iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 22/10/2025

A pre-war speech from Darion La Valette. Taken from my old fantasy novel that will probably never see the light of day. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

My men do not fear the blades of fallacy.
My men do not tremble at the sight of the armies of heresy.
My men do not kneel and crawl, for they are neither fodder nor thrall.
Steel your hearts as we march, let their screams reach the stars.
Men, let’s show them how the Kingslayers charge!

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 20/10/2025

Hello everybody, been a while. I was hibernating from social media to finish my WIP and i finally did. Now i am discovering how this whole beta reading thing works. From my finished draft: A Monster's Lullaby. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

A lonely house nestled between the trees, camouflaged by roots and leaves. Vines coiled up its sides, clutching the boarded windows, while the roof sagged beneath broken branches and a colony of bird nests.

Marcia lowered the map, pistol drawn. Her boot hit the porch step, wood groaning. The door hung ajar, leaking earthy rot and the dense choke of decay.

She swallowed a gag and nudged the door wider with the barrel of her gun. Switching her flashlight on, Marcia’s beam swept over a table set for one. Mismatched utensils sat next to a plate bloated with rot. A torn ration packet marked “Westfield Camp” leaned against the plate, its moldy contents leaking sludge into the wood.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 06/10/2025

From my finalized first draft of the novel: A Monster's Lullaby. When Camila woke up to a burning street and smoky sky, her mother tasked her to gather only what matters and meet her downstairs. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 10/09/2025

Does it make sense without context? Probably not. Would that stop me from posting it? well... #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 05/09/2025

I've always wondered how far can I push a certain voice in the narrative? like, did i go a little bit overboard with the pros in his snip for example? #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

When they entered the room, the emergency lights spilled through the openings, lining the walls with jagged contours of claws, hunched figures, and twisted limbs. Hale couldn’t tell if they were beasts, or tricks of a brain drowning in cortisol and adrenaline, his amygdala hijacking perception into a survivalist’s nightmare.
The facility groaned—metal shifting, doors rattling, the unseen pressing against the structure like the whole place was breathing.
An event was unfolding on the edge of Hale’s peripherals.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 04/09/2025

I've been off social media for over a week now. Life's been crazy, but here we are, back in the game and with a snip that slaps. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

As Zero picked up the mug, the drink wobbled, spilling fresh lines, dripping onto the floor.
It was still warm. Still tasted the same?
She sipped.
Weak bitterness. Dull sourness. It was thin, and shallow, like water that loved coffee so much it started imitating. It’s rich, brave flavour was reduced to a faded memory.
Zero stuck out her tongue. A chalky aftertaste clung to her mouth.
The Caretaker had made her a cup before. But the only thing they shared was the name.
This Coffee must have died.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 19/08/2025

Here's more of the omniscient narrator idea. Wondering if you like the voice. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Connie trapped the trap beneath the trapdoor— so that anyone who traps the handle between his fingers and yanks, would get trapped in the trapezoid-shaped room.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 18/08/2025

Here's a synonym to one of the meanings of a word that has many meanings. What a twist. #Writesky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WIPSnips

Rigel wiped the blood streaming from his nose. He straddled toward the king, every step carving the smile on his lips wider. "Last time when you had me on my knees, i did it because my legs failed me. But now?"
He rested his hand on the King's shoulder. "You'll do it submissively."
Rigel leaned in, whispering in the man's ears. "Kneel."

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 16/08/2025

Something on the fly for today because i am going to work and i'll stay at work for the rest of the day. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Lucy jumped back. Her boot caught on a tangle of wires, and she crashed to the floor.

"Impossible!" She muttered, gaze fixed on the figure passing through the entrance. "We killed you."

"Aw... cute." Alex stepped into the light, crouching to meet her eyes. "Did no one tell you? I am allergic to death."

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 15/08/2025

Little nightmares is a spectacular game. Ever since i finished it, i've had that idea of a horror story written from an omniscient POV with the voice being somewhat similar to old tales. The story structure has to be unique though. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

As darkness yawned, the shadows took shape. Black fingers crawled down the walls, edging toward Connie’s face.

Fear was adamant. Death was imminent. Panic carved into the wrinkles across her skin, threading through bone and marrow.

But yonder, a spark of light. The gleam of a razor’s edge.

A sword.

A saviour.

Or was it?

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 12/08/2025

Ever stared down an abandoned elevator shaft? Well, after this one, i don't think you would. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

A hand.

It rose from the darkness—long, bony, veined with pulsing threads of muted green. Its bones stretched unnaturally as if they had gone through substantial growth. Pale skin hugged the knuckles in a suffocating grip, splitting at the joints—cracked like the flesh couldn’t accommodate the size.

Long, curved nails—chipped and blackened—clicked against the iron as the fingers curled slowly, gripping the edge of the elevator frame with enough force it made the metal groan.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 10/08/2025

Flowers are pretty... as long as you don't screw with the poisonous ones. Know your flowers. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

“You’re one of a kind, Hale.” Lydia said.

“And you have gray eyes. They’re… beautiful.” Hale gazed straight into them.

“The compliment isn’t the point, is it?” she asked, narrowing her beautiful eyes.

“Ever seen a belladonna? Elegant flower. Deadly toxin. Beauty often hides danger, Dr. Lydia.”

A rush of heat swept through Lydia’s body—equal parts alarm and disorientation. This complete stranger called her by name—and added the correct title.

She reached for her waist—no pistol.

Her heart miscalculated a beat.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 07/08/2025

It's a synonym today... kind of. same meaning different feeling. This one is from the chapter i am currently working on

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 06/08/2025

let's follow the trend of comedic moments. This got to be one of my favorites. Taken from my old fantasy project. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Rigel traced his fingers over the Vigil river on the map. “We”ll move our fleet, loop around the Marrow and gun the fields of wheat— shake the very ground beneath these bastards feet.” Rigel slammed a knife into the map. “Let’s see how that dipshit Criss will compete.”

“Neat.” Trevor murmured from the corner.

Rigel glanced at the faces around him. “Any questions?”

Emily raised her hand slowly.

Rigel rolled his eyes, sighing. “What?”

“Why is everyone rhyming?”

“Son of a bitch.” Rigel kicked the chair behind him. “Any questions about the plan? No? Good. Now leave.”

He jabbed his pointer at Emily. “Especially you.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 05/08/2025

Here's something lighter than the grim collection of depression that i post every day. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

“Oh, I haven’t introduced you yet,” Marco said, gesturing to the group with a lazy sweep. He pointed one by one.
“That’s my sister, Marcia. If she’s not punching things she’s shooting things. That’s Camila, she’s a songbird. That’s healing Hale, he… well, heals.”
Then his hand landed on the last person. “And that’s Lydia.”
He lingered. Their eyes locked for a beat too long. That juvenile grin crept on his face. “She’s the no-fun, no-nonsense, perpetually annoyed character who grates on everyone’s soul so bad she sends them spiraling into a slow psychological breakdown, which pours into Hale’s career by filling his clinic with people suffering from PTSD.”
He paused, catching his breath.
Marcia slapped him across the chest.
“Ow—okay! Fine. She’s the boss. Whatever.”

He waved a dismissive hand, shaking his head. “What I said conveyed the same meaning anyway.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 03/08/2025

Here's a fun one. The voice is a character that i could just sit and read his dialogue forever and wouldn't get bored. Do you think he's just a trick of Alex's brain? or something else? #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

“Come on Alex, don’t be such a pushover. Crying won’t make it better.” A man’s voice echoed throughout the bedroom.

Alex flung his head up. “What? Who is this?”

“looking for me? You’re looking in the wrong direction friend. I am in here.” The voice rang out from everywhere at once.

Alex swept a nervous gaze around the room, but darkness and furniture were the only residents.

“Told you. I am inside.”

“Inside my head?” Alex knit his eyebrows. “Oh… you’re just another hallucination from the garbage collection that’s been haunting me lately.”

“Those are not hallucinations Alex. And I promise you, I am very real… right? I mean crazies who see their deceased mother hanging at the edge of their door think she’s of flesh and bone. So real is relative, but I digress.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“That’s a difficult question. You see, I don’t really remember a thing.” He paused. “But ah, how would you address me then? After all, I am staying here a while. So, how about this? to make communication between us easier, you can call me voice. I am currently without a body… yet.”

“So first I have visions, and now I hear voices? Great. Just great. I am going to go sleep.”

“But why? Let’s stay here and enjoy the scenery of the couch.” The voice suggested.

“What are you going to comment on everything now?”

“Not to your liking?”

“Who likes living with a commentator inside their head?”

“Everyone has a voice inside their head Alex. The voice of self, the voice of reason, of guilt, and many more. But the voice inside your head? Well…” He broke into a loud laughter, one that resounded through Alex’s skull like a death knell. “I think your brain is following a… different trend.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 01/08/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting I tried to pick a passage that uses the word in an unconventional scenario. I don't think i succeeded.

Alex flicked the coin skyward, light glinting off its spinning surface. He caught it mid-fall and slammed it to the table, trapping the coin beneath his hand.

“Heads, you live. Tails?” Alex smirked. “You already know where this is going.”

Bernard stared at Alex’s hand, lips trembling, sweat tracing down his pale, twitching face. “Just… get it over with.”

Alex peeled his hand away with mock sympathy. “Ah… tough break. Tails again. That’s depressing.”

“That’s five times in a row!” He snatched the coin, flipping it over. Tails on both sides.

“What the hell is this?” Bernard hissed. “You rigged it!”

“Are you dense?” Alex leaned in, “Death is a certainty. You’re the one trying to cheat it.”

His voice dropped to a near whisper. “If you weren’t dumb, you’d have known. The game was rigged from the start.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 31/07/2025

I like how Marcia's voice is never just stating facts about how things look, but rather trying to find a reason as to how things ended up the way they are. Really fun character to write. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

They reached the second floor. The double doors loomed ahead—but Marcia veered off, brow furrowed
The stairwell was gone.
Her beam skittered over the wreckage—steps ending in a one-floor drop. Dust and debris teetered over the edge, trickling down in echoing thuds.
Chunks of concrete and twisted rebar blanketed the lower level, burying the staircase in a collapsed sea of rubble.
“Holy…” Marco gasped. “Do you have any idea how much firepower it takes to do that?”
Marcia crouched at the edge, tracing her light over the jagged remains. Symmetrical pockmarks cratered the concrete, radiating outward from focal points along the support beams.
C4 satchels. No doubt.
The signs screamed professionalism. Military-grade, or someone who’d aced their EOD classes
The charges were planted at the structure’s weakest points—engineered to bring the entire stairwell down with a single flick of a detonator.
But why?
Escape? Unlikely. No professional would sabotage their own way out.
A means of defense? Could be answer to a raid. But the claw marks gouged into the walls… the brutality of the chaos. This wasn’t a raid. People don’t bite through steel.
Containment? The word crept into her mind uninvited. They took the stairwell down to keep something in.
Something that couldn’t climb.
Or something that shouldn’t climb.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 30/07/2025

Late again (life's crazy) but here's today's dose of mysterious excerpts. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

He stood at the end of the street, a black coat shrouding the steel cane clutched in hand. He leaned on it so precariously it looked like he were peeking from behind a wall. A hoodie cloaked his head, casting a shadow over his face, where pupils—burning velvet—tracked my every step. Yet the rest of his body hadn’t so much as twitched.

A child dashed past his left. A woman strode by his right. No one looked. No one waved. No one bumped. They always—always—left just enough space, never once brushing even the edge of his coat.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 29/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting Here's what Maverick—the high commander of the hunters—has to say about the proposed peace with the mages. Also going with a synonym today to shake it up a bit.

“Peace? With them?” Maverick chuckled softly. “There can never be true equilibrium as long as one side is jumping at every chance to tip the scales. Opposites don’t mix, and the only way prey can truly thrive, is by becoming the apex predator.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 28/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting I am thinking of querying this novel. But at the same time self-publishing is enticing. Anyway, here's today's "Trash."

The city was dead. Not from bombs, fire, or even war. It died of abandonment.
Cars lay like corpses in the aftermath of a battlefield—windows shattered, tires rotted flat. Trash swirled in miniature cyclones against the sidewalks. A child’s tricycle lay overturned—its red plastic frame split in two, one wheel groaning with each spin.

Darkened houses flanked the road, their towering shadows stretching across the moonlit street.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 26/07/2025

What's portrayed rarely tells the truth. Midst people, Rigel is a ruthless, rude piece of shit. But solocity is where the cracks start to show. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Another drop slipped from the jagged ceiling and splashed onto Rigel’s lashes. The ninety-seventh.

His back was numb, imprinted by the rough stone wall behind him. He shifted, but an inch was all he could manage, as if his muscles had bailed out of his command. Like everyone else.

Commander Rigel Brown—unable to order even his own limbs.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 25/07/2025

Alex is my favorite character I've ever written and will probably continue to be. I don't think the scene needs any elaboration. Did i mention Alex is my favorite? #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

“Why don’t you take in the view, Jessica?” Alex gestured toward the window beside him, his voice calm—too calm.

Jessica leaned toward the glass. From this height, the world was insignificant. Below, crooked houses sprawled in chaos—mismatched, unorganized. Like different liquids in a mixing cauldron.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“The slums?”

“Exactly.” Alex jabbed a finger toward the mess of houses. “Look, Jess. Poor people. The perfect breeding ground for parasites like you to thrive.”

He stomped against the epoxy floor. “Step on them, like you always have.”

Jessica’s skin prickled as Alex pressed a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face upward until her gaze met the sky. “Use them as pillars.” he whispered. “Climb higher. Reach out for the stars.”

He moved behind her, thumb digging into the back of her skull. “Just make sure you don’t trip.”

Alex pressed harder, tilting her head downward. He whistled a long, descending note, like something plummeting from orbit.

As the chaotic sprawl of rooftops rushed back into view, his whistle ended with a sudden splash— a body hitting water.

“And smack your face against a puddle of piss.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 24/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting Here's another snip from my old fantasy book. Rigel (who is a monster hunter) is running after something sentient (and slightly telepathic).

Rigel rammed into the door, shoulder first. The hinges snapped, and the wood banged onto the floor. Dust puffed, drifting into his throat with every drawn breath.

The door groaned as he stepped on the it, his flashlight beam catching swarms of swerving dust, floating in every direction.

“I know you’re there.” He rasped, boots meeting a concrete floor.

Eyes gleamed across the room, a purple pair. Then, a grin. Wide and toothy. But It wasn’t the teeth that chilled Rigel. It was the knowing.

Like it peeked inside his memories, and laughed at what it found. No, not laughter. It was mockery.

That thing was gloating. Wasn’t it?

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 22/07/2025

Oh, boy. That's a good one. I have a lot of needles in my book. There are many scenes that i could have posted, but I think this one takes the cake. Taken from a chapter titled: Take the Needle Tony. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

The flame sparked to life. Its faint orange glow danced across the floor — too weak for the massive hallway, but more than enough to wash Marco in relief.
He let out a shaky breath, then turned to the woman beside him — a triumphant grin crossing his face.
Her eyes locked onto his, glistening — in awe of his cleverness, no doubt.
He swayed the lighter. The flame caught on a metal beam.
He raised the flame higher — and decaying fingers grazed his hand. He nearly screamed, but the woman caught his mouth, muffling the gasp.
It was a corpse — sprawled on a wheeled iron bed, tucked beneath a blood-soaked sheet. Its hand hung limply from under the cover.
Marco swept the flickering light across the corpse. Countless needles pierced its flesh — plungers jutting out like pinheads in a pincushion.
A word was scrawled in blood across the sheet. Jagged, letters tangled: TONY.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 21/07/2025

A little late on today's post but better late than never. Going with the synonym today. Also, this is probably one of if not my favorite character in the novel. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Richard sat hunched in his office, fingers clicking against the wooden desk, measuring seconds with each tap.

His hair—black, thinned to near disintegration—draped over restless eyes. Sweat—warm and relentless—soaked into the collar of his pristine white lab coat.

He scanned the clutter: glass apparatuses, packets of black coffee, scattered papers. His gaze halted on Haven’s flag, hanging beside a dented locker—its name encased within a silver shield, strapped to a sterile blue field.

Richard sighed and wiped his forehead. He raised his wristwatch to eye level. 7:58 AM.
Still no word from the evacuation.

He reached for the coffee mug lying on the table. His gold-engraved wedding ring clinked against the ceramic. R X M, was etched onto it, letters faded, circled by a red heart.
Lipstick clung to the rim—faint, imperfect.

He chuckled, lips finding the stained edge.

The coffee had gone cold. No sugar. No cream. Pure bitterness —maximum efficiency.

Caffeine: a crude, but reliable stimulant. An enemy of adenosine that sharpens cortical processing—albeit, temporarily.

Addictive. Necessary

But damn, it’s the closest thing to magic in science.

The headache subdued, each throb more diluted than it’s predecessors. It shouldn’t have kicked in yet—the effect takes time.
But faith is part of its mechanism.

Believe in it’s prowess, and the brain will attest.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 20/07/2025

This one is a fun idea where i challenged myself to write a short story using all the words in this week's #WIPSnips. Trivia: 1: The red spider lily is associated with death in Japanese culture. 2: The name Hana in Japanese means flower. #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

The store was dead silent, the lights off—out cold, like it had been knocked unconscious. Except for the one chair behind the register, whining at Arthur’s slightest movements.
He leaned on the counter, staring blankly at the yellow note taped there by the owner:
Dear Arthur. DO NOT TOUCH FOOD WITHOUT PAYING. Thank you.

Arthur crumpled the note and tossed it behind him, jaded at such a petty attitude.
His father had forgotten him in a store once. He spent the night choking on strawberry juice and running a contest between him, and himself: how many Doritos could he fit in a single bite? They found him the next morning, curled up beside the ice cream fridge.
He wore that memory like a badge. But this job? He was wrong to think it would be the same. This was depressing. At best.

A sharp crack rang out from the store’s far-left section, followed by the rumble of glass, and iron, crashing to the floor. Arthur’s heart leapt—and his body followed, springing upright. The chair toppled with a bang, and his knee slammed into the counter, shooting a flail of electric jolts through his leg.

“Damn it,” he muttered, holding onto a security monitor— nearly knocking it over.

He glanced at the shadow-swallowed aisles and the rows of gondola shelves. The noise had stopped, but there was no hope of finding the source without strolling through a maze of blind spots, searching for a murderer. Probably. Screw that.

Arthur turned to the monitors, flipping through the feeds—until he paused on aisle seven.
A woman stood motionless, arms crossed, her face angled away from the camera. She stared at the floor, where a bottle cap lay in a pool of liquid and sprinkled glass. An extravagant scarlet dress clung to her body, its collar adorned with a spider lily of the same shade of red. He’d seen that dress before. The owner wore it the day of his interview.

What was she doing here?

Seconds crawled by, yet the woman didn’t move. The feed would’ve looked frozen—if not for a can of tuna ro…

“Hana. You came for a night guard interview, yes?” she replied. “I’m calling to say I’ve accepted. You can start tomorrow.”

“WHAT?” he roared, eyes snapping to the security monitor. The woman stared back—Asian features etched onto an enchanting face. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but beyond it. As if she could see him through the screen.

“Something wrong, Mr. Arthur?”

“You’re staring at me through the feed of a store I’ve worked at for three days. You tell me what’s wrong.”

“But I am at home.”

“Then who is this? Your twin?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

Arthur grabbed the keychain dangling under the counter. “I don’t care, alright? Find yourself a pickled cucumber to guard the store—I’m leaving.”

The woman’s confused voice dwindled as he shoved his phone into his pocket and vaulted over the counter. The keys clinked and clattered as he rummaged through them with trembling fingers, searching for the one that unlocked the exit. He reached the front door, slid in the key, and twisted. Clink. He wrenched the handle and slammed into the door—shoulder first.

Spice choked the air, burning through his nostrils and trickling down his throat. It came from a bottle of brown sauce, spilled across a tiled floor. Arthur knit his brows and scanned his surroundings.

A can of tuna sat in the corner, streaked with red liquid.
Ahead stretched a long corridor, flanked by looming shelves.
At the far end stood the owner—red-painted nails tracing the tiny legs of her rose brooch.
She stared Arthur dead in the eyes. This wasn’t the street. This was aisle seven.
She strode toward him, bare toes slipping out beneath her dress with every step.
Arthur backed away—only to slam into a cold wall. The exit door was gone.
His leg trembled, bouncing up and down, heels pounding at the floor.

“Hey... what... what the hell do you want from me?”

She pointed a pincer toward Arthur. A thumb to herself, before bringing two fingers together. Then, she grinned.

Ear to ear.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 20/07/2025

Hmm, so i have two posts today. This one is the usual, taken from my current WIP: A Monster's Lullaby. For the sake of clarification, Pandora is a virus. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

It crept.
Not along the floor. Not across the walls.
But beneath the flesh.
Marcia sank into the cracking leather of the driver’s seat, rubbing her hands together—friction against panic.
It dulled sometimes. But never left.
Her gaze flicked to her fingers—dark veins spread from beneath the nails, curling past the knuckles.
Pandora writhed below the skin like a fresh batch of cadets in a net crawl — unpredictable, inexperienced. And atrociously slow.
Moonlight spilled through the car window, brushing the Glock hooked to Marcia’s belt.
On the passenger seat, her backpack sat swollen—crammed with ammo, papers, rations, and one last hope. Literally.
She pulled a tactical glove over the infection, cinching the straps, smothering her wrist to numbness. If only pressure could halt the inevitable march.
She snatched the bag, opened the car door, and stepped into the street.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 19/07/2025

I decided to post something that leans more on the romantic side for a change. (I kind of suck at so you’ll have to excuse me.) Also, i am cooking up something a bit unique for tomorrow's word. Have a good day. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Hale swept a lazy gaze across the cramped room—until it caught on Lydia, lying in bed.

She looked up. Storm-gray eyes held onto his—and a current shot through his skin, like he were zapped.

Those wide pupils hummed a silent tune that pulsed in his skull, as if they were communing directly to his nerves.

He searched for a way to flee. But his body stood stubborn—charmed out of will. Her eyes refused to let go.

Lydia furrowed her brow, lips parting in a whisper he didn’t hear.

A flicker of pink touched her cheeks. Then, mercifully, she looked away, releasing whatever grip she had on his limbs.

The breath snagged in his throat, but he managed a ragged exhale.

However, his body was left wanting.

Damn that gray poison.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 17/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting This is light on the description but heavy on character and dialogue. (And the vibes... kind of) For context, Alice's brother died after a long battle with cancer.

The freezing wind lashed Alice’s face, but she didn’t shudder.
She stood in front of her brother’s tombstone, eyes lingering on the etched name.

One month since he left. One month and a day since Alice had last cried.

“Good morning,” she whispered. “It’s been a few days… missed me?”

She inhaled deeply, letting her lungs fill to the brim, then released it in a sharp breath.“This place gives me peace. Ironic, isn’t it? Considering it’s a home for the dead. But home is where the ones you love reside.”

She crouched. “I had another fight with Dad. He’s angry I went out with my friends yesterday. He’s been mad ever since the funeral. Says I didn’t mourn you properly.”

Her face twitched a grimace. Her pulse quickened. “They don’t understand. I’ve used up all my tears on the sorrow of your inevitable death, that by the time you… left us. I had already run dry.”

Alice sat down, leaning her head gently against the dusty stone.
“When they closed the coffin and carried you to the grave… all I felt was déjà vu. Because to me, you’d already been buried. Long before they lowered you into the ground.”

She sobbed—quiet, dry, desperate. She itched for a tear. A single one. But none came. “They don’t understand that I’ve simply grown… jaded to your loss.”

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 16/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting This is calmer than what i usually post. Somber? Sure. But still calm.

The door creaked under Redmond’s gentle push, revealing the bedroom beyond. It had been abandoned—by life, by light, by sound. They all left after Brenda. And dullness filled the void.

He looked at the nightstand, where a solitary cup of morning coffee waited—the one she had made him. The last she ever would.

The ceramic bit cold, resentful at being forgotten. The coffee was scentless, its texture murky, like stagnant water.

Redmond took a sip.

Hollow. Bitter. Washed down. And with every passing second, its taste seeped through the crevices of his mind—until its boldness was reduced to a mere faded memory.

Just like the one who made it.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 15/07/2025

Ah shit. Here we go again. Round 2, fight. After half the city went under lockdown due to a virus outbreak, Hale runs past the guards and all the way to the barricade, looking for his sister, who was stuck on the "infected" side. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Hale scanned the gaunt faces until he caught sight of his sister—her brown hair whipping in the charred gusts of wind. Tears dug grooves through the soot on her cheeks, pooling at her chin, before they leapt-- splattering upon the chain that bit her wrists together.
One drop at a time.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 15/07/2025

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting After half the city went under lockdown due to a virus outbreak, Hale runs past the guards and all the way to the barricade, looking for his sister, who was stuck on the "infected" side.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 14/07/2025

Taken from my old fantasy novel that i abandoned until further notice. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Clouds clogged the sky, the color of ink, swallowing the sunlight. Electric shocks flickered within, arcing from one cloud to the next, each leap flashing the world into a bruise-blue before it plummeted back into shadow.

Thunder rumbled, and rain cascaded in sheets, smearing the landscape into grays and blacks.

Then the lightning struck: a white bolt that cracked the ground, zapped the water, and sent sparks flying.

The Anomaly had come.

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 13/07/2025

While i do probably have "random" somewhere in my manuscript, i decided to veer off today and send something standalone for that specific word. It's longer than usual, but you could consider it a one-page short story. Cheers. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting

Frank huddled on the sofa, surrounded by the chaos of his living room. Tools lay scattered, chairs knocked to the floor, and a line of blood ran over the chaos, trailing from the front door to the trench coat that hugged Frank tightly. He rubbed at the fabric, scraping red stains with trembling fingers until the blood gathered beneath his nails. But it refused to peel.
Alex walked out of the kitchen, handing Frank a glass of lemonade. “How did it happen?” he asked.
Frank gulped half the bottle in one go. The cold liquid quenched his thirst but refused to still his quivering heart. “I killed her,” he whispered.
“I asked the how, not the what,” Alex replied, adjusting a chair. “I don’t know, okay?” Frank answered. “Everything happened very…” “Randomly?” Alex spoke calmly. The chair creaked beneath his weight.
Frank smashed the drink to the floor. “How can you be so nonchalant while I’m knee-deep in an innocent’s blood?”
“You think it was random that your gun was loaded with live bullets?” Alex answered, Pulling a bar of chocolate from his pocket. “You think it was random that the woman you stole from had a gun of her own?” He added, taking a bite, “And most importantly—think it was random you had to turn to me for… financial assistance in the first place?”
Frank swallowed, but his throat refused to cooperate. “Did you…”
Alex grinned in silence.
“Son of a bitch.” Frank surged forward. But his muscles seized, his vision blurred, and his body slammed the floor.
“Ouch,” Alex scoffed, crouching in front of Frank. “Methinks your lemonade had gone… bad. Don’t worry, spoiled lemonade doesn’t kill.”
“Why?” Frank breathed.
“With you and her gone, I get to run the business,” Alex said, still smiling. “You see, people associate strength with the power to reap. I think strength is getting people to do what you want, thinking it’s what they want.”
The distant wail of police sirens tr…

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Mohannad Sayed @ms-writes.bsky.social · 11/07/2025

Here's a little spooky passage from my manuscript with both the synonym and the ✨Vibes✨ #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #AmWriting

The silence carried sound in its folds. The ghastly type. The kind that’s too indiscriminate to pinpoint. Faint scraping. Muffled sniffing. Tiny clicks and taps. As if specters called dibs on every corner Marcia’s flashlight couldn’t reach.

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