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NEVER LOOKED, DIDN’T KNOW

kilvnrex — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 22:35:42 GMT

You know one thing about paying attention to details is that not everyone was really thought to do so. It’s easy to just want to pass and do everything as you do them. Even though we know that sometimes we should step back 5 by 5, we somehow prefer to rush things. Sometimes we are genuinely in a hurry, but other times we have just been wired to act before thinking. This used to be me, or should I say this is me and It has made me make avoidable mistakes. Mistakes that would have been avoided if I just took another 15 seconds to look closely. I guess it’s safe to say I often lose track of what is right in front of me because I am only focused on what I have in mind.

Just like the day I came home from school, I knocked and knocked but there was no one to open the gate. I tried calling my mum but her number wasn’t going through, I tried reaching my sister but her number also wasn’t going through. This made me start to think, what could have been wrong. At that moment I had a ton of emotions running through my head. Firstly I was very pressed and needed to relive myself, that alone was already blocking my thinking ability and was making me very restless. I knew that the thing I needed above all was a way to relive myself, so I went to my neighbours house to explain my situation. She could clearly read the anxiety on my face, but at that point I could see some sort of confusion because she knows my mum very well.
https://img.leopedia.io/DQmfWePkdAoCFnMX4wgTvAF8oGxi2HXtmHx2G6ZeTHfV7y7/gizem-nikomedi-PKjNJQDE0YA-unsplash.jpg

Photo by Gizem Nikomedi on Unsplash

I could not tell what she was thinking, but to me it looked something like “Your mum would never leave the house without thinking of a way to leave the key for you.” But I guess seeing my anxiety clearly written she did what anyone in her shoes would do, and that was let me use her rest room. After I was done, I went back to thinking clearly, but this time my thoughts were “how can I enter this house, I need to enter this house, I do not know when they will come back home and I can’t continue staying outside. I was angry, and I was hungry after a very long day, all I thought I would do was just eat and sleep but now I was stuck outside.

For me the more I thought about it, the only option was clear, I needed to break the lock, but thinking about that made me realize something. If I broke the padlock for the gate, how would I break the lock for the entrance door? I went to our backyard to assess if I maybe left the kitchen door open, and behold I did. This made me so happy that I did not know when I began to smile from ear to ear. The thought of breaking the lock had solidified in my head, but this time it wasn't the lock to the front gate but rather the lock to the back gate. So I went to get a hammer from that same neighbor again. This time when I asked for a hammer I could see the hesitation on her face, then she asked why don’t you wait here?

I could not tell her that I did not feel comfortable at her place, so I told her I needed to get something urgently inside the house and it was time sensitive. I could still feel her hesitation, but she reluctantly went in to get me the hammer. For me this was progress, and for her it was clear she had a lot to say but did not want to seem intrusive. After I collected the hammer I went straight to the backyard and started hammering at the padlock on the gate. As I hammered away I could feel some of the other neighbors' eyes in my direction trying to check what was making all that noise, but I couldn’t care less as all I wanted to get inside. After about 15 minutes of continuous hammering, the padlock could no longer hold it in and finally gave in. I was so happy because finally I had won my 15 minute battle.

I went back to return the hammer and I could see the sadness in my neighbors face, it was like saying “I hope you are satisfied now that you’ve gotten what you wanted. And to be honest if she had asked, I would have told her that I have never been more satisfied in my life” I guess at the end of the day she could also read that in my expression as I came smiling from ear to ear. Going back to my house, I finally entered the house happy, but then realized the padlock was broken. In my mind that wasn’t my problem, if they didn’t want it broken they should have at least left the key for me. I was angry with them believing my anger was justified and was ready to argue my case when they finally got back home.

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Democracy

seki1 — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 21:52:27 GMT

He watched the video on the screen and realized what had happened. The whole room was quiet, his phone was buzzing with notifications; tags, messages and calls.
The headline showed: "Presidential Contestant Fornicator?"
"It's not valid. It's a setup!" His secretary screamed but Mr Wallace knew it was real.
He remembered the night very well, he remembered the girl and he remembered just how loud they were that night.
"Mr Wallace, we can still save this. Make a statement now, and deny this claim." His council advisor responded calmly.

It's a shocking new development, isn't it Theresa?.

The television spokesperson showed up on the screen...

Indeed it is John. Who could have thought that the beloved Dr Wallace would be brought down like this.. a day before the debate no doubt.

Indeed, an advantageous move towards his main opponent and the current President Gerald, who has no compromising video of him with a strange woman in a hotel.

"I can't believe he said that!" His council advisor screamed at the Television.
The anger, although deserved, was not replied. It's well known that the media outlets are in Gerald's pocket.
The whole country was losing and Mr Wallace couldn't take it anymore.
That's why he formed the People's Party. A party that would take the country back, give it to the people, let Democracy mean something again.
"Mr Wallace?" His secretary asked and put a hand to his shoulder.
Only then did Mr Wallace move and come back to the room.
He had been deep in thought since he saw the headline and the video. He had been making a plan.
It was a disastrous mistake, one that now he couldn't deny or refute without looking even more guilty.
"Sir, what do you plan to do?" His Campaign Advisor asked.
"Such a silly question Peter, what else would a man do in such a situation than to go beg his wife?"

The house was quiet. He half expected the media to flood here, hungry dogs looking for a juicy lap of chicken.
The lights were off and the door locked yet he knew she was there.
He stood at the doorway, shoulders slumped and head down. It wasn't exactly a moment of guilt, more like sorrow or just sobriety
It was something she had known about and we already had the conversation, buried it under wraps and cleaned the X off the map, then burnt the map.
Clearly the rain and wind has brought up the corpse.
He knocked. Just two words came back.
"It's unlocked."

Mr Wallace walked into the house lit dimly by the table lamp in the corner, Mrs Wallace sat there, her reading glasses on and her phone in her hand.
"Good Evening Dear." Mr Wallace tried.
"Not good. Eventful maybe, but certainly not good." She started.
Mr Wallace exhaled a breath of relief, she's talking; hence she isn't that angry.
"Imagine my surprise when I'm in the middle of getting groceries when I get a call from Janet. She was saying something about how you were cheating on me, but of course I couldn't even react or think of what she's talking about because everyone is staring at me and I'm staring at the ceiling TV and there it was. My husband, in a bad recording but very clearly he is carrying a girl into a hotel."
"It's an old video..."
"I know it's an old video you idiot!" She cut him off with a slap on the table.
Slowly she removed her reading glasses, folded it and put it in its case.
"It's an old video that has been brought back to drag us down; to drag this country down."
Mr Wallace was relieved. That's why he loved her, the firecracker in her didn't stop her from seeing the full picture.
"The debate is tomorrow, what are you going to do?" She asked.
"Debate is taken care of, Gerald has made a brilliant and yet a stupid move." Mr Wallace explained.
He could see faint hints of the confusion in the way her brows knitted together in the lamplight.
"It'll be alright baby." He said coming in for a kiss, she stood up and moved away to the bedroom.
"I do hope you know what you're doing." Mrs Wallace exhaled as she walked out.
That night Mr Wallace slept in the sitting room, with his trouser and shirt on as he scribbled down notes.
The idea that this was a fatal blow is what gave him the winning edge. Now he couldn't wait for the debate to start, because unlike any other contestants, he now knew his questions.

Mr Wallace's car rolled up to the venue for the debate and as he stepped out, the camera started flashing and clicking.
He was the star of the show, now more so than ever. He took his time as he walked into the TV station venue. A calm confident gait, one that showed he hadn't a care in the world and the reporters ate it up.
He could

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The Book of Joy (Eng/Esp)

popurri — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 19:51:48 GMT

![306691.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/popurri/AKScLbMKET2vB8ptFR7C2zqJSaDjgAga2ZDtuQA9ownuFFh5RrwUXpXKnyGpQ2s.jpg)Canva IA

I wrote this fiction story to participate in The Inkwell's weekly writing prompt

VERSION EN INGLES

The town library was an old building with gray stone walls, built more than three hundred years ago by a man who believed in the importance of books for humanity. He had bequeathed it in his will, to be given after his death, because he had lived there his entire long life, surrounded by books.

Mr. Magnolia loved not only books but also painting and sculpture. Beautiful works of art adorned the walls and hallways of the building’s two floors, which looked more like a medieval castle. His books—true historical relics—had been left in what used to be his favorite room.

But time and technological advances meant that fewer and fewer people were visiting the library. Maintaining it was costly, so to make it sustainable, the city modernized the building and restored the ground floor as a commercial area with a café, a bookstore, and a souvenir shop for tourists who came to explore the area’s natural beauty.

The library had been relegated to the second floor, and for some time now, a sense of loneliness had hung over its cold walls.

A young woman with long black hair and a slender figure entered the building. At that time of the afternoon, the café and the store were full of people, chatting and laughing.

People seemed happy, but she wasn’t; nothing around her mattered. She walked slowly, looking for a quiet, safe place. And etched in her memory was the day she met Alberto in the library, sitting with a book with golden pages.

She shook off her memories and approached the woman behind the desk.

“Good afternoon! I’d like to go up to the library.”

“Tell me your name?” she asked without looking up from the computer.

"Cristina Almeida"

The woman looked up and gazed at her from behind her glasses. Her name sounded familiar, since she was the only visitor besides that pale young man, who was no longer with her. She handed her a pass hanging from a blue ribbon.

"Return it when you leave"

Cristina climbed the spiral staircase, step by step, and with each step, the light grew dimmer and dimmer. She reached the hallway and entered through a wooden door flanked by two white marble angels, their hands clasped in prayer.

The floor-to-ceiling window, spanning the entire wall, let in the last rays of the sunset. A rainbow of colors covered the floor and the shelves filled with books. It was the light unfurling its fan.

For a few moments, she saw him sitting at a table in front of the book with golden pages. Just like that afternoon, when he turned to look at her and, with a smile, said,

“It seems we’re the only ones in this library.”

"This is my favorite place," she replied, smiling too.

She was just as he remembered her: her thick, black hair, her slender figure, and her pale face—but with eyes full of life.

From that moment on, they were inseparable; his joy was so vibrant that he shared it with her. Until death snatched him away.

Her heart ached in her chest. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, his image was gone, but the book was on the table.

She approached it fearfully. Maybe it was just an illusion, too, and would vanish in seconds.

The book was open, and its pages were written in a language he didn’t understand. He looked for the cover to read the title. It was written in the same language, and on the next page, handwritten in black ink with beautiful calligraphy, was a dedication.

Joy is your inner energy; let it shine within you. Antonio Magnolia

When she put the book back on the table, a note slipped out from between its pages and fell to the floor.

![306720.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/popurri/AJmqMNLMtm7EVJznHZBwGAAaZhFKfh54rerZhuWKnaKaHKM5ZEYTA2yiWNWPqRM.jpg)Canva IA

Written in the same handwriting, it read:

To the person reading this note. Today is the best day of my life, and I hope it’s yours, too. Don’t let this message stop here; you can make it happen. Help me get this message to other people. Thank you. I send you a hug with all my love. A.M.

Cristina picked up the note, put it in her purse, and left the library. She felt so light; her sadness had vanished. Everything around her was shining. The leaves on the trees swaying in the wind, the clouds in the deep blue sky, the path stretching out before her.

She heard the laughter of the children leaving school and the singing of the birds flying from branch to branch, and her heart was filled with joy.

She walked past a man who looked to be about thirty, sitting on a bench. He had his head in his hands and a vacant stare.

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Fiction: Axius’s Message (El mensaje de Axius) [EN/ES]

rinconpoetico7 — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 19:08:12 GMT

English #### Axius’s Message

“Attack!” Axius commanded his warriors.

Hordes of warriors surged toward the invaders. Swords danced on that summer afternoon as the sun headed toward a harrowing, death-filled end. After several hours of combat, Axius’s warriors prevailed over the Arlicus. One by one, the invaders retreated as night fell over the crimson-stained battlefield.

The victorious Draxians raised their swords in a sign of victory, their shouts echoing across the battlefield. Axius, an imposing warrior with long brown hair and eyes as dark as night, addressed his troops.

“Brave Draxians, the gods have granted us victory over our Arlicus enemies. Let us return to our kingdom to celebrate and give thanks through sacrifices for today’s victory and our right to exist on this fertile and bountiful land.” Axius raised his spear.

The Draxian warriors continued to shout in emotional ecstasy as they marched back to the kingdom, where they were awaited by the people, who welcomed the warriors amid a shower of red rose petals.

“Welcome, brave Draxian warriors; your people welcome you as heroes,” Queen Despia spoke from the palace balcony. “We must celebrate our heroes. Let the feast begin.”

Shouts of jubilation filled the palace square, while Queen Despia disappeared behind the crimson curtains of the balcony doors. Queen Despia sent one of the court servants to summon Axius.

“I am here, my dear lady.” Axius bowed before the queen.

“Rise, dear Axius. Your courage and leadership have granted us victory.” Queen Despia rose from her throne.

“Thank you, my dear lady. I merely fulfilled my duty as a soldier.” Axius remained on his knees.

“Stand up, Axius. And look me in the eyes.” Queen Despia reached out her hand to the warrior. “You know that my admiration goes beyond your bravery.” She caressed Axius’s face and then kissed him.

Axius, taken aback, pulled his face away from the queen’s.

“Please, my lady, I cannot do this. I have a wife whom I love very much.”

A flush of red spread across the queen’s beautiful, pale face.

“Insolent! How dare you reject your queen? You deserve severe punishment.”

The queen returned to her throne, her heart filled with resentment over the rejection.

“My lady, please do not take this the wrong way. My heart belongs to another. I love my queen as everyone in the kingdom does, but not in the way Your Majesty desires. I’m sorry.” Axius knelt and took Queen Despia’s hand.

“You are a fool. You are turning down the throne for a despicable peasant girl.” Queen Despia violently pulled her hand away from Axius’s. “For your good service to the kingdom, I will spare you punishment. Now get out of my sight—I never want to see you again.” The queen gave a signal, and the servants led Axius out of the court.

Axius left the court with his head bowed and made his way home, where his beloved Yei was waiting for him. At the door of the small white house, with a small garden on either side of the entrance, there stood Yei, with long hair as black as night and mesmerizing honey-colored eyes.

“My love, my longed-for life, my everything.” Yei ran into Axius’s arms.

“My beloved, my treasure, how I’ve missed you these past months.” Axius planted a passionate kiss on Yei’s beautiful crimson lips.

The couple gave themselves over to the love they felt for one another. As dawn broke, three urgent knocks rang out on the honey-colored cedar door. Yei woke up, startled by the loud sound. When she opened the door, she saw no one, but there was a papyrus scroll with a message on the floor. Yei picked it up and took it to Axius, who was just beginning to wake from his long, pleasant sleep.

“Look, honey. They left this.” Yei held up the papyrus.

“Hmm… That’s strange. Let me see.” Axius looked at the papyrus.

Axius grew agitated as he read the message.

“What’s going on, love?” Yei looked at Axius in astonishment.

“It seems the Arlicus are preparing to attack the kingdom.” Axius quickly got up and got dressed.

“Love, where are you going?”

“I have to see the queen as soon as possible.” Axius kissed Yei and left the house.

Axius mounted his brown steed with a white patch on its forehead. The horse galloped swiftly through the valley of the kingdom of Draxia, and after a few hours, he arrived at the imposing white palace.

“Open up quickly. I need to speak with Queen Despia.”

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The Message Inside the Bible

goldenproject — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 19:06:30 GMT

"When you mother is around, kindle give her this."

That what one of our neighbours said as she slipped a small brown envelope into my hands and returned while stirring at the roasted plantain and meat on the open door oven in our veranda. I was still very young, and I thought she has come around to deliver another monthly women's meeting letter.

I put the envelope under one of the cup trays in the kitchen and forgot it there.

My mother had traveled to meet my sister who just gave birth and was to return that week or the following week. Our neighbour has been expecting her to return since a week ago. She would come around to ask about hy, sometimes brings fresh fruits for us, and even bring us dinner sometimes, sweet foods. I never bothered to ask her why she always brings food and food because I understood her relationship with my mum. They are close neighbours.

Sunday passed, then the next day caney. Yet, she has not returned.

Sunday passed, then Monday. My father did not return.

Our neighbour never bothered to ask me about the not she gave me me, and I myself never bothered to remember. A few weeks later, I found it one Saturday while doing some house chores. I could remember who gave it to me even though I never tried to read the message in it.

I was curious.

I opened it, it says, I know that you have been my support even when you don't have much to yourself. I just want you to know that I appreciate it all.

After reading through, I returned it into the envelope.

At that age, I was unable to process it immediately why that short piece of message had to be put inside a brown envelope. I only knew that I should give it to my mum whenever she is back. This time, I did not put it under the tray, I put it inside one of her Bibles beside her bed.

Weeks passed. My mum finally came home, and left again the following week, then returned several times. The envelope was still where I kept it.

Then during one of those weekends, my mother was tidying up her room, dusting and cleaning everywhere because she does not like everywhere to be scattered. While rearranging her books and bibles, she picked up that particular Bible and the brown envelope slipped onto the floor.

I was in her room when she opens it.

She read it once, then again. I saw the little expression on her face and she sat on the edge of bed.

“Who wrote this?” she asked.

"I forgot to deliver the message. Our neighbour gave it to me while you were away."

She looked at me a a few seconds, then she smiled.

"She gave you this?"

I nodded my head in agreement.

She careful folded it back and placed it inside her wardrobe. She did not bother to ask me why I did not give it to her or why I had forgotten. Instead, she told me to always deliver messages and put things In mind.

That evening, she called her.

I could hear only her side of the discussion. She asked if everything is okay, whether she is enjoying where she is, and when she will coming back because she also traveled few weeks earlier to one of her family people side.

“I saw your note.”

There was a pause.

Then she laughed softly.

“You should have told me all this yourself.”

I did not find out what her response was, but I could imagine picture it in my telling her not to make a big matter out the gesture because they have always been there for eachother.

When our neighbour returned, she came with some of the things she bought to give us. My mother thanked her and complained that she had spent too money. She only smiled.

I watched as both of them were gisting about different things. Neither of them talked about the envelope again.

Even till now, I still remember that little envelope and how she gave me. I stayed under that tray for weeks before staying a bit inside the bible before it finally got to be read. I sometimes wonder what would happened if I had delivered it immediately my mother returned from her journey.

Perhaps, it would have been the same reaction. Perhaps something might have changed. I cannot really say for sure.

But I sometimes like to remember that evening she found it herself, as she sat at the edge of her bed to read the content as if she has been waiting for it.

Thank you for reading.

_{Images created by Gemini AI}

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A Little Reminder.

treasuree — Sun, 15 Nov 2026 17:11:06 GMT

It was Monday morning and Amara was not feeling it, three times the alarm went beep beep beep, her phone battery was dying, and the rain had just begun when she was getting ready to leave the house.

She said to God, "Is there any reason why there cannot be one peaceful morning?," and pulled her bag from the sofa.

"Amara! Is that my blue shirt you saw in the bedroom," shouted her little brother, Daniel.

Daniel, please please, if you don't find this shirt today, will you stop breathing?" I'm already late!"

Inside the room, Daniel laughed.

Look at this girl, you had a bad night's sleep.

Face your life, Abeg!

By the time she arrived at the office she was tired, having neglected the first bus and been splashed by dirty water from passing cars on the way, it wasn't even 9am.

Sandra, her colleague greeted her with a smile and said, "Good morning, madam.

"Which morning, please? I'm only just getting by at this one.

Sandra burst into laughter.

"Ah! What has got you so upset very early this morning?

"Life, Sandra. Life!"

She set her bag down, opened her computer, and saw a small folded piece of paper next to her computer keyboard.

She wondered, "What's this?She wondered, "What's this?

She opened it, and there were only five words written inside.

“You are doing better than you think.”

Amara gazed around the office, and wondered who had left it there. No name, no explanation, nothing else.

“Hmm, who is playing games with me?” she asked.

Sandra looked up.

"What?"

“No, no, no nothing, someone placed this note on my table.”

Sandra picked up and read it and smiled.

Well, the person who wrote it must know you need it!

Amara rolled her eyes.

"Please, don't start."

But oddly enough, she folded the note and put it in her purse.

Those words haunted Amara for a number of days, It was not as if she had just lost her troubles. She was still flacking about deadlines, her landlord was reminding her about rent and her boyfriend, Tobi, was in one of his stages.

Nevertheless, these five words remained with her.

When she came home Thursday evening, she noticed that her mother was sitting in the living room.

Sit down Amara, we have to talk.

She knew right then that it wouldn't just be a little talk.

Mummy please whatever it is tomorrow can we talk? I'm tired."

She looked at her mother, her mother looked at her.

That's the issue, You are always tired, you don't call that often, you don't visit that much, and when you really are needed, you say you have too much going on.

Amara sighed.

"Mummy, I'm trying, in your opinion, is it easy?

My daughter, I'm not saying it's easy, I'm just saying remember you have people that love you.

That night, Amara cried, and not because her mother was totally correct, but because she was starting to think she was succeeding in nothing.

The next morning she was looking for her lip gloss in her purse and there was the little note.

She took it, read it again and smiled slightly.

There came a thought to her.

She may not have needed someone to encourage her, perhaps she could be that for somebody else.

That afternoon she bought a little book, and she chose to begin to give little notes to people.

She wrote one for Sandra.

"Thanks for making the hard days better,"

She wrote another one for her mum.

"I may not say it but I do mean it, I appreciate everything you do, I love you Mummy!'

And for Daniel she wrote:

"Please don't finish my snack, I love you but God is watching you."

She inserted the notes into their bags and awaited.

Daniel ran in to her room that night.

"Sister Amara! What's this moronic shit you wrote in my bag?

She couldn't help but crack a laugh out of her.

"Which nonsense?"

God is on my side! Now you have told God about me, have you?

"Yes, and He has received the complaint."

They both laughed.

Her mother called her later in the night,

I read your note, my daughter, thank you, i love you too!

Amara had a smile to her lips, as she held her phone close.

Oddly enough, the one who had dropped the note on the desk in the office was still unknown, she never knew what his name was.

However, she didn't mind much anymore....

That little note had reminded her that sometimes people don't need us to solve all their problems, Sometimes all they need are just a few words to let them know that they are important.

But sometimes, it's the one we need to hear the most that needs to be us.

From then on Amara was writing little notes everywhere she could.

“After all you never know what someone is going through or the difference seven words can make.”

“You are doing better than you think.”

_{Image Is Generate With Chatgpt.}

The Hive Creatives Magazine From The Inkwell Curators - Issue # 58

theinkwell — Thu, 12 Nov 2026 18:45:42 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: @digi-me ## [PhotoFeed Contest - Wildlife Photography #195 : Colorful ](https://peakd.com/hive-153349/@digi-me/photofeed-contest-wildlife-photography-195)

_{Discovered in PhotoFeed}

Image Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @jheroldius
Street Art #933 Legal Wall De Rouen (June 2026 Part V), Montreal

_{Discovered in StreetArt}

Image: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @riverflows ## [I am Not Knitter](https://peakd.com/hive-127911/@riverflows/i-am-not-knitter)
_{Discovered in NeedleWorkMonday}

Image Author's own image

Featured Creative: @popurri ## [ Nonfiction/A Lost Career (Eng/Esp)](https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@popurri/nonfictiona-lost-career-engesp)
_{Discovered in the Inkwell Community}

Image: Generated by Canva AI

Featured Creative: @joyce152218 ## [Beyond the Dog Park: The "Method Wars" and What They Reveal About Us](https://peakd.com/hive-125125/@joyce152218/beyond-the-dog-park-the-method-wars-and-what-they-reveal-about-u-mwdl3u55ad0850eb)
_{Discovered in Town Square}

Image: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @multifacetas ## [Owl 🦉 on an aluminum ring🔗♻//Búho 🦉 en anilla de aluminio🔗♻](https://peakd.com/hive-127911/@multifacetas/owl-on-an-aluminum-ringbuho-en-anilla-de-aluminio)
_{Discovered in NeedleWorkMonday}

Credit: Author's own image

Featured Creative: @seki1
The Berus Show

_{Discovered in the Inkwell Community}

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The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #58 ~ Fiction or Creative Nonfiction

theinkwell — Tue, 10 Nov 2026 05:57:42 GMT

![pexels-anntarazevich-5425604.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/theinkwell/23xAie8f6v5bAsZRDeMyDhXy9mzmu9mPfe4X4jUzmPygCPRzp3Db5qXMLW32sJcxCBjVS.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).

UPDATED NOVEMBER 2026: IMPORTANT NOTES TO BE CONSIDERED FOR CURATION
If you want to be curated, you must follow these rules:

You must have an introductory post on your blog with an image of yourself. (Note that challenges to our staff's resources are constantly increasing. We need to know you're a human, and have positive intent for your involvement in the Hive platform and The Ink Well.)
You must produce original content. Use your own words, not an AI tool, to write your story. And do not use editing tools like Grammarly to revise your writing. Grammarly and ChatGPT should be used to catch spelling or grammar errors, not to rewrite what you wrote.
You must read and comment on the work of two other community members for each story you publish in The Ink Well. 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.
You must include one of these tags on your post:

Fictional stories from your imagination: #fiction
Creative nonfiction stories from your life experiences: #creativenonfiction

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

Want to Be Successful in The Ink Well? Check Out These Resources Before Posting.

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:

Read 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.

Last Week's Winning Story of the Week

Thank you to everyone who shared a story for the last prompt, "Better Luck Next Time"!

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 @geila for her story, Failed Mission.

Here's what our curators had to say:

@geila's story is one of the most original imaginative pieces I have read in a long time. She draws us quickly into a world of little green people. She inserts those people into a suburban American home. Oh the chaos that ensues! The barking dog. The delighted child. The grandmother ready to defend family and earth from the alien menace. The poor little green fellow takes off in horror, his mission to retrieve a lost object abandoned in the madness. I could easily see this plot worked out in a cartoon, or brief children's movie. Delightful!

Congratulations, @geila!

Short Story Writing Prompt of the Week

This week's prompt is: "A little note."

How many times throughout our lives do we send notes via text message, email, or a hand-written note, perhaps on a postcard, on a notepad, a family notice board, or a grocery list?

Notes can be insignificant or meaningful. They can be easy to understand or confusing. If the person leaving the note is in a rush, the note might not make sense at all. This idea alone can turn into multiple interesting story lines!

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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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