Mine just starts off with a quote from a side character:
❝The oldest war in history is the war on women, which has been documented for over five thousand years, and waged for much longer.❞
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Idk why, but when I read that, I heard a really old man with a raspy voice 
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Is my play format alright to you?
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Of course!
I didn’t know you’d started doing that. How’s it going so far?
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To be honest, decent I suppose because I am right now focusing on the chapters summaries for this story instead of actually writing the chapters itself.
However, the prologue I just showed you isn’t the prologue that I plan on keeping. I am going to write a much better one.
Anyway, I find writing in play format better for me because I can best understand the story and characters more. When I finish the story, then I shall write it all out in novel format.
It is just a first/rough draft so it is whatever to me. LOL!
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Year 1456, Romania
The wind rustled the leaves that fell in a trance to the ground. It caught onto the man’s fur robe, exposing a small knife in his leather sheath. Every step was heavy against the flower beds. Far into the distance, a moon rose from its slumber. Its light illuminated the male’s pale features; a sharp jaw, plump lips, and sunken eyes.
From Corpse Consort on my second profile.
Angela Moss had deep intricate knowledge about Tyrell’s former ex, also her trust. With slender and thin fingers, a click was heard as she opened the door to Joanna’s apartment. A quivering wind caressed her pale and oval face.
From His Devotion on the main profile.
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My current WIP is just something I’m doing for fun. Super self-indulgent. I’m just writing how I want to, and not how I think people would want me to. It’s also super unedited o.o
unnamed WIP -- cursing and stuff in here
Have you ever wished that one day, you could go back in time and right your wrongs? Maybe you could stop yourself from talking to that one person who would eventually turn out to be a mistake, or you would make sure to start working earlier so your resume built up faster—thanks for that one, capitalism.
Gods. Life was much simpler when I was a teenager—I didn’t have bills, the pandemic, or shitty neighbors in an even shittier apartment complex.
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I’m always down for procrastinating lol.
The Dark Between Dreams:
I wanted to scream.
But no matter how much I strained my lungs, only a strangled keen escaped my throat. No matter how fast I tried to run, it was like I was stuck in some thick miasma that slowed my movements—like I was stuck in a dream. Or… more like I was trapped in a nightmare.
Because monsters were hunting me.
Hollow is the Heart: it opens on a ghost rave lol
Dead people make a lot of goddamn noise.
The thundering bass of the mountains of stacked amps rocked the black, skeletal high-rises of After. I sat, perched at the edge of a wavering skyscraper, legs dangling over the side, watching the activity hundreds of stories below.
Marvela Mystic:
Grudgewood Forest wasn’t as ghastly of a place as its name implied. Yet very few people bothered to venture into the old forest anymore, and so the marvelous, mystical wonders within went undiscovered.
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I really adore this opening! Especially that first line! “to wait for midnight to wash away his day’s memories like the rain did the blood after a fight.” - this is so specific and lovely and immediately gives me expectations for awesome action later on in the story!
This is the first paragraph for my round 2 entry in the Write to Rank contest.
The woman’s face paled as she watched her son collapse to his knees. His knife skittered onto the asphalt, his chin hanging limp against his chest. With a firm shove from my boot, he slumped onto his side. The wound, the blood—all of it was hidden by the heavy shadows cast by the collapsed highway above us. If it even existed at all.
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This is the first sentence/paragraph of my WIP:
I stood on the beach, switching my gaze between the seemingly-limitless and endlessly-thrashing body of water, and all the happy beachgoers who lived their lives without me.
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Thankie 
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Ah, thanks! Then maybe I won’t change it during editing
I might be unnecessarily confused 
If the highway existed or if the wound existed or if the shadows existed?
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I want to be on the beach, too 
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from a short story for my blog
Salem kicked down the rickety door. He wasn’t qualified for an extraction and he knew that. Knew it from the hundred times the cops had told him to wait for backup, knew it from the fact he was hardly qualified to use a firearm, and knew it from the ginger hairs that stood on the back of his neck.
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From my current WIP, Beyond Reasonable Doubt. A mystery/thriller.
Memories are like bits of rope; they can be short and thin, long, and thick, or they can be just the right size. If you jumble them all up together, they become messy and create a big knot that’s so hard to untangle.
Memories are also like glitter. You spill them, create a mess, and have to clear them up afterwards. Even if the memories are pretty, the aftermath is not so pretty.
Not that I would know. My memories are missing. That’s how imagine memories are, and that’s how my short-term memories feel like, messy, short little ropes that quickly and always get tangled, no matter what I try.
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Interesting take on memories. Especially since I recently wrote a story where memories play a big role. In my story, memories give hints into the identity of the person, telling them a little about themselves and showing them how they changed for the better (or worse). But a memory can’t show everything and sometimes you remember things the wrong way.
You ever have those cases where you’re talking about a memory with someone and they say, “That’s not how it happened.”?
Then you start doubting your memory and their memory. What is the truth?
Does your character ever have to deal with potential “wrong” memories?
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In an arcane part of the Bramble Wood, where the moon hung in the sky like a big yellow eye, and the wind whistled baleful warnings through the trunks of thick oak trees, three warlocks greeted the night with a floating coffin in tow. Things, it appeared, were not going well.
Lmk what you guys think. It’s very wordy and I feel it could easily be classified as a run-on sentence, but I’m unsure of how to shorten it. Grammatically, I believe it’s correct.
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Also have been playing around with an old WIP of mine, mostly for fun. This piece is a very new concept, and still a rough draft, but I would appreciate any feedback :).
Snow crunches under heavy black boots as Elya steps outside the palace gates, gazing up into the blank white sky as she tugs on a pair of thick black leather gloves. Snow falls gently to the ground, trickling into her hair and face, melting from the warmth on her skin. The world is silent and still, as though not a world at all, but a small, padded room.
I’ve been told that when I write in third-person present tense I tend to overuse ‘ing’ words. I’m a little blind to this, haha.
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Omg I love that idea!
She does! I weirdly love the idea of playing around with false memories in fiction and the way they can impact people.
I’m weird 
lmao
omg all the time. It’s really weird how the brain can manipulate and change things, or even be the same but from a different perspective
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A strand of poetry in the midst of prose is a bit like DNA insertion. Just the brin going “why isn’t there more of this”?!
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