Anyone here write?

And feel confident sharing it with us? Not homo fan fiction or your gay livejournal, but real stories. I'm having a hard time finding decent short stories online.

i'll post something when i get home from work

>>2
If you post something, I'll post some of mine, I guess.

OP, you faggot, if you request, why not post some of yours? Incase you don't write yourself, post us something you really like byt someone else. Come on, contribute to your own thread, god damn it.

I do, but I am not neatly confident to post.

I write short stories and post them on /b/, lol.

>>5
fapfapfapfapfapfap

i write, ill share www.freewebs.com/winglessdemon. have fun

yeah i write too, sometimes, but it's in dutch so i guess noone here can read it. bleh.

>>4
you can just ctrl+v them into here, we won't know who you are so being ashamed is unneccessary.

Eventually I realized that I was lost. The trees around me were unfamiliar, the ground beneath my feet was not the path I'd become accustomed to, but unmolested grass and weed. I looked around, realizing that I had no idea which way I had come from, nor which way to go. I'd walked through these woods more times than I could remember, and couldn't think of any place that could fit the area I was in now.

I tried to locate some evidence of my own footprints, but found nothing. Unnerved, I began walking in the direction that I was fairly sure I'd come from, taking care to step stray roots, branches and rocks. Had it been this difficult coming here? I plodded onward, with no company but the sound of the wind, drifting through branches and over bushes, sounding almost like singing as I went deeper and deeper with no sign of anything halfway familiar. If anything, the plants were becoming exotic and obscure, too wild to have survived so close to a city, seeming to have flourished to the tune of the song-like wind...

No--that was not a song like wind, but actual singing. The realization shook me from the daze that I'd been walking in. Where was it coming from? Over there--it seemed lighter, and I could swear that I saw a glimpse of water, a pool of some sort. The logical part of my mind protested the thought, reminding me that there was no pool anywhere in these woods. But I was hungry, and desperate for some sort of proof that the forest did indeed end, that there was another human being within a hundred miles of me. I closed myself off from rational thought, and entered the clearing.

She stood there before me, hair like fire and eyes like lust, fully nude. She was sexual perfection, slender yet curved, with full lips, red like blood. It was obvious that she was wearing no makeup, that no human tool had ever so much as grazed her body. And yet her lips were redder than any I'd ever seen, not the glossy red of cosmetics but a full, flushed red. Her breasts rose from her skin gracefully, home to two nipples that were soft despite the chill in the air. Her belly curved inward slightly before giving way to her hips, which bordered the patch of red between her legs. The patch was slick with wetness.

I tried to say something, to appologize, but felt no desire to do anything but stand there, gazing at her. At some point during this, the singing had stopped. She walked towards me, and felt my hands working the buttons of my shirt. Before it was off she was on me, lips going straight for my neck, kissing it, going downward. Her tongue traced soft lines across my chest and I shivered, my legs collapsing under me. My mind was overwhelmed by her scent, her passion, processing only brief snapshots of what was happening: her pressed against me, forcing a nipple into my mouth; her mouth pressed against mine, her fingers sliding my pants away from me; her straddling me, looking down upon me, eyes black pits, hair ragged, cadaverous breasts above jutting ribs, face gaunt. Broken, jagged teeth looked down upon me in a leering grin as I climaxed, spasming as if being electrocuted. I passed out. When I awoke, she was gone.

I found my way back to town with no problem, feeling a dead tiredness in my bones. I slept for fourteen hours before awakening, feeling refreshed, more energetic than I'd been in my life. A missed call waited for me on the phone: an ex-flame, interested in having dinner with me soon. I called her back immediately, suggesting that we dine at the Caldera before taking a walk somewhere. Somewhere quiet, where we could be alone.

Perhaps the forest.

keep going

I want to be a writer, a novelist, I'm sure I can do well as one. I really don't know how to start. How do I get published? Should I just self publish my writings?

I'm required to write at least 4 short stories or poems that are at least a page long each every week for a class. It's a bit of a bitch, but fun when I have inspiration.

>>9
whoa whoa. do you have more?

Heres an idea I've been toying with for awhile.

The Heir approached the lake, his eyes fixed on the glowing hand thrusting a sword from its center. His face was filled with wonder, something stirring in his gaze-as though an older man, a warrior looked out from them, at his lost blade.

Damn kid didn't even hear me before my bullet tore from one side of his skull to the other-dead in an instant.

Stepping from the shadows of the trees bordering the lake, I sighed, kneeling down to check and make sure the Heir was dead. Poor kid. Not his fault he had the rotten luck of being a direct descendent of Arthur. Ahh well-I was paid more than enough to shut my concious up.

Standing back up, I flipped out my phone to report the kill. Before I could dial, though, I spotted the Lady. She had surfaced, barely...her head above the water, her eyes fixed on my with a burning, hate-filled gaze. I just smirked-she couldn't leave the waters she lived in. With a mocking wink at her, I turned, leaving the body where it was-it would be taken care of. The last thing the my employers wanted was the return of Arthur...

Holmes was probably a closet fag, too

[ Not the op ]

The mines are a terrible, suffocating place.
 
There are no winds. There is no sky. Water is a luxury ill-suited for quenching throats, while light is treated as an expensive commodity only those with time and patience on their side can afford.

Each tunnel stretches; coils and reaches out and out and down like fingertips, or like veins working through the brown flesh of the Mother Earth, crisscrossing and intersecting in many directions so that her insides resembled a labyrinth, its ancient corridors as dark and oblique as the night sky was wide.

Sounds came in fragments, or echoes. A call for help could reverberate for hours, run, run, running down through the cracks of the earth as if it were rainwater leading away from a drowning man, somehow both fetid and obscene. There was no sun, but heat still rolled off from every surface, smothering those it caressed while they struggled to work, their sweat and the dirt they exhumed intermixing in a new kind of surety that only the darkness could comprehend.

Zossy The Directory, submit your links free.

http://www.zossy.com/

hows this a for a start?

The summer’s breeze has changed to an arctic draft the last few weeks, and it’s already time for me to hide in the depths of my winter clothes.  With feet dangling haphazardly over the water, I sit awkwardly on the edge of the worn wood of ancient dock.  The sweet stench of the day’s deep fried specials has finally diminished from the salty air and, in the distance; I can hear the faintness of the gulls nestling in for the night.
A handful of cargo ships dirty the horizon, and playfully bob back and forth until I can’t see even a break in the water.  It’s quiet now.  And for a moment I realize how little I know of the place I’ve been coming to my whole life.   Tonight the sea shines like a million constellations in the depths beneath my feet. 
I feel small; minute even.   The way the tide crashes against the pillars below me…it’s humbling. Maybe I was just naïve, but I now notice the way my hair gives way to the wind, the way I cringe with goose bumps each time my toes graze the water.  For the first time I feel like I am nothing.  Is this normal? Is this how we all feel? I don’t like it.  I need to change this. 
Up until this very moment, I have lived for nothing.  I was but a worker bee in a small coastal hive.  The horizon’s midnight reflection seems to be beckoning me to make a change.  The thick air is somehow pushing me out to sea.  I know I need to try something new.  I’ll dive under and make memories in this eerie world, for tonight is a new beginning to my life….