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Stories in Writers that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

An hour on the inside. Runner-Up in I Wrote This Challenge.
Defiance. It’s a word that comes pre-loaded, heavy with meaning. It’s a challenging of authority, a refusal to follow orders, and an unwillingness to be dictated to.
By Joe O’Connor9 months ago in Writers
Why TTRPGs Changed My Writing for the Better
GM: Alright, [Cleric], you cast water walk and you and your party totally circumvent the magical trap in the sewers by walking on some of the foulest-smelling water known to man. At last, you arrive at what appears to be a large alcove meant as some sort of maintenance area. The light in this area is extremely poor save for the occasional flash of blue light. Anyone who wants to, please roll me a perception check. Bard: 18. Ranger: 15. Warlock: 17. Barbarian: Nat 20, let's go! GM: Fantastic. You all hear it before you see it, a deep rhythmic thrum and the discordant squealing of cogs and machinery grinding against its operator in protest. As your eyes adjust, you notice the missing arcane device you have been searching for along with an artificer tinkering with it. It is a massive thing with brass clockwork rapidly turning rings of arcane sigils below an overheated steam engine. A disturbing pale blue light emanates from the machine with each beating thrum that coincides with the turning of the clockwork rings. In the evanescent light sweeping the room, you notice two other figures: a gruff looking man with large muscles who is cleaving close to a figure you all recognize. It is the pale elf wizard from the tea house, though beneath his trench coat you notice his hands anxiously caressing the hilts of two long elven swords. Party: *Exasperated groans and sighs of annoyance.* Cleric: Not this guy again! GM: *smiles evilly* The elf taps his foot against the sewer bricks in annoyance. "Come on, hurry up! They should be here soon!" The artificer does not look up from his work. "I'm tryin', boss. These things aren't made to purposely explode, you know." Barbarian, you rolled a nat 20 earlier. Can you roll me an investigation check please? Barbarian: Oh, I suck at these... 12? GM: That's enough, I'll give it to you. Thanks to your superb spatial awareness, you surmise that you must be somewhere below the palace in this tunnel. Barbarian: Damn, I had a feeling. Cleric: Well, that's not good. GM: The elf looks up, his right hand gripping one sword pensively. "Strange. I heard the black powder blast from the entrance grate but none of my arcane alarms have been tripped. Interesting..." Alright, we're going to keep your stealth rolls from just before this and he's going to roll another active perception... *rolls dice* The elf turns around and looks right at you. He grins a wicked smile and cocks his head as he takes a careful step forward. Party: *Collective expletives and nail biting.* GM: He begins speaking in the same sort of arrogant nonchalance as he used before. "Oh, bravo, heroes. You are certainly more skilled than I had anticipated, but as you ca-" Cleric: I cast silence over the wizard. Bard: And I cast sleep on the three of them. GM: *Blinks as he comprehends the situation. Shakes his head.* Alright, well, um, you see the elf is attempting to do some sort of menacing monologue but you do not hear a single word of it. Meanwhile, the artificer collapses amidst the machine controls and begins snoring... silently. Party: *Raucous laughter.* GM: However! The machine shows no sign of calming and the elf is silently yelling in anger. Suddenly, he grabs both swords from their sheaths as each blade becomes wreathed in greenish purple fire. Please roll initiative. -An excerpt recovered from the notes of a session of a homebrew D&D session I ran about three years ago using my own setting: Afterfall (see below). It remains one of my favorite sessions to this day.
By Ian Read9 months ago in Writers
a balancing act
When I was a kid, I couldn't decide what I wanted to be on Career Day. Most years, I ping-ponged between my options; a police officer, a doctor, a teacher. However, one year, I boldly declared to my class that I wanted to be a wildlife and/or exotic veterinarian while being an author and poet. My teacher was surprised, which didn't happen often.
By Alexandria Stanwyck9 months ago in Writers
Poetry Punches for Pennies
I never realized how many bills can pile up until I got a car. We don't even drive it that much or often since we work from home, but jeez. Bills be piling for everything lately. And when your brain is preoccupied with work, errands, and BILLS, creativity tends to suffer.
By Oneg In The Arctic9 months ago in Writers
Salt in the Wound
We don’t know what to do, so we write. That’s what we have to offer the world right now — our words, our stories, our art. And some days, it doesn’t feel like enough. Not when people are dying. Not when the news reads like a horror script on loop. But it does feel like something. A thread. A resistance. A way to stay human.
By River and Celia in Underland 10 months ago in Writers
Four Bowls of Glory
As much as Nonna’s was a place for laughter, argument, and wine, it was also a gladiatorial arena. Where only the best could triumph.
By Paul Stewart9 months ago in Writers
There's a Word For It
I have dribbled I have dabbled There've been times I gushed and babbled Sometimes even won at Scrabble, Turned the channel to avoid drivel and gabble,
By Judey Kalchik 9 months ago in Writers
Winner Announcement: New Contest For May, Featuring Your Very Own Deranged Lighthouse Keeper!
It took me a while to judge all of the lovely entries into the New Contest For May, Featuring Your Very Own Deranged Lighthouse Keeper! contest, but I've finally done it! Here's a link to that contest, for the uninitiated:
By Laura Pruett9 months ago in Writers
All Hobbits Share A Love Of Things That Grow
“Ride for ruin! Ride now!” And forth charged the riders of Rohan! Spear and horse clashed into the line of cowering orcs, stretching out all across the horizon. Glorious sunlight streamed through the breaks in the clouds; breaks ushered forth by the might and honor of men.
By Matthew J. Fromm9 months ago in Writers
What If I Were to Tell You About a Place I'd Been Published?
What if I were to say to you that I’ve been published in The Cincinnati Review? Or what if I told you that I had been published in The Yale Review? Sounds incredible, right?
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile10 months ago in Writers
Well Organized, Increase in I.Q., And Willingly Do Something Unsatisfying
Gregory Stock’s The Book Of Questions prompts — Do you consider yourself well organized? How often do you have to look for your keys?
By Denise E Lindquist10 months ago in Writers
What’s in a voice?
Voice: a writer's unique personality and style that shines through their words, making their work distinct and recognizable.
By WrittenWritRalf10 months ago in Writers