Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
Exercising Creativity (& Vocal Prompters)
All of our skills are like muscles – we have to keep working them in order to keep them. I recently found some of the work I wrote in high school, and I've got to tell you, it took me on a bit of a trip. The works were all just first, second, or third chapters. I didn't often get much farther than that, at least not documented. I used to be a Wattpad writer, and spent even my middle school years writing half-assed novels that I thought were brilliant. I remember taking notebooks with me everywhere, writing things down and creating all the time. Camping trips were my favorite places for inspiration. Now? Things are a bit different.
The Bird Nest
Downy tufts puff out, Warmth inside a house of hair, Drowsiness abounds. A/N: I sometimes imagine what it would be like to sleep in a bird nest, provided I can be bird-sized in the fantasy of course. I think it would be cosy! More longer stories to come! -TWW
ThatWriterWomanPublished 2 days ago in PoetsThe Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
Frank EnglishPublished 4 days ago in FictionLines in the Flesh
You lay your head on my chest I run my fingers through your hair You know it's my favorite thing to do I feel your body relax and it feels as if you melt into me
Mercedes ChavezPublished 4 days ago in PoetsTwilight Stillness
I like the darkness It is soothing Calm Quiet A few lampposts illuminate the empty street Outside my window There is peace
P.A. WilkinsonPublished 4 days ago in PoetsIgnis
Prometheus' pain Was your original cost How cheap you are now ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
D. J. ReddallPublished 25 days ago in PoetsSitting in DNA Soup
I am sitting in “DNA soup”- actually, a Jacuzzi at the Melia Hotel in Nassau, Bahamas. It might as well be a soup though, from the amount of people sitting in it. I’d wager that if you were to take a ladle from that hot tub and send it to a DNA testing facility, you’d have genetics from every corner of the planet.
Kelley SteadPublished 7 days ago in WanderMama’s Boy
I’ve been a fiancé for four years and three months. We’ve been together for six and a half years total, and we have a two-month-old son together. I can’t help but think that we’ll never get married. We haven’t even decided on a wedding date. When I bring it up, he tries to escape the room as if he’s late for something more important.
Real PoeticPublished 3 days ago in ChaptersThe Ugliest Building
Mark Twain called the building I work in, “The ugliest building in America.” I agree. The Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building isn’t the largest in Washington, D.C., but its imposing façade makes it feel like it is. I work for the Office of E-Government and Information Technology. I have a satellite office in the bowels of this monstrosity. Working in this building gives us quick access to both the President and Vice-President because they also have offices here. This access may be why I’m in this situation, or maybe it’s the project I’m assigned to, or both.
Mark GagnonPublished 5 days ago in FictionSimplicity is as Elegant as it is Brilliant
Simplicity will carry the day. Leo Tolstoy said that there is no greatness where there is no simplicity, goodness, or truth.
Rene VolpiPublished 4 days ago in JournalPROMPTED: #4
PROMPTED: INTRODUCTION There are now three Prompted Writer's Challenges in the books. Overall, I would consider the series to be a success, but the participation has slowed down. Hopefully, this one will generate some enthusiasm. I am excited to see what the entries will hold!
Randy BakerPublished 24 days ago in Writers"Strangely Art" Prompt challenge!
Vocal has been sending me some payments for my top stories, reads, likes, tips, etc., and I value giving back to my community. So, I had an idea!
The Light They Steal From You
I hate that you’re happy Your happiness bites me like a tooth to the cheek It’s not that I’m jealous, although I am a little
Simon GeorgePublished 4 days ago in PoetsA Thousand Blue Butterflies
If a picture is worth a thousand words What do a thousand blue butterflies weigh Before one of them notices the birds Signalling the others, ’tis time to sway
Patrick M. OhanaPublished 6 days ago in PoetsShe loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
Christy MunsonPublished 5 days ago in FictionThinking (this Morning) of the Hound of Heaven
There is a spot in Niagara Falls, the Horseshoe Falls Enveloped always in thunderous roar, the sound of Creation, I think
Paul MerkleyPublished 5 days ago in PoetsIs it luck or is it fate?
If someone passes an exam, is it luck or is it fate? What about if you saw someone trip over a rock, is it luck or is it fate? What determines if something is luck or simply just fate? There is no clear cut answer but let's just have some fun shall we?
Amethyst
Struggled life and death kind eyes hands words gifted so loyally wading
Holden AtencioPublished 5 days ago in PoetsWhy Just Write Is The Best Advice You Don’t Listen To
Before the last 6 months, I hadn’t written anything that wasn’t for my job or university for a number of years. I wanted to write more, I used to write all the time just for fun. I used to write poems and short stories that were just for me. I used to show them to certain members of my family but it was the process of writing them that I really enjoyed.
Michael NaylorPublished 6 days ago in MotivationForbidden Fruit
Forever suspended while you dance on my lips. Opening our mouths Removing the stem. Begging to be consumed, crafted into a knot.
Olivia MacbethPublished 8 days ago in Poets