The Future of Collaborative Fiction
StoryMash, the future of collaborative fiction. A creative writing community for authors, amateur writers, readers and anyone interested in collaborative fiction and collaborative creative writing.
Authors and writers hone your creative writing skills. Collaborate on new fiction stories, or branch an existing fiction story in a different direction by writing the next chapter or even a chapter into its middle!
Authors, earn money for every chapter you write and self-publish on StoryMash. StoryMash rewards your creative writing talents by sharing at least 50% of the advertisement revenue.
Register to be a new StoryMash author today!
Readers participate in the collaborate writing community. Vote for your favorite chapters and influence which plots get written next. Provide your feedback, praise, and criticism to authors about their creative writing in discussions attached to every chapter.
While reading one of our great fiction stories, if the story doesn't continue the way you want or have a great idea on what should happen next and catch the collaborate writing bug, register to write a follow up chapter!
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He was no longer. I looked out the window. The landscape was dark, only somewhat lit by the moon and streetlights. I heard some frogs. I stepped out onto the street and took out my phone. I stood under a streetlight and looked at the contacts. His name was there. Wasn’t in the list of recent calls.
Life here had been so amazing. All pastels, tropical trees, garlanded villas, afternoon storms followed by a searing sun. Still, I don’t know why I had left my hometown. There was no strong reason, really. No extraordinary tales of hardship, violence, depravity. Myself, I wasn’t running away from the law or anything. I just left cause that’s what I’ve done. It’s been my way of life. I will leave here at some point too.
The shadows on the sidewalk seemed particularly lonely tonight. I noticed them because I didn’t look up much that night. In my peripheral vision I could make out people sitting at sidewalk cafes, laughing, talking, drinking. Well, there was one last shadow in the world tonight.
The calls were pretty steady at first. Voicemails, text messages, emails. There are so many ways people can get a hold of you these days. I don’t know what was on the Voicemails. I had deleted them all. Maybe anger, maybe fear, maybe a feeling of being betrayed. After all, I was only 18 when I left. Now I’m 28. He couldn’ve found me if he really wanted to. Could’ve tracked me down.
The calls stopped eventually. Then the emails. Then the text messages. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe out of his sight, out of his mind. Maybe I ...