WRITING|PURE FICTION

14 Days Left To Submit For February’s Fiction Challenge — Story Of My Heart

Including excerpts to get creative juices flowing and whet your appetite

JA Vassili and I would like to take a moment to say, “Thank you for joining”!

— to the many new writers who have joined Pure Fiction recently, as well as to those who have been with us from the beginning (barely 2 months ago).

Crystal A. Walker F. Leonora Solomon Misty Rae Alan Asnen Rhiannon Hopkins MN Nova Grace Krista Marson RN Mindshifts Amanda Gravely Andy Mackk J B Ferguson Caitlin Samminga Dani Banani Gianni Bawn Ellie Brooke Erica J Glenn Whitlock J. Salvatore Domino Jeofrey Ogire Kitty Whitemore Lawson Wallace Logan Silkwood Gerald Washington RGomez Shrayan Bandyopadhyay Warren Patterson Tess Obenauf Auden Wright

Running Pure Fiction and hosting this month’s writing challenge/contest has been much more interesting and fun than either of us imagined!

You still have 14 days left to enter — deadline is February 28, 2022, 11:59pm PST.

Details to enter are in the story that I have shared in the link above.

One thing I’d like to mention, again, is that even though the winners won’t be heavily judged on grammar or spelling, it will weigh in favor of the writer if there are few to no mistakes in either story (the official submission or the fiction to which she/he is referring).

Last week, I published a recap of stories, with excerpts, that had been entered into the contest so far.

I am doing the same this week.

Gerald Washington- A Writer In Progress, History Lover and Loves Apple Pie. https://medium.com/@mindmaze89/membership

My favorite part of writing this story; was coming up with the twist. The war scene wasn’t real, it was just a wild imagination that the main character had, while he was cooking hamburger patties for himself & his girlfriend. After an intense beginning & middle, I wanted to create a calm ending for the main character & his lady friend.

When I finished writing this story, I felt so proud of it. To be able to capture that creative spark, type it down on my laptop & share it with my readers is a wonderful feeling.

Crystal A. Walker- Creative writer, full-time RVer, & travel enthusiast. Cusses like a sailor because she was a sailor. Avoids conflicts & tells truth through humor when possible.

After I had a general idea of the story that I wanted to tell, I confided in my closest friends; Over drinks as usual.

They loved the idea of the story.

Pour, after pour of wine, we started to ramble off a series of ideas, thoughts, and ridiculous perversions.

The next day, I woke up sober, and my mind was reeling with a story that I could not wait to tell.

Even though Matchmakers is nearly completed (at the time of this writing), I cannot help but think of my girls. We laughed, drank, laughed some more, and drank some more. We even managed one of our husbands to blush and leave the room only to return to check on us that no one had passed out…or she at least had a blanket.

Since there were only 2 submissions this past week, I’ve decided to include an excerpt from 2 stories that were submitted to Pure Fiction this past week by a new writer.

Glenn Whitlock- Mindless office drone by day. Fantasy and horror writer by night. Twin dad | https://www.glennwhitlock.com

I take a swig from the whisky bottle next to my keyboard. I feel the amber liquid warming me as it makes its way down my throat. I set it back down next to the pistol I found a couple of days ago. It’s still a weird feeling to find something like that just lying around. I guess it doesn’t matter much now. Not like anyone’s going to hurt themselves with it. A few more keystrokes, a few more lines of code, and it’s done.

I close my eyes. Right before I fully succumb to sleep I feel something hairy brush against the skin on my leg. I startle awake and look down, but all I see is black. Claws dig into my skin as something reaches out from it and grip my leg. It pulls me towards the inky darkness of the closet that has spread to the foot of my bed like someone has doused the area in black paint. I scramble and kick, trying anything to escape this thing’s grasp. I scream for my mom and dad to help me as my hands tear at the bed sheets, struggling to find purchase. Anything to keep me from being pulled into the void. Tears are streaming down my face as I cry out once more, hoping, praying, that anyone will answer my pleas for help.

Here’s the link to last week’s story about the prior week’s submissions:

If you’d like to become a writer for Pure Fiction, respond to this story, or the following story detailing the basic requirements, with your Medium handle. (For example, “@…….”)

We’d love to have you join our movement to make fiction more fun, while sharing the joy of writing and reading fiction, growing individually and together, as writers, readers, and human beings.

Here are a couple of my fiction stories:

Become a member: