Short Stories About Writing

Here are the top short stories, poetry, and posts about writing on Commaful.Click here to sign up for more stories about writing.

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anonAnonymously Published Stories
5 days ago
V
“I told you three was too many.” Gavin’s voice growled from outside the wagon.“Yes, yes, you are blessed with endless foresight. Please, remind me of your opinions when I’m counting our take, I’ll cut...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
5 days ago
pregnancy beginnings - dad!tom
Summary: You and Tom take on the first trimester (plus a couple weeks) of your pregnancy. -so Tom has to leave when you’re 6 weeks pregnant to go shoot for 3 months but honestly you’re glad it was sch...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
5 days ago
Dreams of Reality
Does anyone else dream where everything is perfect? Where the people we let slip from our fingers are back as if nothing ever changed? Where our lives are sterling silver and shimmering gold? Where fl...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
5 days ago
Condolence
It’s not painfulto give love awayuntil the recipientdecides to take pityDemeaning it, stripping it fromthe healing forceit sincerely carriesUnder guilt’s somber veilstern and humorlessit may be told t...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
5 days ago
Sincerely
To whom it may concern, I can’t fix the world. It requires more mending than my humble heart can manage. Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make it better. By 100worddash http://www.100worddash.c...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
2 days ago
Untitled
I need time and I need space,I wish to be alone.No room is big enough,No silence is quiet enough.I seek space,Yet the world cannot hold the amount of thoughts in my head. I ponder over time,But still ...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
2 days ago
IV (aka I got tired of thinking up good names, writing’s hard)
The wagon rattled on as the women lapsed into silence. Rhinn’s mind raced. She buried her head in her knees and attempted to push down the quickly rising panic. The chains chafed her wrists. They were...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
2 days ago
Untitled
The last years of youth are a stretch of empty time, an open white desert. plant this barenness with seeds until it flourishes. Transform it into pastoral fields, acres of roses, or cities of lightnin...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
2 days ago
Untitled
On Monday, I wondered if maybe he was punching the boy to the rhythm of the train’s syncopated beat. The boy always wore dark clothes, so I called him the crow. He was a bit of a fat crow. And on that...
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anonAnonymously Published Stories
2 days ago
Dark Road
I don’t remember when we ran out of street lamps, I just remember our headlights struggling to slice through the darkness alone. The night was dark and full of stars and the moon wasn’t set to wake fo...
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