole time.


“Does Mother know what I was doing?” Solar asked nervously.


“No,” Aunt Ember said. Her voice grew hot and fierce. “And I won’t tell her if you never do that again.”


“I won’t.” Solar said. He was lying. He hated lying, but he couldn't forget about that girl watching him. He had to find out more about her. He had so many questions. What was it like on the other side? Where did that girl live? What did she eat? What was her life like? Solar wondered about the girl the whole way back home.


Overhead, the volcano rumbled and belched smoke. Lava rivers ran down the sides, steaming and bubbling. Houses were built into the black stone of the volcano. Children splashed though the lava, scooped it in their palms, and tossed it at each other playfully.


Aunt Ember took Solar around to the side of her house, the one with stone window boxes filled with fire-blossoms. Once there, she instructed Solar to get into the small lava pool beside their house and clean off the icy contamination off. Solar didn't think a little bit of tiny frost flakes would hurt anyone, but he did as he was told, feeling guilty.


Once he was soaked through, they went into the house. Aunt Ember draped a woolen, fireproof towel over Solar’s shoulders and he wrapped it tightly around himself. The house was empty of life, apart from the Sparka named Magma, sleeping on the windowsill, Aunt Ember’s beloved pet.


Aunt Blaze and Solar’s mom were out. Solar’s dad was gone. He’d been a very strict, uptight man, but kind too. He’d died out in the cold wastes of The Ice Domain, fighting in the ongoing war. The ice people always threw bodies over the border to get them out of their land. That’s how they had found him.


After that, Solar’s mother had shut down and grew silent. She moved them to live with her sister, Aunt Ember and her wife, Aunt Blaze. Their house was way bigger than Solar’s old one and even though more people lived in this house, it felt emptier. 


submitted by Wolf
(May 20, 2023 - 4:01 pm)

And I am none of the others guessed... are either of you Jaybells?

submitted by :)
(May 20, 2023 - 4:12 pm)

@Samantha: Are you Jaybells, Hex, or Hawkstar?

@:): Are you Sinusoidal, Writing, or Sterling?


An excerpt of a story I wrote is below.

People start coming in and I observe several mundane things before I remember Jade’s meal. I carefully make my way across the ledge, climb down the ladder, and go across the room full of people talking. I spot Elena, who is talking to people. Then I notice a table where the lady in the houndstooth jacket (again!), a couple of people wearing guards’ uniforms, and someone who must be the Governor herself are sitting. I turn my attention to the Governor, who has a reddish-brown bob of hair and is wearing a suit and high heels. She’s talking animatedly to the houndstooth person; the guards are not.
“Your school seems very lovely, Marzana,” she says.
“Thank you, your highness,” says Marzana-of-the-houndstooth-jacket.
“Now, where are the bathrooms?” asks the Governor.
“Out of the room, down the hall, and to the left,” says the houndstooth-jacket person—maybe the headmistress?
One of the Governor’s guards, but not the other, follows her. This intrigues me very, very deeply. Why take one, not two or zero? They’re also both male-looking, so there’s no we’re-all-having-a-party-in-the-toilets possibility. I keep my eyes trained on them in the crowd.
“Hello, Catriona,” says Marzana.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Are you enjoying the evening?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Very well,” says Marzana, who I realize like me has been avoiding eye contact this whole time. She very carefully and slowly does now, nods, and looks away again. Then I set off following the Governor and her guard. They go out of the proper door, but bypass the toilets and go around the corridor to where it curves before entering the entrance hall.
“Now then,” says the Governor in a hushed voice. I reach up and adjust the strap of my dress. “The code to the Project Magpie computer is 8765. I expect you to familiarize yourself with all materials therein before Tuesday.”
“Yes, your highness,” says the guard.
“Thank you, Griffin,” says the Governor. I adjust the strap of my dress again—the first placement was better after all—and walk back quickly before they can spot me, attempting to control my pace so that it doesn’t look like I’m very obviously fleeing the scene. Then I go get Jade’s food, order some nut loaf for myself, deliver Jade’s meal, and sit down at one of the café tables and eat. After that I go back to my curtain and make more mundane observations, but no matter. I have a golden recording stored on my sound recorder, its remote button itching my shoulder.
A few hours later I change, take off the dress again with the help of Jade, lay my recorder on my desk, and fall asleep.

submitted by ???
(May 20, 2023 - 7:57 pm)

To everyone who has asked, no I am not Jaybells.

And @Samantha, no I am not any of those people who undoubtedly must write wonderful stories, but good guesses. I don't think I'll survive any longer than three rounds now...

submitted by The Station Master
(May 20, 2023 - 11:27 pm)

Ah well. I have been guessed. BUT! new awesome stories to read!

@Wolf are you Darkvine?

@??? are you Hex or Wildsong or Rainbow?

@The staition master! Just cannot guess you! Are you Rainbow? Echo? Opalsantdragon? Moonwatcher? 

submitted by Samantha/Hawkstar
(May 21, 2023 - 12:51 pm)