| The One Million Stories Creative Writing Project One Million Stories... One Million Dreams... Published in a single series... |
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This is a friendly creative space
run by, for and with writers. We
are here to attract and showcase
the best writing in the English
Language from across the globe.
The writers we publish seek to
re-write the world in their own
imagination, and attempt to
either make sense of the ridiculous
or render the prosaic insane.
Either way, we hope the stories we
publish capture what you are
thinking and feeling.
So stay a while and read a tale or
two. You can join in too. It's easy.
Tell us what you think or send us
your short story. 50-5000 words.
We all have a story to
tell and we will do our
best to help your story
reach as many people
as possible!
- Each annual volume
will present 20+ of
the best stories - There are no limits to
the genre of a story - There are no limits to
the imagination - There are limits to
word count: from 50
to 5000 - There are limits to
propriety, profanity
& plagiarism - Submit your story
now! - Every story will be
read, not every story
will be published
Simply submit your own
original story to us. No less
than 50 & no more than
5000 words. If accepted you
will be notified by e-mail.
Welcome to the One Million Stories Creative Writing Project.
First things first! Congratulations to our Lead Editor, Megan
Kellow-Bingham, on the birth of her son Tom at the end of June! We
wish Megan, her husband Simon and their two daughters, Maya and
Jemima, all the very best.
Secondly, we have been inundated with stories over the last five or six
weeks so apologies to anyone still awaiting a reply to their
submission. We will reply to everyone, we do read every story that is
sent in, however, with our Lead Editor currently out of action you
may have to bear with us a little longer...
Even so, we have been able to update the site with seven excellent
new stories. We have writing about volcanoes, modern art, high
school grades, spacemen, djembe drummers, the desire for a
McDonalds 'meal' and relationships...in the end it's all about
relationships...
We are very pleased to be able to bring you Ed Wood's excellent
"Glitch" which crams so much into its brief span it will leave you
craving more from this author...
John Rachel takes us to the start of what could be a great love story in
his "APOCALYPSO"...
Niki takes us inside the growing pains of a relationship as it moves
on to the next level, through "Compromise" to partnership...
While Abi Wyatt shines a light on the fading embers of marriage and
mind in "Jam Tomorrow"...
Muhammad Ashfaq is back with a bang with his story "The Entrails",
a story that affirms the greatest modern enemy of our time is
poverty...
While Joe Miller's "Conspicuous Gallantry" will leave you wondering
whether the UK/USA knows what it is fighting in Afghanistan...
Overall, this month's selection feels remarkably current, with even
our serial time traveller JF Chavoor writing recent history with his
story "Begging Season"...
Whatever next month brings we're certain it will continue to be as
thrilling...
West Virginia Writers, Inc have held their Conference 2010 and we
have heard some very positive feedback from Deborah Crim who tells
us this year's conference went very well indeed. Book your ticket for
next year!
Keep Reading! Keep Writing!
All the best,
Simon Million
First things first! Congratulations to our Lead Editor, Megan
Kellow-Bingham, on the birth of her son Tom at the end of June! We
wish Megan, her husband Simon and their two daughters, Maya and
Jemima, all the very best.
Secondly, we have been inundated with stories over the last five or six
weeks so apologies to anyone still awaiting a reply to their
submission. We will reply to everyone, we do read every story that is
sent in, however, with our Lead Editor currently out of action you
may have to bear with us a little longer...
Even so, we have been able to update the site with seven excellent
new stories. We have writing about volcanoes, modern art, high
school grades, spacemen, djembe drummers, the desire for a
McDonalds 'meal' and relationships...in the end it's all about
relationships...
We are very pleased to be able to bring you Ed Wood's excellent
"Glitch" which crams so much into its brief span it will leave you
craving more from this author...
John Rachel takes us to the start of what could be a great love story in
his "APOCALYPSO"...
Niki takes us inside the growing pains of a relationship as it moves
on to the next level, through "Compromise" to partnership...
While Abi Wyatt shines a light on the fading embers of marriage and
mind in "Jam Tomorrow"...
Muhammad Ashfaq is back with a bang with his story "The Entrails",
a story that affirms the greatest modern enemy of our time is
poverty...
While Joe Miller's "Conspicuous Gallantry" will leave you wondering
whether the UK/USA knows what it is fighting in Afghanistan...
Overall, this month's selection feels remarkably current, with even
our serial time traveller JF Chavoor writing recent history with his
story "Begging Season"...
Whatever next month brings we're certain it will continue to be as
thrilling...
West Virginia Writers, Inc have held their Conference 2010 and we
have heard some very positive feedback from Deborah Crim who tells
us this year's conference went very well indeed. Book your ticket for
next year!
Keep Reading! Keep Writing!
All the best,
Simon Million
| CHECK OUT OUR LATEST STORIES |
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| Join In! |
| Everything You're Told Is True by Diran Adebayo. "He is happy, that instant, to at least have rescued something from the last hours' wreckage; to know something now quite definitely at his relatively young age. If you are to be the King of Writing, Dizzy, you must be the King of Wisdom first." |
| We have been very pleased to receive support for the short story from many quarters, but we are particularly proud that the award winning writer Diran Adebayo has been kind enough to let us share his story in a million with you. For those that have yet to discover Diran's work let us shed some light! Diran Adebayo has an enviable cache of awards. His first novel "Some Kind of Black" was not only long-listed for the Booker Prize but was also awarded a Betty Trask Award, Author's Club's Best First Novel Award, and he was crowned Writer's Guild Best New Writer of 1996. He followed this success with "My Once Upon a Time" and is currently working on a new novel, "The Ballad of Dizzy and Miss P". He is a member of the National Council of the Arts Council of England, and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. This story first appeared in The Times newspaper in 2006 and appears by kind permission of the author. |
| At the Sharp End you can find a Murder, Egyptian Syrup a Wallet and a Sea Change! Not to mention the Democrats, Joey, Gerald and all... The Sharp End. As sleep retreats before the certainty of another presence, you turn on the light and, showing off, to your obvious delight, Church Bells, as I kneel upon the bed; my eye meets his, |
| Find what you're looking for with our custom built, workshop tuned, competition ready, Google Search Engine today! |
CHECK OUT OUR TOP STORIES From 2009 |
John Rachel invites you to join Billy and Candy as they check
out the latest spiritual phenomenon to hit the Big Apple...
APOCALYPSO
The entire audience - there must have been over two thousand
people crowded into the building - stopped talking, stopped
moving, stopped breathing. The only sounds that could be heard
were those bleeding through the walls from the street.
After about a minute, Apocalypso raised his hands heavenwards as
if to invite the approval of invisible onlooking deities. He then
lowered his arms and let them hang at his side. With an impish
grin, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled broadly showing the full
splendor of his white even teeth, then walked off the stage as
calmly as he had come on only minutes before.
The crowd went wild, the drummers again started pounding away,
and the party to celebrate the coming spiritual revolution was
underway again.
Click here to read the full text.
out the latest spiritual phenomenon to hit the Big Apple...
APOCALYPSO
The entire audience - there must have been over two thousand
people crowded into the building - stopped talking, stopped
moving, stopped breathing. The only sounds that could be heard
were those bleeding through the walls from the street.
After about a minute, Apocalypso raised his hands heavenwards as
if to invite the approval of invisible onlooking deities. He then
lowered his arms and let them hang at his side. With an impish
grin, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled broadly showing the full
splendor of his white even teeth, then walked off the stage as
calmly as he had come on only minutes before.
The crowd went wild, the drummers again started pounding away,
and the party to celebrate the coming spiritual revolution was
underway again.
Click here to read the full text.
Custom Search
Abi Wyatt reminds us that with jam, sometimes you have to
look beyond the label...
Jam Tomorrow
‘How have you been feeling since we met last time?’ He generally
starts off like that. I think he thinks it eases me into it. ‘How is Mr
Frost? Busy in the garden, I expect.’
He will insist on dragging Clive into it. It’s the one thing that irritates
me about our little chats. I don’t go there to talk about Clive. It’s got
nothing whatsoever to do with him. Clive is never in the house when
they come. They come to see me.
‘Mr Frost has been out a lot. I’ve hardly had reason to speak to him.’ I
snapped a bit so that he would know not to mention Clive again. I had
my handbag on my knee so I rummaged around pretending to look for
a tissue. Dr Rahoud soon got the hint.
Click on this link to read the full text.
look beyond the label...
Jam Tomorrow
‘How have you been feeling since we met last time?’ He generally
starts off like that. I think he thinks it eases me into it. ‘How is Mr
Frost? Busy in the garden, I expect.’
He will insist on dragging Clive into it. It’s the one thing that irritates
me about our little chats. I don’t go there to talk about Clive. It’s got
nothing whatsoever to do with him. Clive is never in the house when
they come. They come to see me.
‘Mr Frost has been out a lot. I’ve hardly had reason to speak to him.’ I
snapped a bit so that he would know not to mention Clive again. I had
my handbag on my knee so I rummaged around pretending to look for
a tissue. Dr Rahoud soon got the hint.
Click on this link to read the full text.
The main Terms and Conditions of submissions to the One Million Stories Creative Writing Project are set out on our main Submit Your Story page. They are there so we can make sure that everyone understands
that the Project is set up as a safe place for authors to present their work in order to reach a wider readership. We want writers to be happy here. (Awww) The Project is run by writers and very voracious readers excited
by the potential for creativity that the form begets. And you might even see one or two of ours on here from time to time too.
that the Project is set up as a safe place for authors to present their work in order to reach a wider readership. We want writers to be happy here. (Awww) The Project is run by writers and very voracious readers excited
by the potential for creativity that the form begets. And you might even see one or two of ours on here from time to time too.
The One Million
Stories Creative
Writing Project
No Bull
PURE BEEF!!!
By, for & with writers...
Stories Creative
Writing Project
No Bull
PURE BEEF!!!
By, for & with writers...
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| We have updated our Links page with some great places to visit for imaginative fiction and non-fiction! |
| Search the Site... |
'Welcome to the inaugural volume of the One Million Stories
Creative Writing Project. Here begins a journey into the
recorded dreamings, imaginings, obsessions, attitudes,
celebrations, preoccupations, journeys and reminiscences of
people from all over the English-speaking world. It is a
celebration of the short story form. It is a festival of the
tremendous diversity of people and the stories that they have
to tell.'
Creative Writing Project. Here begins a journey into the
recorded dreamings, imaginings, obsessions, attitudes,
celebrations, preoccupations, journeys and reminiscences of
people from all over the English-speaking world. It is a
celebration of the short story form. It is a festival of the
tremendous diversity of people and the stories that they have
to tell.'
Ed Wood, what a great story this is, it has stayed with us for
ages, now its your turn to enjoy it...
Glitch
She cleared her throat: ‘Look, it can’t be helped. Don’t worry.’ She
spoke without any emotion, without any inflection at all. ‘Perhaps
you should have come last week.’
‘You told me not to; you told me everything was okay.’
‘I lied.’ The phone went dead.
Richard continued to hold the mobile to his ear, unable to believe
or accept that the conversation had ended in such a way. Highly
emotional confrontation often left him on the verge of tears but
this time he just felt numb. The phone on his desk rang and he
picked it up, dropping the mobile into his shirt pocket. ‘Richard
Fisher.’
Click here to read the full text
ages, now its your turn to enjoy it...
Glitch
She cleared her throat: ‘Look, it can’t be helped. Don’t worry.’ She
spoke without any emotion, without any inflection at all. ‘Perhaps
you should have come last week.’
‘You told me not to; you told me everything was okay.’
‘I lied.’ The phone went dead.
Richard continued to hold the mobile to his ear, unable to believe
or accept that the conversation had ended in such a way. Highly
emotional confrontation often left him on the verge of tears but
this time he just felt numb. The phone on his desk rang and he
picked it up, dropping the mobile into his shirt pocket. ‘Richard
Fisher.’
Click here to read the full text
| Jack Chavoor, author of the Glendale piece Casey and the Bat, had two of his short stories selected for the One Million Creative Stories Writing Project 2009 Anthology. The book features stories submitted from all over the English-speaking world. Sunroom Desk, A Glendale, California Outlook |
Follow Virginia Moffatt's soldier as he leads us on
an expedition into deepest 'Civvie Street' where
nothing is as safe as it seems...
Strike Up The Band
I see him every morning, when I step out of the house to
get the milk. Every morning at seven o’clock. Sometimes
it’s ten past, I don’t always get out of bed on time these
days. Every day he smiles, “Good morning,” before
taking his head off with his bare hands, whilst behind
him the fiery sun explodes through the clouds. His mouth
is open in, laughter? Rage? I’m never quite sure. He
does it long enough to know I have seen him, the
neckless head, the headless neck. Then he places it back,
says “I’m feeling light headed today,” or some other
smart-alec remark and walks away. It is no use trying to
trick him, to stay in bed, to refuse to go out. If I don’t
make it to the door, he enters the house, does his little
turn and leaves me to face up to the day ahead.
Click here to read the full text
an expedition into deepest 'Civvie Street' where
nothing is as safe as it seems...
Strike Up The Band
I see him every morning, when I step out of the house to
get the milk. Every morning at seven o’clock. Sometimes
it’s ten past, I don’t always get out of bed on time these
days. Every day he smiles, “Good morning,” before
taking his head off with his bare hands, whilst behind
him the fiery sun explodes through the clouds. His mouth
is open in, laughter? Rage? I’m never quite sure. He
does it long enough to know I have seen him, the
neckless head, the headless neck. Then he places it back,
says “I’m feeling light headed today,” or some other
smart-alec remark and walks away. It is no use trying to
trick him, to stay in bed, to refuse to go out. If I don’t
make it to the door, he enters the house, does his little
turn and leaves me to face up to the day ahead.
Click here to read the full text
| Send us your story today! Surprise us! Surprise yourself! |
Niki takes us through the growing pains that help build a
relationship by tackling the C word...
Compromise
She climbs into their bed in her work clothes, and he follows with a
fresh mug of tea for her (she hates tea, but he insists it’s healthy).
He opens his mouth to say something about taking a shower, but
then she crumbles and her shoulders shake slightly, and he holds
her and kisses her hair.
They don’t say anything for a while, and she feels so immature for
crying like this.
The tea is cold, and she feels slightly guilty, so she turns to him
and asks if he could read her a passage from the book he’s reading.
He grins, it’s a boring book about philosophy and struggle, and
while she doesn’t understand why a smart, handsome man with a
trendy upscale apartment would care about things such as the
intellectual struggle of mankind, his voice is soothing when he
reads and she loves seeing his eyebrow tighten up when he
concentrates, so she listens until she falls asleep.
Click here to read the full text
relationship by tackling the C word...
Compromise
She climbs into their bed in her work clothes, and he follows with a
fresh mug of tea for her (she hates tea, but he insists it’s healthy).
He opens his mouth to say something about taking a shower, but
then she crumbles and her shoulders shake slightly, and he holds
her and kisses her hair.
They don’t say anything for a while, and she feels so immature for
crying like this.
The tea is cold, and she feels slightly guilty, so she turns to him
and asks if he could read her a passage from the book he’s reading.
He grins, it’s a boring book about philosophy and struggle, and
while she doesn’t understand why a smart, handsome man with a
trendy upscale apartment would care about things such as the
intellectual struggle of mankind, his voice is soothing when he
reads and she loves seeing his eyebrow tighten up when he
concentrates, so she listens until she falls asleep.
Click here to read the full text
J F Chavoor can't wait for the school year to end in...
Begging Season
Tina laughed louder.
“No. I don’t know what her problem is. She’s high or something.”
It was a small class and most of them clustered in the middle of the room
but Gloria and her three compatriots took the last four seats in the back
row. There they established their own kingdom, where almost any
behavior was acceptable, especially if it was either a minimalist version
or a complete boycott of whatever the day’s activities might be. There
was much to do: texting behind gigantic purses; catalog browsing;
makeup adjustments; and plain old note writing.
Click here to read the full text
Begging Season
Tina laughed louder.
“No. I don’t know what her problem is. She’s high or something.”
It was a small class and most of them clustered in the middle of the room
but Gloria and her three compatriots took the last four seats in the back
row. There they established their own kingdom, where almost any
behavior was acceptable, especially if it was either a minimalist version
or a complete boycott of whatever the day’s activities might be. There
was much to do: texting behind gigantic purses; catalog browsing;
makeup adjustments; and plain old note writing.
Click here to read the full text
Muhammad Ashfaq makes the case that poverty is
the most potent enemy of all of us...
The Entrails
In leisure hours, it was his favorite pastime to stand up the
bridge and observe trucks, cars, carts, and pedestrians
cross the Ravi bridge. He had a keen eye, and he would love
watching vultures hovering in clear blue skies over the
river. These vultures had gathered slowly as the rich people
crossing the bridge in their expensive vehicles would throw
them meat as charity and means to protect their bounties.
Looking at the starved and stunted children of his
under-the-bridge neighbors, he would seriously question
the commonsense of these vulture-feeding people. Many a
times he wished he were a vulture, too.
Thinking it was inconvenient for the rich people to go and
get meat only for this purpose, he happened to innovate a
new profitable profession for himself. In the morning, he
went to the near-by meat shop, and collected all the
entrails thrown out of the shop in a polythene bag, stood on
the Ravi bridge, and sold them.
Click here to read the full text
the most potent enemy of all of us...
The Entrails
In leisure hours, it was his favorite pastime to stand up the
bridge and observe trucks, cars, carts, and pedestrians
cross the Ravi bridge. He had a keen eye, and he would love
watching vultures hovering in clear blue skies over the
river. These vultures had gathered slowly as the rich people
crossing the bridge in their expensive vehicles would throw
them meat as charity and means to protect their bounties.
Looking at the starved and stunted children of his
under-the-bridge neighbors, he would seriously question
the commonsense of these vulture-feeding people. Many a
times he wished he were a vulture, too.
Thinking it was inconvenient for the rich people to go and
get meat only for this purpose, he happened to innovate a
new profitable profession for himself. In the morning, he
went to the near-by meat shop, and collected all the
entrails thrown out of the shop in a polythene bag, stood on
the Ravi bridge, and sold them.
Click here to read the full text
Having read Joe Miller's tale one wonders what the
'coalition' is fighting out there in Afghanistan...
Conspicuous Gallantry
Maybe he was on some kind of spiritual kick. Only he knew, or
whatever god he might be petitioning.
What I did know was that he remained a potentially lethal
specimen of humanity. Explosives, guns and all the other
paraphernalia of his type of specialist soldier were just extensions
of function to him. There were no armaments in evidence but that
didn’t mean a damned thing. For all I knew he’d rigged this
wretched little cottage to thermally combust at the twitch of an
eyebrow, turning it into little more than a smear on this remote
Scottish hillside, and him and me with it.
So I waited. Best not to rush these things.
Click here to read the full text
'coalition' is fighting out there in Afghanistan...
Conspicuous Gallantry
Maybe he was on some kind of spiritual kick. Only he knew, or
whatever god he might be petitioning.
What I did know was that he remained a potentially lethal
specimen of humanity. Explosives, guns and all the other
paraphernalia of his type of specialist soldier were just extensions
of function to him. There were no armaments in evidence but that
didn’t mean a damned thing. For all I knew he’d rigged this
wretched little cottage to thermally combust at the twitch of an
eyebrow, turning it into little more than a smear on this remote
Scottish hillside, and him and me with it.
So I waited. Best not to rush these things.
Click here to read the full text
| SUMMER SALE! 15% OFF THE COVER PRICE AT LULU WITH THE COUPON CODE BEACHREAD305 (ends 15th August 2010) |
| Most Recent Reader's Comments on 'Glitch' by Ed Wood This story was enthralling I hope there is a continuation. I have read another story written by this author, again it left you wanting more. D Nicholas on 'Damnably Comfortable Lies' by Thomas Sabel I loved it! I can really relate to the pastor having had to bury a relative of similar distate. Ken Songman on 'The Iron Plank' by Muhammad Ashfaq A gripping round up of chilling rites. A. Haider |