Welcome to Complete the stories training resource. Here, we will paste the beginning of some short stories and you can enlarge them to get to be a full story. It is a common practice in Literature creation courses. You can add your own beginnings by clicking the appropriate template in the genre you choose. It is suggested that you make a new article with the story and link it from here, like Setting Dusk. Let's begin:


Vampire bitesEdit

It was dark. Vlad was quickly recovering consciousness. He could not remember anything very well. The last thing he did remember was having an intimate moment with his new girlfriend, Karen. After that, he fell asleep, with a strange euphoria and a sense of being drugged. Still feeling lightheaded, he tried to shake it off the sensation, but he was unable to do so. Meanwhile, he spent his time recalling what had happened. He could hazily recall his girlfriend going out and after a short while she came back. At that moment, she had bitten him, as if she were hungry or thirsty for something. At last, Vlad woke up with a sharp stinging pain on his neck. There was a lot of blood and the vile taste of the crimson liquid was in his mouth. Hastily, he looked himself in the mirror and found the hard truth; he had been bitten by his own girlfriend! Now, he would become a vampire if that was what she was.

Completed Stories:

  1. Setting Dusk by Fythring

Science FictionEdit


An acrostic perhaps?



If you don't know what that is, my example of a way to fill the blank spaces: Harder than Talc

Lost in TimeEdit

It was dark, darker than he could ever see. This was the darkness of the void, as he was now out of our known universe, a place called Metaverse. A place thought to have existed beyond the Big Quantum Singularity. He, who had the alias of Ormuz in the project, felt anxious, and afraid. Afraid of the ever present darkness around him. He could not see anything. He could not even blink because he did not feel his eyes. He was unable to feel his eyes, his head or his body. He felt he had no physical body at all, like floating in the emptiness of the void. The equations and the model they had carefully created had not prepared him for this. It was the most peculiar and strangest thing on the world, or out of this world, called the Metaverse, because he was out of the universe. He was on a place that no human had been before. He was very much like Yuri Gagarin, the first man ever to visit outer space. Ormuz was the first human out of universe and out of time.

They had a plan. The mission was simple. They had found a way to send objects to the Metaverse by opening wormholes. Those are like two way holes in which matter can pass through and exit in another part of the universe or time. Unfortunately, they found that the transmission of matter and information was not instantaneous, as with entangled particles. The objects exited to some unknown place and then went back to the real world at a random position in time. At first, the scientists had discovered a way to travel back to time, not to the future neither to distant stars. Nevertheless, it was the greatest discovery of humanity, maybe only comparable to the discovery of relativity and quantum mechanics.

More SciFiEdit


Taken from Sea City. Maybe other people can write a complete different story from these parts.

The camera approaches Sea City, Florida, in a lonely neighborhood. Nobody is seen on the street and a distant sound of laughter is heard. The sun is up and it's very warm in that place. Suddenly, the camera zooms in on a house panning around to the backyard.

George Black: "Are you sure you want to do it?"

Edwina Black: "Yes, of course. Why not?" (she winks).

Edwina: "Well, you know, people could see us."

George: "That's the nicest part."

They make love on their courtyard.

A masked duo slip quietly over the fence...

Noches de luna llenaEdit

Después de veinte minutos de espera, Karen apareció. Estaba hermosa, según Vlad. Vestía ropa informal. La observó como si nunca la hubiera visto: era de estatura mediana, un poco morena, llevaba unas gafas oscuras, aún de noche, tenía el pelo completamente negro y caminaba con aplomo. Se abrazaron y besaron como de costumbre y se dirigieron al cine.

-Llevaba casi media hora esperándote – dijo Vlad.
-Lo siento, es que salí tarde de la universidad, tuve una reunión con el grupo para preparar la exposición – dijo Karen.
-Está bien. Bueno, de todas formas llegaremos a tiempo. ¿Qué película quieres ver?
-No sé. Alguna de terror: con muertos vivientes, hombres lobo o vampiros.
-Licantropía…Tú siempre con tus gustos góticos. Entonces que sea lo que tú quieras.
-Bueno, pero qué es licantro… esa cosa…
-Es el arte de convertirse en un animal como un murciélago (vampiro) o un lobo, aunque también en otros, creo.
-Ah, entonces veamos algo así. O si quieres ver otra cosa…
-Te voy a dejar escoger a ti esta vez. Si yo escogiera, veríamos una de ciencia ficción, pero no son muy buenas las películas de ese tipo. Prefiero los libros.
-Tú siempre tan estudioso, está bien. Mira, ya llegamos.

Hicieron la fila para entrar y mientras tanto tuvieron que darle limosna a un par de vagos que les pidieron dinero. Era mejor darles unas monedas y no arriesgarse a que desataran su ira. Hacía bastante frío y se abrazaban para calentarse. Vlad se preguntaba por qué Karen nunca se quitaba las gafas de sol, ni siquiera por la noche. Tal vez era una costumbre adquirida con los años, aunque ella era bastante joven. Ella tenía 17 años y Vlad 24. Vlad observó de nuevo la ciudad: era bastante deprimente. Si algún día pudiera irse, así fuera para la tierra donde Karen vivía antes... Ella se había mudado a Prego para poder estudiar en la universidad. Estaba estudiando licenciatura en preescolar. Sin embargo, se mudó sola, sin su familia, porque ellos tenían que seguir trabajando la hacienda que poseían. Vivía donde una prima llamada Patricia.



Thomas looked all around. He did not remember having been there. Where was he? It looked like a hospital, everything was so clean and there was a soft smell in the environment. There were strange lights out there... Oh, it was Christmas, of course. Everybody was enjoying silly color lights. But, why was he there? He felt a shudder and then panicked. He remembered it all. He was there again. After so much time, finally, he had had to go back in there. Who knows for how long. He tried to wake up from his bed. He could not. He was tied to it and had a serum injection on his left hand. All he could do was wait, wait, wait...

It seemed he had been drugged. He felt he could not stay awake for too long. Well, he was feeling a warm, kind sensation on all of his body. His mind was trying to get unconscious. He felt a softness in his head, as if everything was loose. He did not even feel the pain on his limbs; he was peaceful now. Maybe he could cure someday... he was tired of being ill. But he could not remember why he was there. It all had begun with a semi-epileptic seizure and then he was there. They tried to do an examination but he did not remember what happened next. He could not remember anything at all now, all was so easy and nice. He felt he was floating.


"What's up retard?"

Oh shit not this again. He peek around and go around real smooth. The girls had a nickname for him in school. Big Jim, they used to say. Around here things only get bigger. I look ahead and figure he get bored and go away. No, I've made myself too easy a target.

"You can stop pissing yourself, I only came to give you this message"

He leave a leaf of paper on the table and I don't even give the satisfaction of looking at that. Anyway he leave through the only door and once it shut i check the paper. Of course, no message. Just about typical. And then, with a flicker of my nose, I realize the bitch that's been made on me. Oslo. The back of my brain starts to tingle. That monkey-fucker Jim slip me a death message. I run my good finger through the crease of the now unfolded paper and its white residew begins a float around the room. I guess it was The Nigger that put him up to it. Always eyeballing me at the slop. They call him The Nigger because he lost all his pigment.

As Big Jim going up the hall decides on leaving me. Something enter his thoughts and start acting on a transmission:

"Christ. I'm just the janitor. It makes me mighty nervous when I get called on to deliver messages. Especially to a guy as weird as him. And he's always eyeing me funny. Like I've said something to offend him. That little office of his at the end of the hallway. Jeeze. Gives me the creeps. And if he's important enough to get his own room, why do they have him on such an old, shitty computer? He's got to be related to one of the higher ups."

Big Jim's thoughts are put to words for illustrative purposes. Big Jim continues up the hall now shifting his thoughts his son's baseball game.

Then the vision leave me. Sure. He act all innocent in his mind, but out in the air where it counts I know the truth. And I keep it all here on this machine. The fuzzy white feeling fade from my brain. Maybe the monkey fucker wasn't lying. This whiteness that tingle over me in such involuntary fashion. Messages. From the halls of the office building. Jim obviously not the brightest, but he got a point. I regain the ability to move, so I'm not dead. No. But somethings diferent. I go back to the paper but the powder's gone. Now it just blank without even the slightest. The Nigger himself plan, or Big Jim right along in his own private thoughts: I'm just the trash at the end of the hall.



With a tired expression on his face, looking at the obscure pictures on top of a make-shift dresser, Belvedere took a long drag on his wooden pipe and let out a thick smoke curl out through his nostrils. Somehow it helped cover up the stench of rotten flesh which choked the room. Any other person would just refuse to be in the immediate area or might even throw-up just before entering the room. There were no windows to open, and the foul odor had been building for some weeks before it caught the attention of the surrounding neighbors.

He glanced again at the decomposing corpse lying on the bed. She was young. Her ivory-white throat had been cut wide open. A pool of blood had congealed in thick clots on top of the cheap nylon comforter she was lying on. To the untrained eye, it might appear that she had been slain on her bed, but looking back at the floor, there was a thin trail of blood leading from approximately the center of the room towards the bed.

Beyond that distracting detail, a second question caused him to worry: when the paramedics tried to enter the room, they had to force the door open. They found the key still in the lock of the door.

Everything indicated the crime had been performed by a professional. There were many questions struggling to gain his attention: Why was she killed? And the obvious one: Who killed her? Although the scene was not the usual you find related to killing for love, that hypotheses could not be sorted out yet. He tried to clear his mind from misconceptions or opinions about the scene. He needed to watch it and analyze it without prejudices. He gave another tired look at the room, trying not to think about anything at all... just watch if there was something else that should not be there. Something out of order would sometimes be the key to solving this sort of case.


Ancient Tale Edit

I know the color of the earth deep below its surface and hear the deep bellowing voices of the stones. Sometimes they speak to me in the darkness in those basal notes and tremors which keeps me awake. They tell me old histories, repeated to them by things long dead and buried, some of them now numbered amongst the stones and earth. I copied many of them onto pages, scraps pulled hastily from the floor in the dead of night, in which I later transcribed into a binded manuscript, a long volume which I called the Book of Old Things.

There were many secrets kept deep below the earth, ancient tales from the ages long before man. There were stories of when Ka-Gol ruled the earth, with his hordes of lizard-men, and of the powerful Bragi, whose tears formed the oceans, and others from before the time when there were names.

Soon I would be in the light again, my journey complete. The Book of Old Things would take its place in my new life. The lessons it contains obscured from my understanding. I feared that I would fail, as so many of my brethren had done before me. Bragi's tears came from fear. He was powerful but never believed it would be enough to save his kind. His only failing was understanding that the tears, and the oceans they created were the downfall of his kind. I feared that a path of doubt would prove to also be my downfall.

Crime DramaEdit

Five KillingsEdit

Written in a journalist style

Five Killings is the name of five murders perpetrated on April 10th, 2008. The five were brutally tortured prior to dying. The cause of their death has not been found yet, but police is pressing physicians to accelerate the autopsy process. It is thought that they were poisoned or killed with a special device. For the way the killings were made, some crime specialists have agreed that it could be a type of "ritual murder" that ancient crime secret societies practiced on their enemies.

There is not enough evidence to link the killings to Gerard A. Wallace but the familiars of the dead people claim that he was the one who "gave the order" to kill them. As organized crime seemed to have disappeared, this has astonished many people on this land.

Dead people

  • Victor Martin
  • Jerry Morton
  • Mortimer Woolf
  • Frederick Stacey
  • Peter Stacey

The last two were brothers. The five were on a meeting held on a restaurant called "The Last Meal". None of them had had problems with the law. Two of them were scientists.

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