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WriteYourHeartOut

Original Fiction Snippets

Recommended Posts

Working on an original story? Care to share a glimpse into the world you've been creating? Post here!

 

- Please try to keep all snippets under 500 words.

- This topic is not for discussing said snippets, but merely for sharing. If you're looking for feedback on your writing, please see this topic here instead.

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Okay, okay, I'll go first. This is from the first book in my fantasy trilogy, describing the main characters, who are twins.

 

In fact, there were a lot of differences between them that Roya put down to the fact that Willow ate her vegetables and Wren did not.

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From a fantasy novel that I had forgotten about. A glimpse into the main character's eyes.

 

I looked at my green dress, tracing the stitching in the long barrelled sleeves and embroidered little foxes, silver with onyx eyes. What was I now? Am I a socialite dining at royal courts? A leech? A pawn? Or was this still me sitting in this chair, with a face so familiar and a dress I could never hope to afford in my life?

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Cold, broken glass was the cause. The crimson on my hands dripped onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. A crushing pain seared from the tips of my pale fingers, to the bony shoulders I’d gotten from my mother. I cursed under my breath, dropping the sharp piece of mirror, and letting the sound it made when it hit the floor resonate in my head. I looked at what was left of my reflection.

 

You are the heir to this great line. Tradition will not be foiled by your selfish desires. You will serve this kingdom until the day you take your last breath. You are meeting your princess tomorrow, at ten o’clock. Be ready, or face the consequences.

 

Words and actions had never deterred me, until now. I brought my bloodied dominant hand to my face, and stroked my jaw, leaving a trace of ruby red liquid to dry there, only to be washed off later.

 

Some fantasy I just found!

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This is not a fantasy. It's a romance novel. I've started working on a new one (my old one lies almost finished but I need to get back to it after a break):

 

I saw him at the station, winding among hordes of unfamiliar faces and hurried feet. My eyes skimmed past him once before coming back to rest on his profile. His arms stuck to his sides as his baggy jeans hung off his frame loosely. A picture of a five-foot, ten-inch, lean young man swam to the forefront of my mind and I beamed. The sunlight softened his sparkling brown eyes behind the red-rimmed glasses. A soft, hesitant smile graced his lips as his eyes caught mine.

 

I wanted to run at him and away from him all at once.

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Here's a quote from a recently completed OF.

I double-checked the forum and archive rules for this one and decided to put it in a spoiler just in case. The story itself is Mature but this snippet may not be? (I'm sorry in advance if this breaks the rules.)

 

Spoiler

 

What should I say?

“You really don’t need to answer him.”

Abby tugged and I turned to her with a smile I mustered up past the dark depths of my heart.

“I just wanted to learn how to love myself.”

Dana slammed a fist down on the table as Alex snorted in response.

“Stop it!” She shouted at him.

I’d never seen Dana angry before. I’ve seen her talk passionately but never angry. Dana, as far as I knew her, is a person overfilled with patience. Without her, my letter to my mother would have never been realized. If not for Dana, I wouldn’t know what my depression meant to me.

 

 

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“Put it down, boy,” the bladesmith grunted. “No way can you afford anything in this shop.”

Wren scowled at him, and after a few more seconds of longingly gazing at the blade, placed it slowly back down. The bladesmith was right, of course. By the time Wren saved enough to pay for the sword he would be too old to use it. The only way Wren was likely to ever own a sword was if he found one, or if someone gave him one. Both were highly unlikely. No one trusted Wren with anything sharp.

He was examining a bow when three people entered behind him. They wore blood red cloaks, and their faces were too shadowed to see their features. Wren slowly put the bow back. In all the Remembrance Days he’d attended, he’d never seen these people before, nor did he recognize the silver emblem on their hoods. 

They were paying close attention to the swords. Tapping and stroking the flat side of the blades as they muttered to themselves, while the bladesmith eyed them nervously. 

“… could look like anything now,” one man was saying.

“It has to be here,” a woman hissed. “We’ve searched everywhere else.”

“You don’t know what it looks like,” said the third one, another man. His voice was low, each word spoken with exaggerated patience, as if he’d been repeating the same words for a long time. 

Wren backed out of the tent. Another man in the same blood red cloak was outside, only this one had his hood pulled back. He was young, perhaps a few years older than Wren, with wavy blonde hair that covered his ears. As he watched Wren, he tilted his head curiously.

“Wren, there you are!” Florian appeared beside him. “Come on, or we’ll be late for the bonfire.” He pulled at Wren’s shirt, which slipped down his shoulder.

“Alright, alright.” Wren fixed his shirt and glanced back at the man, who was now staring at him with wide eyes. Wren frowned, but turned to Florian, finally taking in his appearance. “What are you wearing?”

Florian glanced down at himself. He was in a navy blue waistcoat with gold buttons, a pure white coat around his shoulders. A sword was strapped to his waist by a sash around his chest, which he'd explained once was for ceremonial purposes only. This didn’t stop Wren from eyeing it enviously.

“My official uniform. It was my brother’s, from Across the Sea. You don’t like it?”

Wren hadn’t seen clothing that fancy in reality before; only in Willow’s books about royalty. He suppressed his laughter. “You look fine.”

Florian beamed, satisfied. “Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

As Wren went to follow, he glanced back over his shoulder, but the man was no where in sight.

From Hartwood Academy ^_^

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I had to do some editing to post this because apparently every possible snippet has extra foul language, but I'm working on writing POV change ups and honestly I think I like Daniel and Thomas better than writing in Cass's perspective.

Quote

 

Daniel parallel parked and glanced down at the manilla folder on the console between them.

“You want to take the apothecary or are you serious–” Daniel paused before he erupted into laughter.

“Care to share with the class?” Thomas asked as he took the file from Daniel’s hand, but his own laughter prevented Daniel from having to actually answer.

“Snappy Pappy’s Gas and Grocery?” he asked when he caught his breath.

“If you think that one is bad, ask me what the name of the bar is in town.” Daniel regained composure, but tears of mirth lingered.

“I’ll bite. What is it?” Thomas raised a skeptical brow.

“The Cross Eyed Cricket.” Daniel broke into laughter all over again.

“Are you kidding me? There’s a fishing place, hang on, I have it in this file–” Thomas stooped over to dig through the folders stacked on the floorboard. “–Spittin’ Cricket Bait Shop.”

 

 

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I have three different short scenes with two that are actually from before my book and one that's a dream that will only be referenced. I'm working on exploring how characters were before, because things change a lot due to the main character's PTSD and the amount of time she's been away from everyone.

None of this is fully polished, since it's just for visualizing events and stuff for characterization purposes. First one is a nightmare.

Quote

 

The smell of burning bodies and ash sears my throat as I crash through the forest, using every ounce of speed my short legs can give.

Tilas pulls me by the hand as uncle Edon leads us from the onslaught. Even so close, they're only indistinct outlines in the dense smoke. At any moment they'll drop from Riktar arrows. At any time I'll feel a hard steel blade slip through my back. But still we run, none of us daring to look back. Sweat stings my eyes. My calves burn.

I stumble over a tree root. Any control I had is replaced by primal panic as a large burning branch falls, pinning me to the forest floor. My uncle and cousin are gone. Fire flickers up my left leg. My side. My arm. I thrash and scream and claw at the hot dirt with hands that no longer belong to a child. They're scarred. Skin stained with the same crimson that painted the attacker's golden armor.

In the dark haze figures form. Men. Women. A child whose throat leaks red. Varis appears among the crowd. Smiling as the whispers begin.

Over and over they all demand the same answer. Why?

I don't know why. I want to say I didn't have a choice. I want to shout at them to leave me alone. But no coherent words form.

All I can do is lay there, helpless. Sobbing. Gasping for air as the flames reach my face and the forms circle in. I'm not a child, but I still can't save myself, and Varis only watches. Silent even as the whispers turn to screams. Expressionless as cold hands tighten around my neck.

I should have listened.

 

 


Contemplation scene in the middle of a rough time.

Quote

 

Moonlight bathes the compound’s grounds in a dim pale light. The silence of the scene only broken by the movement of an occasional small animal in the trees and the shuffle of my feet through the wood’s snow blanketed trails.

No one gives a shit if I’m out on my own. They know I won’t run. But still. I miss my city. I miss the dirty alleyways and crowded streets. The noise of a dozen languages crashing into each other in the market square. It was a messy and ugly and dangerous place. It was also unpredictable and exciting. Warm with the thousands of bodies that called it home.

This place is too ordered. Its beauty an illusion to hide something cold and empty. I would give up everything to be back with the group of thieves I loved, but even if I could escape it won’t be the same. The Riktar aren't city guards that can be bribed into looking the other way. They'll come after me. I know too much. The rest of my life would be nothing but running.

Making my way to the pond I brush off a place for myself under a willow, then sit and stare out over the frozen water. Maybe if I’m lucky I'll freeze by sunrise.

 


A cute scene from my main character and her girlfriend!

Quote

 

Ria's hand feels warm as our fingers lock together,  arms touching as we sit against the training room’s back wall. No one else is here. It’s nice. Quiet.
She smiles, a mischievous look playing in her dark eyes. “So, which of us is going to break the news? Pretty sure the guys have been placing bets on who’d be the one to propose for the last three years. Whoever tells them isn’t getting away for a while.”

"I doubt it'll only be the guys. Though they'll probably be louder about it." I put on a thoughtful expression. “We could flip a coin for it. I snatched a few of those pretty silver pieces they use in Arn from a tourist yesterday. Forgot what they're called, but they're the ones with the fancy looking flowers on them.”

“Lors?”

“Yeah. Those.”

Laughing, she leans further into my side and places her head on my shoulder. “Could do it together. At least we’d be stuck with good company."
"You still want that coin for your collection?"

“Do you really have to ask?”

 


 

Edited by Shadowkat678
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Part of a time travel romance that has been floating around my head for a while:

Quote

Andrew rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his drink, narrowly avoiding spilling it all over himself as a man pushed past him to order what looked like his sixth beer of the day. He took a step back from the bar and gave Marisol a warning look as she started eyeing another woman who walked up with her husband or boyfriend or someone on her arm. As he did, he felt his back hit someone’s shoulder and he stuck out his arm to keep his drink from spilling over from the sudden movement. He turned almost immediately, the apology already on his lips. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” The words died in his mouth as the woman he bumped into turned around. 

Her bright blue eyes had been burned into his brain for as long as he could remember. Before she even smiled, he knew that one side of her mouth was going to pull up higher than the other and he would be able to see that she only had one dimple on her left cheek. Her hair was pinned back and the light in the bar was dim, but he knew that it was as black as the ink that seemed to be smudged all over the fingers of the had that was holding her drink. “Christine,” he whispered, but in the chaos of the bar, the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s alright, the drink is fine,” she said, taking a step closer as someone else brushed by her. She stuck out her hand, a crooked smile on her face. “Tina Larsen, Beaumont Enterprise. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

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from the OF I've just submitted to the archives

Quote

Martha is the youngest O’Malley. Well, she’s not so young. Fifteen, same as me. She’s a rascal if ever there was one, and my best friend, too. I have to be well-behaved, working for the family as I do, but Martha has no such constraints. She came back late from the schoolhouse last week with her good muslin skirt basket-full of blackberries. It’s stained purple for good. Her ma gave her a scolding, and a swat besides, but Martha just laughed and said for that she wouldn’t share the pie she made.

This is the narrator introducing the love interest. 

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