Random writing thread!

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Random writing thread!

Random writing thread! 

So, you can post anything you wrote... from a little story idea jotted down in your journal to a full story to, well, anything! I'll post something after this goes up. Tell me if you guys think this is a good idea! 

submitted by WildWolf, age Wolf years, The deep, dark woods
(January 11, 2024 - 5:22 pm)


submitted by WildWolf
(January 11, 2024 - 8:45 pm)


submitted by WildWolf
(January 11, 2024 - 8:45 pm)

Topping again

submitted by WildWolf
(January 12, 2024 - 4:34 pm)

Hi! This is a good idea. Should I share the prologue for the book I'm writing?

submitted by Amity, age unknown, Somewhere
(March 9, 2024 - 9:09 am)


submitted by Hawkstar, age Purple you, Rhymes with 'Korea' :D
(March 9, 2024 - 3:03 pm)

Okay! Sorry this took so long. Here it is:

The grass was sprinkled with dew that glinted in the sunlight. Majestic trees reached incredible heights, then their branches tangled together to form a canopy over the clearing, with the leaves all different colors that combined to form gorgeous rainbow patterns. Vines twined around parts of some of the tree trunks. All along them, flowers bloomed in iridescent hues. Rosebushes were in between trees, and the roses didn't even have thorns. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

But what I didn't know then, and what I know now, was that it was a way of hiding. Hiding from what it really was, an ugly place with an ugly history, and there was more of that to come.

I looked back, where the vines and the bushes now blocked the way I had come in.

And now I was trapped there. 


submitted by Amity, age unknown, Somewhere
(March 10, 2024 - 5:46 pm)

oooh that sound so mysterious! A beautiful prison of sorts. Your writing is lovely!

submitted by Hawkstar, age Golden, Standing next to you
(March 11, 2024 - 11:04 am)

Thank you so much!

submitted by Amity, age unknown, Somewhere
(March 11, 2024 - 2:09 pm)

The first part of a short story I recently wrote:

We have all the time in the world. But that’s not a lot, considering that the world is about to end. Plan C78X was hoping to find another planet other than Earth and Mars (we used up all the resources) that could sustain life, but unfortunately, the Plan came back empty. So you can imagine that the civilians of the world weren’t too happy when the world leaders had to announce that we pretty much only have a week to live before we run out of food, water, supplies, and oxygen. 

This was our fault from the start, was it not? It was us humans who started destroying planet Earth with our carbon emissions and greenhouse gasses. It was us who ripped holes in the precious ozone layer, and it is us who will now have to deal with the result.

No plants have been found in a recent search through a barren land that was once a rainforest, drones the news reporter. Our days are numbered to only 7 days, 8 at most. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.

I sigh and swipe right, to another news station. This one pretty much drones the same despairing news: The world’s most brilliant scientists teamed up to try and create a time machine to redo all this destruction. They were unsuccessful.

I tap the news shut and plop myself back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, which is made of clear plastic so I can see the sky straight above me, which is gray and ugly like usual. The room I am in is a plastic bubble with enough oxygen for 7 days, the only amount they can spare for each person before the world runs out.

I decide to contact my friend Eɯrε, who is a genius inventor and so was called to help the world famous scientists help with their time machine and other rewriting time endeavors. I pull up her contact and wait. Finally, she answers.

“Azʁi?” Eɯrε’s voice is slightly worried. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering how your endeavors are going,” I reply. “Anything?”

Eɯrε sounds disappointed as she says, “Sorry. Nothing. All we have here is the same revelation—regret.”

I sigh. “Guess I shouldn’t be hoping. Don’t we all wish that humans did something back then to reverse the deteriorating environment? There were all the signs. But…”


“No one did anything,” Eɯrε finishes in a dejected voice. “Meanwhile, all we are doing is trying more solutions that will come to dead ends. This time, I thought of trying to create a device that will contact the past to try and alert them to do something. Anything. Just to stop this world from dying off forever.”

submitted by Moon Wolf, age lunars, A Celestial Sky
(March 11, 2024 - 5:58 pm)

This is really good! We really do need to do something

submitted by Amity , age unknown , Somewhere
(March 11, 2024 - 8:46 pm)

Thanks!!! :DD yeah we really need to do something.

submitted by Moon Wolf, age lunars, A Celestial Sky
(March 11, 2024 - 9:26 pm)

Congratulations! You found the Writing Egg! Go post "Write, write, and write some more" on the Egg Hunt thread!

submitted by The Scrambled Egg, age writing, on a notebook
(March 22, 2024 - 11:50 am)
submitted by top
(March 22, 2024 - 11:50 am)

Finally! I can randomly write things and stuff. Here's an excerpt from a story I'm trying to write:

Joy radiated about young Addah-Alin,
a Goblin girl of ten Shyrian years (675 days, 45 days in a month, fifteen months
in a year).

She was running lighthearted
through the woods and forests around her home, bathed in sunlight as her cloak
flew behind her. A sword she carried at her belt. She didn’t know why but she
always did. She supposed it made her feel safer.

Addah came to the willow tree with
much ease, though the path was a steep descent upwards against a hillside. Moss
coated the stone and ground about the trail, and roots stuck out of the earth.
Indeed, it had taken her a few hours to make her way up the hill, but after many
visits to the place she had perfected the art of hopping and scrambling and
falling up that hill.


She called it the Mosshill, or Old
Willow Rock. She sat down at the base of the tree, and sat back against it. She
listened to the sound of the stream somewhere below her, she could forget things
here, her troubles, her life.

submitted by Arlo the Necromancer, age 10, VA
(April 12, 2024 - 7:46 am)