hive-170798 community on Hive

I Was There When She Said Yes

wildscribe — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 19:01:12 GMT

It remained just a bit for me to miss the moment because I was still busy looking for a better space that I could sit in. By the time I finally arrived at the great hall, most of the front seats were already filled up. The hall was filled with people; some were moving around, some were greeting their friends, snapping pictures, and a few were also finding a place where they could see the proper view of what was going on at the front.

Ife was already standing in the front with her father. I had known her since childhood, but I had never seen this look on her face before and how quiet she was. Because age always has one of two to say most times.
But this time, she hardly said a word. Her attention was focused on the man that was standing beside her while the lady registrar walked in and arranged some of the papers on the table.

During this time, I had already gotten a seat near the middle. Her younger sister noticed me and gave me a look, which indicated that I came late. I winked at her, smiled, and settled down comfortably without trying to say anything. The ceremony has already begun this time, and I did not want to be the one distracting the sister or anyone because I came late. The registrar has already settled down too while she continued with the ceremony, saying some things while also asking the question that brought together everyone from all over into the moment. When the question was thrown at Ife, if she would say yes to the man beside her to be her lovely husband till death do them part, she stirred at the man for a moment before answering. She was still calm and low as she said yes. The man looked at her, looked at the registrar, and smiled, and few people around me giggled and smiled quietly too.

I kept stirring at Ife. Early before then, we have talked, and she complained about the preparations and wedding, still second-guessing her dress, paying attention to small details, and keeping saying she was not nervous. But that moment, those things she complained about never mattered. She was right at the front holding the man's hand, paying attention to everything that was being said and also patiently waiting for the next thing on the ceremony list.

After the registrar asked all the questions that were needed to be asked, they were giving some documents to sign in. Ife took the pen, but I noticed how she moved her hands more slowly than she always does. She stirred at the paper and signed where she needed to sign and dropped the pen. And when she faced us, and as she moved away from the table, I noticed a small smile on her face that she was unable to hide this time.

Moving outside, the situation of things changed completely. People were all around them to snap with them. One photograph kept shouting that everyone should move closer, while another said they should not rush the couples and everyone should take turns.

Ife laughed as some friends and family members called her name just to praise her and get her attention. The lady who barely talked inside the great hall was suddenly surrounded by people and noise again.

When we eventually got to move closer to each other, she finally showed her bright smile with all her thirty-two outside. She noticed that I had been seeing how everyone was going from where I was. There was this funny thing: she asked me if I came early to witness the start of the ceremony from the beginning, as if I had missed the most crucial aspect of the event. I replied to her that I had not missed any important aspect. She smiled again as she walked back to her man.

A few years or months from now, she might have forgotten who and who sat at the front or back seat. She might not remember all the faces she met and what was said to her. But before she answers, I will remember that moment when she stirred at the man and took a moment before she said yes in a low voice. I was around to witness that special moment, and somehow, that was enough.

Images from AI

WELCOME TO MY BLOG AND THANKS FOR READING.💚

©️ wildscribe

The People's King

patience37 — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 18:53:57 GMT

‎Long ago, in a small village called Alika, there were two brothers named Abel and Sam. They were the sons of the village king, who had ruled peacefully for many years. Abel was the elder brother, while Sam was actually the younger one. Abel was proud and didn't mind the way he lived his life because he thought being the firstborn would automatically make him the next king. He often told the villagers, "I am the first son, and nobody has the right to challenge me. I will be the next king."
‎
‎Sam was quiet and responsible. He always helped the villagers and showed respect to everyone in the village. His father often looked at his brothers and said that he saw the qualities of a good king in both of them. Before his death, the father made it clear to the elders and the villagers that the next king shouldn't be chosen based on birth order, but on the qualities needed to be a good ruler.
‎

‎When it was time to select the new king, the elders gathered to decide who would lead next.
‎Abel immediately stepped forward and said, I am the firstborn. The throne belongs to me. So you all do not need to stress out and decide anything else, but just make me the king. However, the elders reminded him of their late king's words, that the throne is not simply given because you are the firstborn, as the laws of the community imply. But if you are responsible enough to take care of the people in the village.
‎
‎So they decided to give the villagers control for a period to see who could lead well. During this time, Abel used fear and authority over the people because he was full of pride.
‎
‎The villagers came to him with the problem of lack of water and asked for his advice. Abel told them, "Go and do what you think is possible. I am too busy for that." The same villagers then went to Sam. Sam decided to follow them to a dry river and asked some of the people to bring tools to help restore the river. This is how he guided them and helped bring water back. With that experience, everyone in the village supported him.
‎
‎Abel decided to approach some elders to persuade them to make him king. They actually agreed to crown him. When it was time for judgment, the people gathered around. Since it was their right to decide, the elders tried to persuade the people that Abel should be king. However, after the announcement, everyone in the village refused and began shouting, "Sam is our king! Sam is our king.
‎
‎The art was very amazing, since the rules of many kings. All the villagers had never stood out to select one person, but this time they chose someone, and the elders had no choice but to respect the decision. Thus, Sam became the new king and reigned greatly.
‎
‎Source pixabay
‎

THE CHOICES

reagan-4133 — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 17:43:18 GMT

It became clear when the swinging stopped and the strings grew taut. My son, this letter to you hides a part of that truth.
https://img.leopedia.io/DQmPiHefopqNaGf51AJZDpupWKrDKkCMbaP6txgivBfT3gi/1000050719.png

The sky was blue, dotted with scattered clouds that made it even more beautiful. In the heart of the city stood a building meant for the most hopeful souls. Pin-drop silence hung over the area, broken only by the distant wail of an ambulance and the hurried footsteps of workers.

Jez, a lean, middle-aged man with dark skin, raised his head to catch a ray of sunlight filtering through the window. The scent of roses lingered in the room, stirring memories of his journey toward hope. Thoughts raced; the life gone astray lay buried in his head. He moved closer to the window, sat down, drew the curtains, and looked outside. The glimmer of peace had found him late—too late—near his demise. The scattered clouds and bright blue sky reminded him of where his fate had been decided.

It was a bright day, just like any other. Jez woke up and watched it all happen in front of him. That moment sank into him, deep, and never left. He was among those left with mouths agape. The loss of his beloved father—who had stood between the life Jez wanted and the life his father wanted for him—hit him hard. His father was gone, and it was quick, because it had been done as planned.

All that was meant for his father was now his. He rose slowly and cried like the rest. It did not bother him; it only made him happy. His friends had orchestrated it skillfully, and it had gone down without suspicion from anyone—or so they believed. For months they had been planning it, telling themselves they were removing a man who was valuable, yes, but always underestimated in their lives.

The sound of a nurse's footsteps and the smell of perfume pulled Jez from the fantastical world. She drew near, stopped at the edge of the bed, and said, "Jez, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm feeling a little dizzy, but I'm fine," Jez said softly.

"It will be alright; just be a little patient and take more rest," the nurse said before leaving the room.

When the door closed, Jez opened his mouth and spoke what echoed in his mind—the voice was coming. The spirit of his dead father surged through his unbalanced head; he rose slowly and spoke what it demanded. It struck hard on both sides. Everyone on this earth tastes it—mostly bitter, but even the sweet is no better. They reach for the candle's light, only to find no lighter to ignite it, and so they choose darkness over uncertainty. The crawl toward the candle is marked by ups and downs, but beyond it lies a mystery few will ever figure out.

The voice vanished, and the calm atmosphere returned. Yet the cry inside him grew more frequent; the road within him grew more cracked. The valley of dismay was a road he still needed to cross. The voice of his dead father echoed in his head for as long as he could hold it. The echoes were vivid, and the love was still there—given by his father despite everything his son had done—though the pot had already broken.

The day it was first spoken aloud, when that cry first took root in his mind, it became clear to him. The voice of his late father stung deep into the flesh; the pain was unbearable, because the guilt of the sin never went away. He sat on his little bed, and slowly he fell asleep—right before the consequences came, and before his own mind turned the room into hell.

Once there existed a sphere large enough to withstand the burden it held. Time ticked, and the surface grew foul, and more so above it. Its constituents darkened it daily; every flaw dirtied its purity. Time elapsed and gave rise to a system, and that system eventually controlled it, with belief passed from one constituent to another becoming their way. They thrived day by day, believing all would go well, but it was in constant motion; slowly, everything unfolded just as it was foretold. The constituents yearned to see, only to see others' flaws. Jez thrived in it, and many like him. The day was awful, but he needed to sail through the storm.

It was a dark night. The noise echoed menacingly in his mind. Jez had been out of prison for medical treatment, since the toll of it all behind bars had deteriorated his health. He was sick from the ailment, and he himself was its cause. Jez was rushed to the nearby hospital to receive his medication and possibly return to serve his sentence. It was a day like any other, when the clock ticked and the time arrived for the tale to be told and a story to be narrated. The sun slowly rose from the east, and then the saga erupted.

Posted Using INLEO

The Last Walker

mother.dragons11 — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 16:17:51 GMT

"I am Daenerys, Mother of Dragons—a screenwriter and novelist with years of experience. I am deeply passionate about analyzing plots and reading dramatic character arcs. While my writing style is creative, my content is psychological and rooted in modern literary theories. I will be launching my journey on the Hive platform... bringing a fresh vision for the ending of each character. This vision reflects my literary perspective on character development. I will be sharing a serialized collection with you ."
(The Last Walker). [Story]
I stood with my royal grandeur on the slope of a snowy hill, my dragon Drogon by my side, watching the majestic scene with absolute vigilance.
The Night King stood facing Jon Snow and his direwolf, Ghost. With solemn words, Jon Snow directed his speech toward the Night King:
"I pledged my honor to serve the Night's Watch. But I died and was reborn; I rid myself of the weight of vows and oaths, but I never abandoned my quest to save the world."
For the first time, the Night King’s voice was heard—sounding like the cracking of ice. He spoke while looking into Jon’s eyes, yet he seemed to be staring into a void:
"Why do you carry on your shoulders the weight of a world that has never once carried your existential weight?"
Jon Snow’s lower lip trembled, and he swallowed a lump that had gathered in his throat. His voice came out like the melody of a mournful flute:
"Perhaps the more I feel rejected by the world..." He paused for a moment, sighing heavily, then continued, "...the more honor and loyalty swell within my chest."
The Night King let out a laugh that provoked both the old gods and the new. Jon Snow’s face flushed with rage. He gripped the hilt of his sword and lunged at the Night King, but the moment the blade touched the King’s body, it shattered.
The Night King laughed again. Then, extending both hands, he began to choke Jon Snow. I tried to rush to help my lover, but my body felt bound by chains. Jon Snow’s breath began to fade away slowly as he tried to reach his trembling hand toward his heavy cloak, while the howling of his wolf, Ghost, filled the horizon.
"Moon of my life...Moon of my life"
Suddenly, I heard the voice of my husband, Drogo!
The voice grew louder: "My moon of life." In an instant, I was back in my warm bed in the Dothraki lands, with Drogo’s eyes staring at me, flirting with every gaze.
He spoke to me in my tongue: "You were talking in your sleep."
I replied, "Yes, it was a nightmare."
"Was it that bad?!"
"Yes. And perhaps in my next dream, I will see who dies ."
To be continued...
By Daenerys, writer.

The Swirling Feather (Fiction Story)

kriszrokk — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 14:11:03 GMT

Big, healthy trees stretched majestically through the void, their highest branches tingling the clouds and guarding the park's entrance. The green on the leaves slowly faded, letting the autumn color palette rejoice and overtake the decoration of a cozy, warm, familiar place.

Kendall had half an hour to take a walk and enjoy time for herself before the church bells would ring and signal her return to the car.

“Half an hour ‘me time’. Wonderful. I can finally let go and be,” murmured Kendall as her pace slowed down and her breath normalized.

Dropping into her heart was never her challenge; rather, stopping her mind’s roulette from spinning when emergencies continuously popped up was something she’d been training for quite a while. This was another one of those perfect opportunities to practice plunging into the sweetness of the present moment.

💎💎💎

“How can we stop her in her tracks?” whispered one pigeon to the other.

“Send her a feather. It will stop her in her tracks and flush her memory bank. Encode the message you received from her father. Be quick. Drop it now.”

💎💎💎

Kendall had barely put her phone and car keys into her pocket when she spotted a feather swirling in front of her. She watched the feather descend and land on the ground before she bent down to pick it up.

“Dad! Is it you, Dad? We always communicated through feathers.”

A teardrop lingered on Kendall’s right cheek as she inspected the messenger. She could decipher four different shades of gray with a white, fluffy ending, turning the feather into a wondrous gift from another realm.

When she looked up, the crowns of the trees allowed a few sparkles of the evening sun to shine through and project their light onto the scene. Time stopped existing, and everything around transformed into a garden with ripe tomatoes and gorgeous sword lilies.

“Create your own world, sweetheart. Follow your heart if it calls you back home. Inner peace is priceless, and you’ve already experienced glimpses of it. Be courageous. Respect your soul.”

Kendall’s eyes filled with tears of joy as she heard the voice that was communicating telepathically with her through the feather.

“I’m coming home, Dad. I like to visit the world, but nothing vibrates and feels so warmhearted as home.”

“I know”, whispered the voice in a comforting tone before time kicked back in full swing and the transmission was over.

💎💎💎

“Did the message hit home, or do we have to drop a few more feathers?” continued the pigeon after a while, surveilling Kendall and making sure they remained hidden from her visible field.

“Am I an oracle or what? How should I know? I’m just the delivery machine using my precious feathers to get messages across these stupid Earthlings,” replied the other pigeon, clearly frustrated and a little bit angry.

“Hmmm. I’ll drop a couple more of my fluffy whites to see how she reacts. Let her walk for a while and ponder. I wish I could hack into the telepathic transmission. To be honest, I don’t know who’s the stupid one in this equation. We are the ones to facilitate the communication between dimensions, and on top of that, we’re the ones to lose our feathers without being able to decode the information.”

The frustrated pigeon looked at his friend, mesmerized, and before flying off, replied:

“I never signed up to fly with a philosopher and listen to all these sophisticated theories. I don’t care what messages and frequencies they impregnate on my feathers as long as I can keep flying and enjoying the view. I want to live a simple life; why do we have to overcomplicate things like humans do? I’m done with this mission.”

“I guess I’ll have to find a new pal after all. Next time I’ll pick a sparrow. Maybe they’re smarter,” responded the pigeon philosopher, waiting for the perfect moment to drop two more feathers into Kendall’s space.

💎💎💎

“Weird. Another tiny white feather. Oh, and there’s another one. Thank you, but I got the message the first time.”

Kendall looked up at the sky, searching for the messenger while allowing her energetic field to clear and cleanse. She could hear the bells of the church ring as she walked calmly towards the park’s exit, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and supreme bliss.

💎💎💎 Krisz Rokk 💎💎💎

Original fiction story without using AI.

Images by Daniela S. aka @wayofaiki using Midjourney and Photoshop.

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IT ALWAYS STARTS FROM SOMEWHERE

reagan-4133 — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 05:21:06 GMT

The sun was slowly creeping up, and the morning star still shone brightly across the entire eastern horizon. Birds harmoniously recited their usual morning glory. It was a day blessed by the Maker; the flower petals were conspicuously visible even from afar. Indeed, the morning was bright, bearing all the signs of profound peace. Below, the river flowed swiftly across the plains, water hitting the banks of the lowlands with a quick splash. That sound signaled that the dry season was still far off. A farmer walked past, equipped with his machete and hoe, ready for the routine.
https://img.leopedia.io/DQmb9ETZUWS5Ch7NW7wQ1bh1Fv6KSXajApvHP6HTa1znYhK/image_de2ed622.jpg

Jez's destiny, however, was traced back to this very morning—the moment his life turned from the real to the fantastical. The memory of that vivid day seemed sharp to his now old, forgetful mind as he reminisced about the flaws that had brought him to this prison-like vicinity.

"I am tired of this. I'm going to taste both of what the world has cooked for me. You know what? I'm gone. Don't look for me. I want freedom, and I want it now."

These words—the exact words that changed the destiny of a strong, energetic person to ultimate misery—still gave him visible goosebumps. Jez had said this to his mother before leaving, without even finishing school. His mother had stared at him as he packed his belongings and set the ball rolling toward the city. Jez reminisced on this now, lying on the hospital bed. There was no hope in sight, no help from even close friends. That blissful day had turned into the stepping stone toward the agony he now knew all too well.

Yes, humanity is doomed. The earth is old enough for judgment, yet the reality is that the very people who breathe this oxygen are beyond saving. Humanity is afflicted with an ailment worse than cancer—a sickness that requires power beyond human reach to heal. The earth is tired of carrying people who cannot even carry themselves. Day by day, it dawns with a shocking incident that leaves those same people shocked.

If the clock were to be rewound, would humanity choose peace over war, or good relationships over chaos? No one can unravel that, as we are all fighting wars that were never ours, constantly seeking approval from the same jealousy-invested minds. Jez, now sagely imbued with wisdom, recited this to himself, though it had taken a long, agonizing time to learn.

Jez started his journey to look for a freedom that couldn't be found in books, ready to be consumed by the hungry earth and its perverse minds. Jed, Jek, and Jez—this was the team that would sail to the city to see for themselves what the world was preparing. Whether it was mouth-watering food or foul waste, they were ready to take it. Pride was at its peak; the declaration phase hadn't even started. The plan was simple: to thrive and become the most famous men in the city. They had little knowledge of the metropolis, but they were ready to maximize its possibilities to the fullest.

The clock is a magic instrument that guides all of humanity. Life for the boy child is in a sympathetic mood. Boy child, rise and reclaim your rightful position. The clock is still ticking; every second is a delay for one waiting for the "right time." Jez chose quick bliss over prolonged peace and prosperity; his fate was decided by himself. His companions are now rooted in far more psychotic and complicated vicinities, where mere survival is the main aim. The sweet, spherical earth keeps revolving and rotating, trying to keep its constituents comfortable enough to thrive.

The cold, brisk breeze hovered swiftly across his skinny, skeleton-like body, and goosebumps appeared, stretching his already taut skin. Melancholic tears flowed down his rough face. Humanity was busy fighting for their lives; every minute, a human being lost their precious gift from God. Jez quivered like a chameleon on a fragile twig. Yet, the past haunted him, much worse than the scary present.

"I must re-educate humanity. Though I was the worst father, let me be an example to anyone who wants to be the head of a family. I chose the wrong path; my friends were the worst companions—they turned my focus, and I followed without a 'no.' The world is full of weak men, sick with the lust of their eyes and the need for endless validation. Who will stand tall enough to bend the tall giraffe in the countryside? Who is tall enough to speak to the few who can still be redeemed? This age is about to end; there are no more real miracles, as only deceit thrives in the mouths of even religious people. I did all that, and the only prize I got was limited access to see my children and restricted breaths of fresh, natural air. I am confined in a prison that I can't escape.

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The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #52 ~ Fiction or Creative Nonfiction

theinkwell — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 05:23:39 GMT

![pexels-pavel-danilyuk-8815318.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/theinkwell/23wCEJXyYrYpjZRtp9Ms663ocEG4gKGWEjTeTXCZBwTmYx8G2DhSaYVyw1mkTdpoP52Wq.jpg)

_{Source: Pexels}

Welcome to the Weekly Writing Prompt from The Ink Well

We provide one weekly writing prompt for short story writers. You may choose to use the prompt to write a fictional story (made up from your imagination) or a creative nonfiction story (based on your real-life experiences).

IMPORTANT: To be considered for curation, you must include one of these tags on your post:

Fictional stories: #fiction
Creative nonfiction stories: #creativenonfiction

You must also read and comment on the work of two other community members. Remember: We look for this when we curate your story. If we don't see this engagement, we will either provide a reminder or skip curating your post.

It is also very helpful to the admin team when authors add Fiction or Creative Nonfiction (or CNF for short) to the story title!

Before You Post in The Ink Well

Be sure to check out our community rules before posting in this community. You can find them at the top of our home page. They also appear at the top of a new post window.

Please also check out these additional helpful resources:

Learn more about our community and the expectations of community members in our FAQ post and our treasure trove of tips and guidelines.
Peruse our collection of great writing resources on everything from character development to how to write dialogue in our catalog of storytelling tips.
Learn more about creative nonfiction, how it differs from fictional stories, and tips for success in our post on creative nonfiction tips.
Remember that we are always about quality first. Never about quantity. To achieve awards in The Ink Well, take the time to write quality stories and check them for errors. See the topic of the month, "Don't Miss This Step" in the March 2025 newsletter to learn about using tools (and using them properly) if you are not already doing this. We do notice when you don't take the time!

Last Week's Winning Story of the Week

Thank you to everyone who shared a story for the last prompt, "It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it"!

Each week we pick one of our favorite stories of the week and award the author 5 Hive.

And we have a winner! Congrats to @mmam for her story, The Snake Man Of Eleme Street.

Here's what our curators had to say:

I loved this story by @mmam. The author gives us a fully developed, sympathetic character that everyone refers to as 'snake'. It would seem that snake is an aspersion on his character. It's not. The man risks his life, time after time, to catch snakes that have found their way into people's homes. He takes no money for this. The charm of this story is that the author allows us into the snake catcher's mind as he does his work. There is not bravery so much as generosity. He is doing what no one else can do as safely. Lovely story.

Congratulations, @mmam!

Short Story Writing Prompt of the Week

This week's prompt is: "Witness."

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The Hive Creatives Magazine From The Inkwell Curators - Issue # 51

theinkwell — Thu, 24 Sep 2026 16:46:06 GMT

![HiveCreatives.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/theinkwell/23ynUbVxMsh7iN2oZRmz3xui5Y674JG12sz7HS95gvg8pDR1NWczt3XcbQXFzu72k1C1A.jpg)_{Image generated with Leonardo.ai}Welcome to the Hive Creatives Magazine! What's it all about? The Ink Well curators are branching out! For years we have been curating the fiction and creative nonfiction short stories posted by writers in our community. And now we are excited to curate and showcase creative work from across the blockchain — from beautiful photography and artwork to riveting stories and essays. Why? We love creativity! Read on to see what we have in store in this edition of the magazine.

Featured Creative: @hiramdo ## [El triángulo del Orinoco. [Esp/Eng] Prosa poética. ](https://peakd.com/hive-179291/@hiramdo/el-triangulo-del-orinoco-espeng-prosa-poetica)
_{Discovered in Literatos}

Image Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @ramon2024
Contemporary Art in Valencia

_{Discovered in worldmappin'}

Image Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @sandormb ## [Butterfly Catrina // Monomad challenge](https://peakd.com/hive-142159/@sandormb/butterfly-catrina-monomad-challenge)
_{Discovered in Black and White}

Image Author's own image

Featured Creative: @mmam ## [The Snake Man Of Eleme Street ](https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@mmam/the-snake-man-of-eleme )
_{Discovered in the Inkwell Community}

Image: AI generated

Featured Creative: @pokharelbro7 ## [Paddy Field Frog](https://peakd.com/hive-130906/@pokharelbro7/paddy-field-frog )
_{Discovered in Nature Observor}

Author's own image

Featured Creative: @bozz ## [Post Traumatic Distress](https://peakd.com/hive-178138/@bozz/post-traumatic-distress)
_{Discovered in The Pub}

Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @gabmr
When the Ink Flows Unlikely

_{Discovered in the Inkwell Community}

Image:Pixabay

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The Ink Well Treasure Trove of Tips, Reminders and Guidelines

theinkwell — Sun, 05 Jan 2025 05:06:48 GMT

Source: Pixabay

Here it is!

Our treasure trove of helpful guidelines, reminders and tips for successfully participating in The Ink Well community. This information was formerly included in our monthly newsletter, but we decided that it deserves a permanent spot in our collection of resources.

Many of the reminders in this article are common issues we see in The Ink Well posts. We are sharing them here so you can access them anytime.

Thank you to everyone who works hard at writing quality stories, following The Ink Well rules and guidelines and supporting other authors in the community!

1. Do not use AI tools, except to check for spelling and grammar, and to create images

We have asked that you do not use AI tools to generate stories. What you do elsewhere is your business, but we do not allow it in The Ink Well.

Additionally, we ask that you do not use AI tools like Quillbot to rephrase and rewrite your stories. If you do that, you are still using AI to generate and manipulate content. It is not your natural writing and if it is detected by our tools, you will not be curated.

The one tool we sanction for assisting with the quality of your writing is Grammarly. It is simple and free to use for checking spelling and grammar. Please only use it for simple spelling and grammar corrections.

NOTE: Do not use the AI features to rewrite your stories! Our AI detectors will identify your work as AI and it will not be curated. (We provided a full walkthrough of why stories that are edited and rephrased with AI tools show up as 100% AI in our AI detection tools in the February 2025 newsletter. We recommend you visit that post.)

AI for image generation is okay.

2. Check for errors before posting

In The Ink Well, we look for quality. If you dash off a story without refining it, this is obvious to the reader, and to The Ink Well admins. If we have trouble understanding sentences, or words are missing or misspelled, or the pronoun "I" is written in lower case, or periods are missing from the ends of many sentences, then it is clear you did not take that little bit of extra time to review your content before posting it.

The good news is there are some simple tools:

-- Make use of Hive tools: Most online editor tools, including the ones you use to draft your stories, such as Peakd, will underline items in red that are likely misspelled or not used correctly.

-- Draft your content in Google docs: Google docs has a good editor feedback tool too. It will underline items in red, and you can click on them to select the suggested fix. It is very easy to do and it is explained in the post Help for the Grammatically Challenged.

-- Use the spell checker in Grammarly: Grammarly is a free tool for checking the quality of your work.

However, note that you should not use the rephrasing or rewriting capabilities of Grammarly, or any other tool, because it will get your story flagged as AI developed.

-- Review your work before posting. You will most likely find a missing word, a grammatical error, a misspelling or a sentence that does not start with a capital letter, etc. Reading through carefully is one of the best things you can do before you submit your story.

3. Do not portray violence (or sex) in your stories

It is important to know that stories featuring violence are not allowed in The Ink Well. We won't accept or curate stories involving rape, incest, beatings, stabbings, murders or abuse. This is clearly stated in our rules.

Why?

First of all it is offensive and harmful to some people, especially those who have endured violence in their own lives and are suffering emotionally from those experiences.
Second, we cannot screen who views our community content or prevent sensitive audiences from viewing it. We have no way of ensuring that stories in The Ink Well will only be seen by appropriate readers.
And third, The Ink Well admins choose not to read stories about violence and abuse. This job is challenging enough without facing gruesome shootings, beatings, rapes, child molestation, etc.

So we have defined and enforced rules around this. They are simply this: Don't publish stories in this community about violence, rape, or abuse. You can see the full details in the article on our stance on violence.

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Catalog of Storytelling Tips from The Ink Well

theinkwell — Thu, 03 Jun 2021 06:09:21 GMT

_{Image source: Edar on Pixabay}

Those who post in The Ink Well find out one thing fast: we are here to help writers improve. You will likely hear from us when we believe you have something to work on — whether it's character development, grammar, a missing story arc, or other important elements of quality fiction. Ae're amazed by the continual growth of skills and writing quality in The Ink Well!

Over the many months since The Ink Well community launched, we've been writing tips to support our community members in their writing journey. Here you will find a catalog of topics. Please refer to this list anytime you are looking for inspiration or ideas for how you can continue to build your skills and improve your craft.

Catalog of Storytelling Tips

This collection was previously called the "Catalog of Fiction Writing Tips." However, so many of these tips apply to all storytelling, including creative nonfiction, that we decided to rename the collection.

We've organized the tips in broad categories to help you quickly find what you're looking for.

Getting Started

Writing Basics

"Do's and Don'ts" of Fiction Writing

IMPORTANT NOTE: An important thing to remember in the "do's and don'ts" category is to consider the audience you are writing for, and to heed the "writer's guidelines" for any publication or platform you write for.

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hive-170798 community on Hive

I Was There When She Said Yes

WELCOME TO MY BLOG AND THANKS FOR READING.💚

The People's King

THE CHOICES

The Last Walker

The Swirling Feather (Fiction Story)

IT ALWAYS STARTS FROM SOMEWHERE

The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #52 ~ Fiction or Creative Nonfiction

Welcome to the Weekly Writing Prompt from The Ink Well

Before You Post in The Ink Well

Last Week's Winning Story of the Week

Short Story Writing Prompt of the Week

The Hive Creatives Magazine From The Inkwell Curators - Issue # 51

Featured Creative: @ramon2024

Contemporary Art in Valencia

Featured Creative: @bozz ## [Post Traumatic Distress](https://peakd.com/hive-178138/@bozz/post-traumatic-distress)Discovered in The Pub Credit: Author's own image Featured Creative: @gabmrWhen the Ink Flows Unlikely Discovered in the Inkwell Community Image:Pixabay

Featured Creative: @gabmr

When the Ink Flows Unlikely

The Ink Well Treasure Trove of Tips, Reminders and Guidelines

1. Do not use AI tools, except to check for spelling and grammar, and to create images

2. Check for errors before posting

3. Do not portray violence (or sex) in your stories

Catalog of Storytelling Tips from The Ink Well

Catalog of Storytelling Tips

Getting Started

Writing Basics

"Do's and Don'ts" of Fiction Writing

Featured Creative: @bozz ## [Post Traumatic Distress](https://peakd.com/hive-178138/@bozz/post-traumatic-distress)
_{Discovered in The Pub}

Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @gabmr
When the Ink Flows Unlikely

_{Discovered in the Inkwell Community}

Image:Pixabay