A Game for Writers!

Hello, writer friends!

My friend and I often play a little writing game that goes something like this:

Step one: Person A finds a tiara (or similar accessory) on Etsy.
Step two: Person B writes a short story, ficlet, or bio about the person/creature who might have owned the item. The key is to write a character that embodies the aesthetic or “vibe” of the item.
Step three: Repeat, but this time Person B picks the tiara/accessory and Person A writes the story.

It’s a fun game and a helpful writing exercise! Plus, a round of this game once led me to write an entire novel, which ended up winning a national award!

I was thinking that we could play a similar game here, but with names instead of objects!

The Rules:

  1. Write a short story, ficlet, or bio about a character with the name suggested in the previous post.
  2. Some aspect of the character should be inspired by the name. This could just mean an embodiment of a personality the name evokes (for example, the name ‘[name_f]Lily[/name_f]’ might evoke images of a sweet, innocent girl) or the name could factor into the character’s backstory (maybe [name_f]Lily[/name_f]'s mother passed the time by sketching lily pads during her pregnancy). Obviously, there is no one right way to portray a name – [name_f]Lily[/name_f] might be kind and gentle to one person, but feisty and rebellious to another.
  3. After writing your story, suggest a name for the next person to write about. You can choose any name you like, but if you’re stuck, consider randomly picking from the recently-searched names that scroll across the top of the screen.
  4. Only respond to the most recent post.
  5. No NSFW content.
  6. It’s okay to repeat names as long as it’s non-consecutive – no one name should be repeated twice in a row. Also, if there are already 14 ‘Jacks,’ maybe consider a different name.
  7. Original Characters only! If the suggested name is ‘[name_f]Rose[/name_f],’ don’t write a fanfiction about [name_f]Rose[/name_f] [name_u]Tyler[/name_u]! Original Characters in pre-established fandoms are fine, but I’d recommend avoiding them.
  8. If an author asks for creative criticism, feel free to give it! However, don’t be rude or mean. We’re all just here to have fun!

Have fun writing, guys! To start the thread off, I choose the name

Aha, sounds fun I guess haha?


She looked up at me with those stormy grey eyes. I couldn’t detect any emotion, but [name_f]Isadora[/name_f] was like that. [name_f]Isadora[/name_f] was the queen of all things pure. But she was more than that. Though she was only eighteen, she was cunning, smart, beautiful. And magnificent. [name_f]Queen[/name_f] [name_f]Isadora[/name_f] was magnificent, and everyone knew it. She ruled her kingdom fair and wise, and the townspeople worshipped her.
She turns around suddenly, stalking up to one of the other bookcases in the castle library, and grazes her right palm and fingers against the surface of the books. Quickly, she picks a book, and immediately turns to a page.
I run up to her, keeping up with her pace.
She showed me a page of her book and pointed to a paragraph.
“[name_m]Jasper[/name_m],” she started. I perked up.
“What does this mean?” She asked, intrigued, a quizzical expression upon her pale face, and I was caught off-guard. Why would a queen need help from the castle librarian’s son? Especially one who had just turned eighteen but had not yet found a job?
“I- I just-” I stuttered.
“Please, just look.” And so I did.
I peered down at the paragraph she was pointing at, but it wasn’t really a paragraph. It was a poem.
I read through it. It was easy. It mentioned flowers- roses, carnations, violets- and trees- maple, willow, spruce. It flowed like melted gold, binding its way from metaphor to metaphor.
“Well, Your Highness, it’s a poem.”
“Mhm?” She expected more of an answer, I think. So I elaborated.
“It’s a poem with lots of metaphors and things like that. I think the original author had meant to express their feelings through this poem. It’s evident- the metaphors are clever and it sounds so beautiful. I think that’s what this poem means.” I finished, all out of breath.
[name_f]Queen[/name_f] [name_f]Isadora[/name_f] did something she never did, according to gossip- she smiled.
She put the book back into its place, and then turned to face me.
“Why… why-” I stuttered out, baffled, before she interrupted me, smiling wider.
“None of the right people can elaborate this poem as well you’ve just done.”

Eh, I tried. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ It was fun, though!

The next name:


I liked it, melodamn. Here goes with [name_f]Estelle[/name_f]. Pardon if it’s bad.

[name_f]Estelle[/name_f] slipped and tripped, laughing through the forest. Though, she felt not like the forest was laughing at her for slipping and tripping. By the time she got back to her grandmother’s, she’d be covered in mud. Not that she minded, but Grandma and Mom would.
Of course, Mom would only care because Grandma does and Mom cares about what Grandma thinks entirely too much, in [name_f]Estelle[/name_f]'s opinion. At only thirteen, [name_f]Estelle[/name_f] was already more perceptive than any other kid that lived in [name_f]Magnolia[/name_f], [name_f]Alabama[/name_f].
She was also apparently the only one who didn’t care about her appearance, according to her mother. “What have you done to your nice dress, Stelly?” Her mom demanded when [name_f]Estelle[/name_f] came quietly in the backdoor, her laughter gone now.
She wrinkled her nose at the nickname, “It’s from last year, anyway.”
Grandma snorted, “You care that it’s out of style, but not about getting it dirty?”
“No, I didn’t try to get it dirty,” [name_f]Estelle[/name_f] rolled her eyes, “And I don’t care about what’s in style, either.” She wouldn’t admit it at that moment, but she did want to look cute.
And, in her plain and honest opinion, she was cute (mostly). Her hair is as dark as the soil in the woods around [name_f]Magnolia[/name_f], but shines in the sun the color of a pine tree when the barks been picked off. Her eyes are a green blue, appearing green when she wears pink like she was at that moment.
“I just wish you be more like [name_f]Molly[/name_f] or [name_f]Kathy[/name_f], that’s all,” her mom continued, oblivious to the fact that [name_f]Estelle[/name_f] was no longer listening.
“Okay, Mom,” [name_f]Estelle[/name_f] clumped upstairs, brushing hair out of her face. “I’ll just be like everyone else” she muttered sarcastically to herself, “Cuz they’ll never understand anyway.”

There was my attempt. This is fun!
Next name: [name_f]Maddalena[/name_f]

Maddelena was different than the other kids her age. While they texted and posted on Facebook, she spent her time writing poetry. She was a naturally empathetic person, but she just couldn’t understand why the rest of the world lived their lives on fast-forward. Maddelena (she hated [name_f]Maddy[/name_f]) tried in vain to get her peers to stop and smell the roses. But her talents earned her a spot as a litterature teacher for at risk youth.

Next name is [name_f]Anahita[/name_f]

“[name_f]Maddalena[/name_f]?” A voice echoed in my head. Everything was dark and stuffy. The lights had been turned out except for a few rays poking through the black. I could hear shuffling nearby but the sounds seemed distant and muffled. There were a few whispers and snickers floating around but the hard surface by my right ear nearly blocked it all out. In fact I might have not even heard anything at all if it weren’t for the voice repeating my name that shook me into consciousness.
“Miss [name_u]Van[/name_u] [name_m]Buren[/name_m]?” I heard it again but still could not place where the sound was coming from. The world was beginning to appear more clearly now. I could make out faint lines in the darkness but something was still obstructing my view. It was soft and thick, almost stringy, and if it weren’t for the smell I might have identified it as grass. It smelled faintly of lavender almost like a perfume. It was a pleasant aroma and reminded me of my favorite shampoo. Wait a second…
“[name_f]Maddalena[/name_f], do you know the answer or not?” My eyes snapped open once and for all. The sounds of people whispering and laughing were less muffled. They were giggling at me.
I spit hair out of my mouth and lifted my head off the desk. The room was much brighter now and even before everything properly registered, the weight of twenty-four gazes fell on me. The heaviest of all came from my teacher, Mrs. Griffiths.
Mrs. Griffiths was intimidating enough without the Look of Death on her face. At nearly six feet tall she towered over everyone in the room, including most of the boys. She had a frizzy red mane and naturally narrowed eyes that were as grey and dull as her personality. If that wasn’t enough Mrs. Griffiths also had those small, square glasses that rested on the tip of her nose which she peered through when you were in trouble. And boy was I.
I swallowed, hard, and forced myself to look her in the eye. “C-Could you please repeat the question?”
Mrs. Griffiths sighed for so long that I thought she was going to pass out from oxygen loss. “[name_m]How[/name_m] would you describe [name_f]Russia[/name_f]'s economic situation in the 1860s?”
I racked my brain for any piece of knowledge about [name_f]Russia[/name_f] that was up there. After a few moments that began to prove useless as I reminded myself that I knew absolutely nothing about [name_f]Russia[/name_f] or its economic situation at any point in history. I had only taken this class because I needed an extra history credit to graduate and was barely keeping up a C.
“Um,” I began. “It was… bad?”
“‘It was bad’, you say?” Mrs. Griffiths asked. “Would you care to elaborate a bit?”
I fidgeted with my tie, tugging it tighter and then loosening it again. “There was a… uh… civil war?”
Mrs. Griffiths crossed her arms. “The Russian civil war occurred between 1918 and 1921, not the 1860s. That is the American civil war. This is Russian [name_m]History[/name_m], not American history. [name_f]Do[/name_f] you know the answer to my question, Miss [name_u]Van[/name_u] [name_m]Buren[/name_m]?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
Mrs. Griffiths gave a triumphant look. I turned my gaze down to the ridges in the desk.
“Next time, make sure you know the material before falling asleep in my class.”

That was fun! I actually had to do some research about Russian history, lol.
Next name: [name_m]Dax[/name_m] (m)

Oops, posted at the same time as @misslis! I’ll just write another story.

There were very few things one could say about [name_f]Anahita[/name_f] Ramalington that weren’t true for compared to the rest of the students that walked the hallways of [name_m]Miller[/name_m] High School she was pretty much perfect. It was almost cliche. [name_f]Ana[/name_f] was pretty, she was smart, she was athletic, she was nice, basically if [name_m]Jesus[/name_m] and pizza had a baby, that child would still worship [name_f]Ana[/name_f] like a goddess.
As soon as she walked into a room it was as if everything stopped because once [name_f]Anahita[/name_f] was there, nothing else in the world mattered. Child hunger- gone. Human trafficking- a thing of the past. Until she walked away, the only thing that had any relevance on [name_f]Earth[/name_f] was whatever she was doing.
Her voice was strong but sweet like a summer breeze and a heavy metal rock concert all in one. If she opened her mouth, everyone listened because whatever she had to say was probably more important than what you have to. Her dialect was smooth and melodic to the ear. When she spoke, the birds stopped singing and the bugs stopped chirping for all of them knew they couldn’t compete with her.
She was also beautiful, as I mentioned earlier. [name_f]Ana[/name_f] had long black hair that would shine even in the darkest rooms and always had an overwhelming scent of cherries. Her eyes were chocolate brown and her skin was always a perfect “I just got home from the beach” tan. We live in Arkansas, so you can imagine how uncommon that is. She had a huge smile with snow-white teeth. And while she was short, she wasn’t underweight. Not that she was chubby, of course, just that she was a healthy weight and didn’t try to be one of those [name_f]Victoria[/name_f]'s [name_f]Secret[/name_f] models with neck-thin waists. However, either [name_f]Ana[/name_f] didn’t notice or she didn’t care because it didn’t tax her confidence at all and she never showed any desire to diet.
[name_f]Ana[/name_f] was a cheerleader, the captain of the squad despite being only a junior, and honestly she was the only reason anyone went to any of the games. While the football players would probably kill me for saying this but [name_m]Miller[/name_m] High was no powerhouse in sports. Out of the fifteen years we have been open, we have three championship banners to show for it: two third place track finishes and one sixth place swimming title. It didn’t have to do with strength, no, the athletes were plenty large. They were all just dumb as a rock. Well, all except for [name_f]Anahita[/name_f] of course. I don’t think she’s ever seen a “C” in her life.
“[name_f]Honey[/name_f],” [name_f]Ana[/name_f] said through a clenched smile. I looked up from my note card. Everyone around us was staring at me. “Are you almost done?”
I smiled and added one more line, “Unless I want this speech to go on for eternity, I should probably stop listing all the reasons why [name_f]Anahita[/name_f] Ramalington is perfect but before I go on to kiss her and before we can all go eat cake I have one more thing to say,” I took a step closer to her. “I love you.”

Next name is still [name_m]Dax[/name_m]

Fun game!

“[name_m]Dax[/name_m]…? [name_m]Dax[/name_m]! It’s getting dark, mom says it’s time to come inside!”
The sound of his sister’s calls echoed up to the tree house, but [name_m]Dax[/name_m] chose to ignore her. The tree house was ancient— according to [name_m]Dax[/name_m], at least. The tree house had been here for years, long before [name_m]Dax[/name_m], or even his older sister [name_f]Vienna[/name_f] was born. It was on the property that [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s grandmother left his family after she passed away. His dad said that he and [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s uncles used to play in the tree house from sunup to sundown when they were boys, but that was a very long time ago. No child had played in this tree house for years, and it showed.
It sat perched in the looming elm tree in the backyard. [name_m]Long[/name_m] winding limbs poked through open holes in the rotting planks and through the square window on the wall opposite of the door. The nails that held the entire thing together were rusted practically into dust; they left a burnt orange residue on [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s skin and clothes if he even so much as brushed up against one.
Dad said to wait until he had pruned the tree and fixed up the tree house before playing in it. It was too dangerous, and the boards were likely to fall through if they weren’t careful. Immediately following Grandmother’s funeral, Dad had been called back to work, and there was no telling when he would be back or when the tree house would be cleaned up. Now it was just [name_m]Dax[/name_m], [name_f]Vienna[/name_f], and their mother, in a new house, in a new town with new people that [name_m]Dax[/name_m] didn’t care to know. The tree house was the perfect hiding place. So high up, [name_f]Vienna[/name_f] couldn’t boss him around. She thought she was so special now that she was thirteen. A teenager. She thought that made her an adult. Well, [name_m]Dax[/name_m] was 8, and he didn’t think she seemed all that grown up. She was still his picky, prissy older sister, and being a teenager hadn’t changed a thing about that.
The tree house was also good for making sure people aside from his sister left him alone. In spite of his mother’s encouragement to go out and try to make friends with the other kids in the neighbourhood so that he would know a few people before school started in the fall, but there weren’t any he could find. There was one boy down the street, [name_m]Silas[/name_m], but he was 4, and had a perpetual snotty nose. The snot [name_m]Dax[/name_m] could maybe overlook, but the fact remained that he was way too old to be playing with a four year old. The rest of the houses on the street were either occupied by old people or empty, so [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s choices were either to play with snot-nosed [name_m]Silas[/name_m] or [name_f]Vienna[/name_f]. [name_m]Dax[/name_m] settled on the third option and decided he was just fine with being alone.
“Mom, I can’t find him!” He heard [name_f]Vienna[/name_f] shout, her voice growing distant; the sound of the back door clicking shut soon followed. Finally, maybe they would leave him in peace for a while longer.
Getting up to peer out the door to check to see if he was truly alone now, a sharp snap rang out and before [name_m]Dax[/name_m] could react, the decayed wooden board broke beneath his weight. His stomach jumped into his chest, and his heart pounded against his chest like it was trying to get free, even after he realised he wasn’t plummeting down to the earth below the tree, and only his foot from the ankle down had broken through the board. [name_m]Dax[/name_m] let out a breathy, nervous chuckle, turning to pry his foot away from the splintered board.
Finally free, [name_m]Dax[/name_m] dusted the dry wooden splinters off of his sock and shoe. His ankle didn’t feel like it was twisted, but the wood had left several scratches all around his ankle. That was the least of [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s concern however; through the new, gaping hole in the wood, beneath the boards, something silver caught [name_m]Dax[/name_m]'s eye. It was too far back to see clearly, but whatever it was, it was glowing. Leaning down, [name_m]Dax[/name_m] stuck his arm beneath the boards and reached for the silver.


Good job, vestigesofsummer!

Steve hated her life. And her name—ugh! What kind of girl is named Steve? A girl who had a very tomboyish mother, of course. Her mother was more like a boy than a girl, and when she had a baby and found out that it wasn’t a boy, she still named the infant with a boy name.
And the worse part was: she didn’t even have a nice last name! Vesper. It sounded too mysterious, too whispery, too dark.
Steve didn’t get her mother’s logic. Didn’t mom think about how maybe her daughter wasn’t going to have the same personality? Apparently not. The problem was that Steve wasn’t a tomboy at all! She was a very feminine and girly 16 year old, and didn’t like anything that her mother used to like when she was 13. Running and sports? Nope. Climbing trees? No, Steve didn’t want to get scratches on her face and knees. Getting dirty and muddy? Definitely not! She preferred playing and designing clothes for her dolls when she was younger, playing dress-up with her friends, and now shopping and creating websites and blogs.

Steve felt bad for her mother, because Steve was just another disappointment to mom, since dad left.
Dad was always more sentimental than mother, and that’s why—thank goodness—Steve had a feminine middle name. Together, she was known as Steve Charlotta Vesper, probably the weirdest name of all time.

Fate’s final insult: Steve was leaving. Banned from earth to explore mars. It wasn’t that Steve did something bad, it was that she was drafted for mars exploration. There wasn’t enough people who wanted to go and so the government had to chose random citizens to go. She was chosen, and so she was never coming back.
She will always remember the feeling of her mother’s tears on her cheeks; one of the only times she cried since Dad left. She will always remember looking at the blue sky with the clouds looking like they were made from meringue, and telling goodbye to the picture of her father.
She gave one last hug to her mother as she climbed up the ramp. She heard her mother’s anguished scream:
“No! My baby, come back to me! Don’t leave me! I love you, I love you, I will always love you!”

Next name: Sharess (name not on Nameberry)

Sharess, ooh nice!


“The love is- THERE!” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f]'s best friend [name_u]Fran[/name_u] vaguely gestures to the other end of the high school hallway, where [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f]'s friend and crush [name_f]Tess[/name_f] kneeled by her locker, shoving her books into the compartment.
“Gahh… No, Fraaaan!” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] whined as she elbowed [name_u]Fran[/name_u], embarrassed. Yup. [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] liked [name_f]Tess[/name_f], and [name_u]Fran[/name_u] knew it.
“Aw, but [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f]!” [name_u]Fran[/name_u] coerced. “Why can’t you talk to her, at least?”
“Because [name_u]Fran[/name_u], you know my face swells up like a tomato! Whenever I talk to her at least.”
“Ugh, I guess so,” [name_u]Fran[/name_u] slumped against the lockers, in defeat.
[name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] pulled out her phone, where she read over texts from her best friend, who went to another school.
[name_u]Kennedy[/name_u]: OH MY GOSH RYN IF YOU [name_m]DON[/name_m]'T TALK TO HER TODAY I SWEAR-
[name_u]Kennedy[/name_u]: [name_m]JUST[/name_m] [name_f]DO[/name_f] IT, RYN!! [name_m]JUST[/name_m] [name_f]DO[/name_f] IT!
[name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] laughed at [name_u]Kennedy[/name_u]'s texts, slumped over the locker counter.
The next occurrence happened almost as if it were a scene in a teen sitcom.
“Hey!” [name_f]Tess[/name_f] brightly appeared beside [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f], and [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] jumped, fumbling with her phone before she dropped it onto the floor. [name_u]Fran[/name_u] jumped as well, but her school uniform sweater pocket caught onto a locker lock, and she was pulled down to the ground, rolling over in an attempt to free her sweater.
“Oh my gosh, yeah, uh, sorry!” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] quickly picked up her phone, avoiding [name_f]Tess[/name_f]'s gaze. [name_f]Tess[/name_f]'s eyes were mesmerizing to [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f]. [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] figured, that if maybe she didn’t look at [name_f]Tess[/name_f]'s eyes, maybe [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] wouldn’t blush. “Yeah, so- hi!” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] collected herself.
“[name_m]How[/name_m]'s life?” [name_f]Tess[/name_f] asked her, smiling. [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] laughed.
“Um, good? Aha?” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] awkwardly bantered.
They talked for a minute or so, both awkwardly replying to their very awkward questions and banter. But finally, [name_f]Tess[/name_f] says, “ah well! I have art club now, so… See you around?” And she takes off, into the throng of teenagers heading down the hall.
“… Bye…!” [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f] stands there in awe, amazed at the fact that 1. she hadn’t blushed the entire time, and 2. she didn’t die.
[name_u]Fran[/name_u] creeps up behind [name_f]Sharyn[/name_f], whispering into her ear. “The ship name. It’s Sharess.”

… Yikes. Well, I tried, lmao.


[name_f]Winifred[/name_f], when she was a little girl hated her name. She hated that kids, ever cruel, called her [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] the Pooh, or Pooh [name_m]Bear[/name_m], or just plain Pooh (that one as the worst).
[name_f]Winnie[/name_f] turned around to face her adorable boyfriend, mock-frowning at him. “C’mon, [name_u]Willie[/name_u], really? We’re 22, not seven.”
[name_m]William[/name_m] slung his arm around [name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s shoulder, “You just called me [name_u]Willie[/name_u], you know that, right?”
[name_f]Winnie[/name_f] rolled her eyes, “[name_f]Amanda[/name_f] thinks it’s cute, [name_u]Willie[/name_u] and [name_f]Winnie[/name_f]. As far as nicknames go, [name_u]Willie[/name_u] isn’t the worst, believe me.”
[name_m]William[/name_m] smiled sadly, remembering all the crap [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] had to go to in elementary and middle school.
The worst day, in sixth grade, [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] had come home crying because a group of boys formed a ring around her, making fun of her name and pulling on her braids. Her mom go found her that night, crying bitterly in her tree house and composing a list of new things to call herself, like [name_f]Princess[/name_f] or [name_f]Esmeralda[/name_f]. No one would tease [name_f]Esmeralda[/name_f].
[name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s mom had climbed the rickety old ladder and listened patiently as [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] explained why she wanted to be named [name_f]Esmeralda[/name_f] instead. She let put a gusty sigh as [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] finished, “I’m sorry you do not think your name is as beautiful as I do, [name_f]Winifred[/name_f].” [name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s mom was the only one who called her by her full name.
Why did you name me such a bad name?” [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] sniffed.
“[name_f]Do[/name_f] you know anything about my grandfather?” [name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s mom asked, surprising her with the change in subject.
“He was a wonderful man. Raised me, you know. I wouldn’t be who I am without him. [name_f]Do[/name_f] you know what his name was?” [name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s mom took her hand.
“His name was [name_m]Fred[/name_m].”
“Is that why . . ?”
[name_f]Winnie[/name_f]'s mom smiled again, “I hope you come to like you name, in time.”
“[name_f]Winnie[/name_f]?” [name_m]William[/name_m] waved his hand in front her face, breaking her out of her memory. “Whatcha thinking 'bout?”
“My grandfather. He made me who I am, you know,” [name_f]Winnie[/name_f] replied, pulling one of her braids back over her shoulder. “Albiet indirectly. Names make you who you are, [name_u]Willie[/name_u].”

Next name: Kaeli

“Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m]!” The children danced around their uncle with smiles cemented onto their innocent faces. They all knew that every time Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m] came around, he would bring them a special gift from his recent travels; this time it was a gift from [name_u]Egypt[/name_u].
Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m] knelt down on the foyer title flooring and pulled a golden box from his leather jacket pocket, holding it open for the children to gawk over. They ogled at the black and gold ancient necklace, never having seen something so magical. [name_m]Mathew[/name_m] reached out to touch the golden beauty but Jezabell smacked his hand, causing him to draw it back immediately.

“What if you break it, [name_u]Mat[/name_u]!” She screeched at him. Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m] laughed and pulled the delicate jewelry out if it’s secure casing, handing it to [name_m]Mathew[/name_m] with a smile. “I wouldn’t do that, Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m]. [name_u]Mat[/name_u] is very clumsy.” Jezabell insisted.
“Now, my dear,” [name_m]Dax[/name_m] stroked Jeza’s blonde head in assurance that the necklace would be fine. “I have something special for you.” [name_m]Dax[/name_m] stood up and pulled a coin from his back pocket, handing it to his niece. “This is a very ancient gold coin. One that people many, many years ago used like we use our money.” He flashed her his usual charming smile and Jezabelle smiled back though she envied the necklace her brother received. She didn’t think he deserved something of its beauty when he was known as the clumsy one.
[name_m]Mathew[/name_m] on the other hand felt obligated to take care if it, but what was it good to him? He’s only six years old, that’s one whole hand and a finger, not what he would deem responsible. “Are you like [name_u]Indiana[/name_u] [name_m]Jones[/name_m], Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m]?” [name_m]Mathew[/name_m] asked, peeling his deep blue eyes from the Egyptian masterpiece. Uncle [name_m]Dax[/name_m] stood his head and chuckled, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Sadly I am not, [name_m]Mathew[/name_m]. But that would be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?”

Sorry for just ending it, but I didn’t really know where to take that little story.
I’m fourteen and have been writing for two years so I’m not too advanced in writing but I though I would just do that for fun.

Next Name: [name_m]Elijah[/name_m]


In the depths of the Dimension Doors, an assassin sat against the cement wall, her heart pacing and her mind racing. No one would find her there; the hall was so long and never-ending. Besides, she was where no one ever dared to be.
She picked up her dignity and strength and stood up, holding the bulkheads for support. With one quick motion, she swung open the portal door in front of her, and jumped in.
She landed on hard, black pavement, the crumbs scraping at her knees. She rapidly stood up, brushing her hands against her black jeans, and looked around. She was in a market place, those around her dressed in Victorian-era clothing, but… not quite. Some dresses included mechanical counterparts, like clock gears and dark goggles. The men wore top hats in all different gloomy colours- mud brown, beige brown, black- they were all there.
Kaeli shuffled out of the ongoing crowd, aiming to maybe reach a store that sold clothing. Not that she would actually buy any clothing- she was going to steal it, like she always did. She’d done it so many times that she was used to it.
When she was behind the stalls and booths and against the store fronts, she looked up, and what she saw almost scared her to death. They were a group of people- mostly teenagers and young adults- but their gazes pierced into her skin, almost clawing out all her fears and phobias, doubts and pressure points. The leader- Kaeli could tell, by her confident stance and wary eyes- stood patiently, her brown hair in a ponytail. A smaller girl stood beside her. Though she was petite, she held a deathly stare, yet her short blonde hair made her seem childlike again.
Kaeli knew she was caught.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the leader said.
Kaeli swiped up her transportation top hat, in an attempt to swipe down an emergency portal, when a strong hand behind her caught her arm. Kaeli peered at her captor, terrified. It was a tall, teenage boy, his face grim with terror.
“Oh, you won’t be going anywhere, young girl.”

LOL I tried :3


[name_u]Dakota[/name_u] was the star of the track team. She woke up early to run before breakfast. Her sister [name_f]Carlotta[/name_f] was always trying to.make her look better, styling her shaggy brown hair, putting makeup on her, but [name_u]Dakota[/name_u] hated it. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She wore baggy jeans and worn out sneakers. She hung out with the guys, and wasn’t afraid to get dirty.


[name_f]Niamh[/name_f] had always felt like an outsider, even in her native [name_f]Ireland[/name_f].

She was quiet, thoughtful and creative, preferring her own company to those of her class mates. Her peers considered her shy and a little bit introverted. Some even called her the horse whisperer, for they were the only creatures she seemed to enjoy talking to. But as they all lived in a small village in rural [name_m]Cork[/name_m], they accepted her as part of the scenery and even admired her for the magnificent equestrian skills. She lived happily in the peaceful little existence that she was a part of.

But when she was forced to relocate to [name_f]England[/name_f] with her family, she truly felt like a fish out of water. They had moved to the industrial city of Leeds where everything seemed grey, commercialised and noisy. She missed the sweet sounds of the blackbirds chirping on her way to school, and the babbling brook that ran past their back garden. Now all she could hear were grumbling car engines, beeping horns and people hurling abuse at one another.

And what was worse was that no one seemed to be able to understand her here. The teachers would often make her repeat herself several times when answering a question because they couldn’t decipher her thick Gaelic brogue. Her classmates couldn’t get to grips with her name either.




She sighed with frustration and just nodded to whatever they had decided upon. It was better than having to constantly correct them.

“But why is it spelt so weird?” they would question, as though she had created the name and its spelling on her own accord.

“It’s Gaelic. I’m Irish” she would mumble awkwardly, trying not to look them in the eye as her cheeks flushed crimson. She wasn’t use to having this much attention and it made her uncomfortable.

[name_f]Niamh[/name_f] was a perfectly normal name in [name_f]Ireland[/name_f], but people just couldn’t get their head around it here.

Her mother and father could see that [name_f]Niamh[/name_f] was struggling with her new life here and tried everything they could to make her feel more settled. It was all to no avail.

[name_f]Niamh[/name_f] had accepted that she was doomed to live a life of misery here…well at least until she went to University. And even then she was planning on moving back to [name_f]Ireland[/name_f] so at least people could understand when she wanted to be heard.

But all that changed in the new year when she and her classmates were introduced to a new student.

“Class, we have a new student who will be joining us for the rest of the year. I’d like you all to make A…A…[name_f]Ava[/name_f]? A-O-fa? I’m sorry dear, how do you say your name?”

“Ee-fa!” the blonde girl snarled, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“[name_m]Ah[/name_m] sorry, Ee-fa. Why don’t you go and sit with Ne-am at the back there” Mrs [name_m]Upton[/name_m] suggested and herded her to her seat.

“So are you Irish too? Or did your parents just want to give you an unusual name?” [name_f]Aoife[/name_f] enquired as she removed her mac and put it on the back of her chair.

“I’m from County [name_m]Cork[/name_m]” was [name_f]Niamh[/name_f]'s simple reply.

“Really? I’m from the city!” [name_f]Aoife[/name_f] grinned, happy to already have an ally in this strange school.

After much perseverance and pestering on [name_f]Aoife[/name_f]'s behalf, the two girls struck up a conversation which eventually turned into a friendship. It just so happened that [name_f]Aoife[/name_f]'s aunt had lived in the countryside and she used to visit her every weekend to help with the horses. [name_f]Niamh[/name_f]'s knowledge of horses both excited and sated [name_f]Aoife[/name_f]. She informed [name_f]Niamh[/name_f] that there was a horse riding academy that she was looking to enrol at in the city suburbs and she would be thrilled if she would consider enrolling alongside her.

It took her a few months for [name_f]Niamh[/name_f] to fully warm up to [name_f]Aoife[/name_f] but when she did, she knew she had a friend for life. She helped her increase her confidence and social skills, and before she knew it, she had blossomed into an outgoing, self assured young lady.

But the English never did learn to pronounce her name properly!

Next: [name_f]Imogen[/name_f]

[name_f]Imogen[/name_f] dashed down the hallway. She hated being late for class. She always did what was expected of her. She always went straight home from school, she never missed her piano lessons, she always did her homework, and she was never late for class. Especially art class. Her favourite class of all.
Oh how she enjoyed spending her spare time with a pencil and sketch pad! She had a new sketch to show her teacher too! I was a portrait of her mothers face and torso, from the side as she cooked supper. [name_f]Imogen[/name_f] looked up from studying yesterday evening to see her mother glowing as she prepared last nights supper. [name_f]Imogen[/name_f], could not resist the image, so she took a study break to sketch her. She could not wait to show her teacher.
As [name_f]Imogen[/name_f] reached the door, she slowed down and quietly entered the room, slipping into the nearest empty seat, and nodding a friendly hello to [name_u]Noah[/name_u], who happened to be sitting in the next seat. [name_u]Noah[/name_u] was a good friend and had been since they were kids, but now [name_u]Noah[/name_u] had been becoming more of [name_f]Imogen[/name_f]'s high school crush. [name_f]Imogen[/name_f] brushed her dark loose curls out of her face and excitedly listed to the teacher discuss how to properly use pastels. Her excitement faded when she noticed [name_u]Noah[/name_u] passing a note to [name_f]Tasha[/name_f], the prettiest girl in school. She knew [name_u]Noah[/name_u] wanted to ask [name_f]Tasha[/name_f] to an upcoming dance, but she did not realize that he would do so, so soon. [name_f]Imogen[/name_f] was always nice to everyone, and usually was treated the same way in return, but for whatever reason [name_f]Tasha[/name_f] was never respectful or nice toward [name_f]Imogen[/name_f]. [name_f]Imogen[/name_f] did not want to loose one of her best friends to [name_f]Tasha[/name_f], especially [name_u]Noah[/name_u]. The thought depressed [name_f]Imogen[/name_f]. She felt her large dark eyes begin to water. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the lesson on pastels. It proved to be a bit difficult. Today started out to be such a promising day and in one simple minute, it was completely turned around. Some days she hated being so sensitive.


[name_f]Araminta[/name_f] had one goal in this life; to grow the best damn mint anyone had ever used or tasted. The reasoning? Her mother, who had passed suddenly in a car accident, used to tend to several herbs and vegetables in the garden. Both of them had a favorite, though; mint. It made the best teas, whether for recreational use or to heal sickness. In fact, her mother loved mint so much that she named her daughter after it. [name_f]Araminta[/name_f], or, as she was usually called, [name_f]Minnie[/name_f], didn’t mind. It was just another thing that connected her to the person she loved the most.

“[name_f]Minnie[/name_f], will you come in for dinner?” Her father called, peeking out the back door.

“Yeah, just give me a minute!” [name_f]Araminta[/name_f] replied. She picked up her tools and stashed them in the shed before pulling her special gardening gloves off and hanging them on a hook. Her mint crops were growing fantastically; she thought that she might have hit upon the perfect formula of fertilizer, watering, sunlight, and harvesting. Finally, she brushed her dirt-covered knees off as best she could before heading in to eat what her dad had cooked.


[name_f]Lilibet[/name_f] [name_m]Dawson[/name_m] waited until her daddy left the hallway and then threw the dusty old suitcase onto her bed. It was a faded suitcase that had seen better days, but it would work for her purposes. All of the belongings that [name_f]Lilibet[/name_f] needed were neatly folded and packed away. [name_m]Even[/name_m] though she’d planned for this day since forever, it was a shock to realize what she was about to do. It was really happening.

Carefully, [name_f]Lilibet[/name_f] took the suitcase off of her quilt. She gripped it by the handle. Goodness, she was tired of her home. She was not going to be her older sister [name_f]Marianne[/name_f], living with their parents until she got married off to some old bore.

[name_f]Lilibet[/name_f] walked to the other side of her bedroom and opened the rusty window. A nice summer breeze hit her in the face, blowing her auburn hair until it bounced back to her shoulders. She hitched her dress up, took a deep breath in, and climbed out of the second-story window. [name_f]Lilibet[/name_f] nested her boots and fingernails in the cracks of the brick. Only when her feet hit the earth did she turn and run.

She only looked back once.

Well, that’s what happens when you write quickly! Anyway…

[name_u]Dorian[/name_u] (male)

Alright here goes nothing: [name_u]Dorian[/name_u]
Arial[/name_u] [name_m]Black[/name_m]]"Now, miss, this won’t take very long if you just cooperate. [name_f]Remember[/name_f] no one’s in trouble here this just a routine investigation. Nothing out of the ordinary, Ma’am.”
Franklin[/name_m] Gothic Medium]“Let’s see here, um, tell us about your friend [name_u]Dorian[/name_u]. Is that right; it’s [name_u]Dorian[/name_u]?”
“Oh, yeah, but I call him [name_f]Dori[/name_f]. He’s a big ol’ teddy bear. I mean not really he does like snap people’s necks for a living but he’s a sweetie pie. He’s like really really big. I have to stand on my tippy toes to tie his ties. He hates those things it think he calls them ‘fashion nooses’ but I digress. Um, what is it you guys wanted to know?”
Franklin[/name_m] Gothic Medium]“[name_m]How[/name_m] did you two meet?”
“Oh we go way back to like two months ago. I was helping out with “Habitat for Mermanity” and I went to this little island of the coast of South [name_f]Africa[/name_f] to build stuff, as you do. He was there too for like a job, and we met in this little village with these crazy tattooed people. But then they got attacked by a neighboring tribe and everybody was stabbing like each other. But [name_f]Dori[/name_f] kept me safe and I’ve been hiding behind him ever since”
Arial[/name_u] [name_m]Black[/name_m]]“Would he ever say, violate a faerie contract?”
“No, no, no. [name_f]Dori[/name_f] isn’t like that. He may be a cold blooded, highly skilled killing machine, but he’s can’t pass up that Faen wine. If you know what I mean. [name_m]Man[/name_m], you should see him when he’s tipsy. It’s like you take a rock but when you crack it open glitter and confetti just spray out of it. He’s got like zero alcohol tolerance; I think last time we got him to wear a tutu, feel up a Minotaur, and make out with a bar-be-que sandwich.”
Arial[/name_u] [name_m]Black[/name_m]]“So, he has close ties with the fae?”
“Yeah, they’re tight. I think [name_f]Dori[/name_f] would be bored out of his mind without it. He really loves his job and all but it’s tiring. You should see his laundry, there’s like blood and or various goo on every piece of clothing he owns.”
Franklin[/name_m] Gothic Medium]“Assuming he has a Medical permit, we’re all good here. You’re free to go”
Next Name is (Drumroll): [name_f]Katie[/name_f]

[name_f]Katie[/name_f] was your average five year old. She was constantly getting into.mischief. But there was something about her that wasn’t so typical, she was telekinetic. She used this secret power for many things. She was able to.move her broccoli from her plate to her brother [name_u]Logan[/name_u]'s. She snuck the cookies from the high shelf. But one day things got out of hand. It all started when her friend [name_f]Ella[/name_f] dipped her favorite doll’s hair into a bowl of paint. She got really mad, and next thing she knew, paint went flying. [name_f]Ella[/name_f] screamed. She just thought it would look cool if the doll had purple hair.now her own brown pigtails were stiff with paint. She tried to tell someone what she had seen, but everyone thought it was just her imagination. Of course, that didn’t explain why there was paint on the ceiling

Next name is [name_f]Georgia[/name_f]

It was cold outside as I made my descent towards the sea.The air was chilly and unforgiving, the waves were crashing relentlessly against the sharp cliffs. I gasped as the freezing water touched my bare feet. I couldn’t move, couldn’t run even if I wanted to. I turned around to see the cruel and heartless face of my captor.

“I trusted you.” were the accusing words that came tumbling out of my mouth.
His eyes were fixed on mine, and I couldn’t even see a dash of pity. “That was your own fault.”

He shoved me and I fell; my face hitting a piece of glass camouflaged amongst the sand and the dark water. I tasted blood as it trickled from my cheek, but I felt no pain. The sub-zero sea made my face numb, so I didn’t know how bad I’ve been hurt. I stood up again–my hands also so cold that I couldn’t feel them. The look the man gave me was as icy as my wet body.

“You promised.” I seethed. “You promised to bring me to her. Where is she? Where’s [name_f]Georgia[/name_f]?”

I didn’t realize that I pushed him until I saw the sudden rage on his face. He raised his hand menacingly. I flinched. He could have killed me twenty times by now, or at least punched the lights out of me and left me for dead. We were in the middle of nowhere, and no one knew where I was. I couldn’t figure out what he wanted from me. I didn’t have a lot of money, and the only family I had was my big sister, who had gone missing for more than a year. The only reason that I came here was because this man promised that he knew where [name_f]Georgia[/name_f] was.

“She’s dead.” was his emotionless reply. “And I’m going to do to you just as I did to her. Watch, now! You must witness this beautiful beast before you die!”

The man stepped in front of me and called out against the unruly wind: “[name_m]Leviathan[/name_m]! Come out in all your glory! See, mighty one; see what I have brought you!”

His face was wet from the spray of the ocean, but he didn’t seem to care. His wet hair whipped against his head as he shouted. I didn’t understand what was going on. That man must be crazy, that was the only answer that made sense to me.

“Why?” I called out. He turned around. “Why do you wish to kill me? What have I done?” I shouted. The wind made my speech almost unhearable.

“[name_f]Georgia[/name_f].” was his rough reply. “[name_f]Georgia[/name_f], she ruined me. I couldn’t think–couldn’t speak around her. She was magnificent. She ruined me!” he almost looked like a madman by the way his face was distorting. “I had to get the job done. I had to kill her. I couldn’t. The [name_m]Leviathan[/name_m] hurt me for that.” he unbuttoned his shirt and I saw horrifying angry red scars.

‘Who was this [name_m]Leviathan[/name_m]?’ Was the thought going through my mind as I looked back into the sea. Suddenly, I saw a humongous dark shadow through the crashing waves, and I heard a terrifying howl that sounded almost whale-like. The beast rose out of the water, it’s huge, yellowed teeth in rows of hundreds, as it jumped towards me. My mind was paralyzed with sheer terror and I screamed while the [name_m]Leviathan[/name_m] came towards me…

Sry for possible punctuation errors! (and for the length of the story…)