Fiction Writing Style History

Created on September 23, 2026

Compressed (2026)
Sprawling (2025)
Signposts (2024)
Transitional Style Between Signposts and Previous Styles (2023)
Web Genre Fiction (2021)
Dreamy Intimate (2019)
Childhood (2014, 2016)

Compressed

Existential Dungeon Crawler (2026)

It curled up into my essence. I the world. I held it in my core. I was its image. The world wars within itself. I wrestle with meaning as one wrestles with themselves by their relationship with the world, life, the universe, everything. To impose is to belong. I saw myself in pictures of green and of red. Blood splattered greenery, and from there, I became myself through myself through myself in endless hallways of where-I-was, who-I-am, and by-what-manner-am-I-what-I-am that echoed into eternity and then compressed into a squeezed hand. I held Form like a drop of sweat.
The goblin gasped below me. I stomped its consciousness away.

George, Elena, and Sella (2026)

Scene 1:

Many hours later—long past the recession of rosy, ruddy, purple, and golden clouds—by 8 AM, a camp far west flickered with figures. Sella slowly put on the sweet, earthy, purple and yellow overcoat Mark had given her group. George grinned outside her tent, sporting his own from neck to knee as it sheened and held against knocks like starch. Each group member saw their name written on theirs. The overcoat designs varied, as if customized, ranging from short to long, single- to double-breasted, and one- to many-pocketed, but the same banana fiber wove them all. With Mark’s light armor, the group rasped and hissed through the morning pot-stirring gaggle. The texture of theirs etched out their group, but so did others’. On top of footwear conditions, weapon embellishments, and grooming weirdness, insignias had also sifted everyone like parchment tags. The outlines of groups broke down as members went different ways, going alone or pairing off, as officers drawn from different groups spoke to them. With all the lumpy bags banked around, pay could have gone by the weight, but everything was written on sheets plastered all over wooden posts and, for staples, boards. Water slogged up and down thicketed slopes in sealed buckets and barrels, supplying the clerk’s counting-tent. While clerks hogged the blank papers and books for the number, any actual bulletins came in cross-camp shouts started by the officers. The soft drum and tinkle of white rain milling the massive sky of the jungle drew everyone inside their flaring tents like hidden swaths, all while their overcoats rattled slightly in the breezes that slipped through their entrances. A peek out the cleft hit the nearby green, but where feathery leaves died climbing the sky, the mountains hung distant like frozen gods, as imperceptible travelers plowed through their rock scrambles. A brief walk away, in the woods, a little brook watered a hollow. Paths had yet to cut through all manner of bosk and copse, that growing ledger of strangulation. Eyes itched in the sting of dappled sweat and leafage. The sooner wagons seamlessly rolled, the faster sacks traveled and the less people struck off with their bodies all twiggy and clammy. Where waters burst all over them, a bridge built across and far from the shingle deposits could be a place to dry off. Some time after the splattering rain let up, in the midst of the homely tents, a few ruddy boys and girls pattered and cut capers around, dashing rainwater at each other from their cupped hands.

Scene 2:

Another gush of smoke crept up into the air, and worn-nailed green hands freed swords from pitted scabbards. A hand raised, drew goblin gazes together, and fell. Guns blasted. Swords ran across the floor. A blade edge punctured into blood, dulling and smearing. “Fuck!” Armor clanked, then shattered. Eyes looked, then glazed over in the corpses that appeared. Tips ran across flesh and slid into the ground as weapons hammered and stopped each other. In helmet holes, screams reverberated. A smile crawled along George’s face when his spear poked into one of the last heaving chests. The humans went out of their way to swarm the skittering goblins.

Sprawling

Villa (2025)

His eyes drifted to the sticks at the edge of his vision. “If I was born merely to be a creature of violent habit, then what am I? Is that really what I was intended to be? Is that my purpose? To survive and to kill while I do? This isn’t right. This isn’t what I was taught. But damn what I was taught, right!? I had no reason to act differently then, but this is now. I am in some fucked-up little place where princesses and princes find love and monsters and greenies fuck people over over some random little treasure or whatever them little fuckers fuck people up for. I don’t know! I don’t have any stinkin’ clue. This isn’t… for all intents and purposes… correct. Whatever spurred me into this. If I had any part in making this situation happen, in my appearing here, please cancel it out. Use some voiding card or some shit. I don’t know what people do with anything. But please, help me out. I don’t want this. Whatever purpose you have for me, please tear it like a bus ticket, but don’t do it because you’re registering it. Do it ‘cause it’s down to the shredder and it’s gone and good. That’s all I need. That is my purpose. I decide that now. But my emotions… I feel intense right now and am clearly speaking so intensely. Does that mean that these aren’t what I truly feel and know to believe or know itself? I have no clue. Don’t ask me. No more. No more. If anything happens, I will not be able to relegate them merely to suppression. I will turn awry, and my vision will blur. And I will hate and feel putrid things that shouldn’t be felt by any person save for such extreme situations. But this ain’t even extreme. Do I deserve to feel this way? Is the ratio between my situation and my reaction fair? Am I fair for feeling the way that I do, for acting the way that I do, or for going to act the way that I’m going to do? Whatever I do now, I hope it’s decidedly worth it or justified. But what is justice? But a person saying ‘OK Jose’? I contradict myself. Yes, I do.

Signposts

Matthew (2024)

After this opponent lost his life, the goblins kept a loose wedge formation, as ordered by Matthew. To elucidate upon this, it was only one method. However, the looseness allowed them to mitigate the damage from area-of-effect skills, while the wedge aspect allowed them to keep a sharp point and mobility in the event of a suddenly vulnerable opponent. Moreover, by the use of natural obstacles and terrain contours, this formation naturally created chokepoints, funnelled opponents into awkward positions, and provided cover for its members, especially at the rear, in comparison to the more linear, man-on-man face-off provided by a line formation. This was why their wedge consisted of two layers with a front line and a back line similar to two chevrons stacked together. Regarding the terrain use, the good thing was that the arena was set in the middle of a forest-like area with sparse trees available enough to be relevant but few enough for the audience to watch with ease. To sum, this loose wedge formation was better than staying tight together or in a line formation where it was much easier to hit them from ranged area-of-effect attacks.

Mark (2024)

Meanwhile, several kilometers away, a goblin, slashing the earth, began releasing his frustration upon a stone, his arms tensing virtuously according to his God-given instincts. He was given freedom to create, and so he destroyed, shattering the constituents of matter. A rock stood in his way, and he crushed it with ease, letting his heart relish the moment of surprise. The dust-like remnants waited, and soon, the air lifted it up in swirls. The sun highlighted the goblin across the gaps in the trees.

Antipolo (2024)

Turning to a more vivid note, the environment was screaming with life in so many ways. To show some examples, five scenes came to mind. First, the sound of fresh wind maneuvered through the streets of the city like a man breaking a melon skillfully with his fingers all on their own and each acting independently. Second, the calling of two children echoed through the streets cavernously. Third, the darkness of clouds provided depth in various areas, highlighting the insufficiently lit parts of the city, showcasing its disparity of lights. Four, the compensation of the torch bearers in their quest to bring light to the darkness was a pillar of the city. Lastly, the loud noises of babies in the night time preceded the soothing humming that ran through the windows. In the end, the sound of wind, the calls of children, the dark clouds, the torch bearers’ roles contributed to the scream of the environment.

Transitional Style Between Signposts and Previous Styles

Peter (2023)

Peter turned into a 40-meter giant human briefly, a sudden displacement of hot, humid air molecules creating a shockwave. He accidentally swiped the mango tree which had shaded him off its roots. A bunch of mangoes from the tree flew, landed, and bounced like stones thrown on water, after their stems snapped apart. Some of the mangoes exploded into sludge upon impact with rock, due to over- ripeness, due to awkward landings, or a combination of these factors. Peter’s instantaneous growth and transformation caused his transformed right foot to press down against the wagon and crush it and the spirit fruits thereon. Weighty, compacted soil became brittle like thin ice under Peter’s feet, forming itself in subservience to accommodate them. His cavernous shadow made the hearts of his onlookers tremble like an accelerated overworked mechanical clock The shockwave which he had caused caused strong, hot, humid gusts of wind to rush in and fill the vacuum, sweeping everything in its path. He reverted into a human. His sudden shrinking and restoration made his body jerk backward and fall like a baby taking their first step, making a tinily cute, flat, fluffy, puffy, muffled noise upon impact. The meditative, contemplative dripping pulp of a fractured mango still attached to its stem on the fallen tree contrasted with the destruction and Peter’s laughable fall.

Web Genre Fiction

Finnessy (2021)

The catch-22 of Chloride’s life was that she was the product of great technologies built on plentiful generations of wars. She could only live her life and fight against suffering by pushing herself past known limits and accepting those limits at the same time.
The problem—she couldn’t give those who suffered in the past justice. She had the ability only to press on.
In the high-income nation of Datadam, wherein the rich and poor (which in this world and time didn’t immediately refer to the malnourished and homeless) were rarely separated, its large buildings and walls spread out like audio waves.
Many years after a large company launched a marketing campaign with government support, it was now 2062, whereat a new era equipping tech trends such as artificial intelligence, virtual and augmented reality, and nanotechnology had rooted itself deep into global society.
Chloride had been seeing these streets since she was a child, embarking at the nearest bullet train station everyday, ignoring the supersonic train that had launched recently.
When she returned home, she entered her cuddly, cute VR capsule with blankets and enough space to stretch around.
Around her, monitors that acted as “windows to different dimensions”, displaying different scenery loops, covered much of her plain true-white walls.
After she prepared herself, wearing a nasogastric tube and such, she turned on the capsule, allowing it to place her in a state similar to a coma.
Speaking of lying down without moving for long periods of time, the capsule limited users to 24 hours with a 1-week break and scanned their microchip implant, often collaborating with the microchip’s personal health inspector function.
In other administrative divisions, microchip implants were either illegal, optional, or only possible through expensive legal modding.
Inside the virtual universe of “Crushed Apples”, Chloride bit the cambium that she forcefully swallowed down her throat.
Fried cambium with the help of flint tools, split wood, and a chance at fire through a long period of time were her individual achievements.
Her intelligence when it came to primitive technology was very lacking, but like many others, she soon joined a bustling city that allowed her to practice prudence and boost her community’s national identity with her passions for ornamental architecture.

Dreamy Intimate

What Do I Want? (2019)

I closed my eyes gently. I could feel the night sky gazing upon my dear soul. Yes, if it wasn’t for the noise around me, I would have floated into the aery land that lies untouched by human flesh and feet.
The rain poured down. It was another one of those evenings. I could feel the light chatter of the women at the counter and the joyous bellowing of the husbandmen on their seats and out. It was indeed one of those dear nights.
Nevertheless, I had no complacency to give my existence off to such heedlessness of being.
I picked up my cup of tea as I strolled down the parking lane. It was but a magnificent experience to have my hair feeling fresh and clean.
I didn’t want to leave home like this, but I had to; the rain was too strong for me not to have danced in it a little.
I imagined myself dancing more gracefully than the songs could ever rhyme about. I was intentionally refreshing myself.
I came back home with a smile on my face. I was happy. The world looked happy. I felt peace.
What should I do to make the world a better place? Should I donate money for trees to be planted across the globe? Should I spend my time in politics as much as my mom does wherever she goes? I don’t want to be oblivious.
But I want to feel the serenity in the flowers, the leaves, the trees, and the sky. I was worried I’d forget all these things and get sucked in into work. But I found a way to make it happen; feeling good while working.
I decided to be a writer. Why? Well, here it is: “If it wasn’t for the fact that there had been people supporting me throughout these years through small talks of encouragement, I wouldn’t have ever been passionate about my work.
“Helping others experience hope is the best thing in the world. I used to think helping others was all about being happy all the time, but that wasn’t it.
“It was more on connecting with the reader’s/listener’s inner feelings and working from there. That’s what I learned from the countless stories on humanity’s fears, tragedies, betrayals, joy, and apathy.
“It was all a part of the inner world I formed for myself. This ‘writing’ thing.”
I stood up from my seat, left the row, and proceeded to exit the bus. It was a beautiful day of fulfillment: seeing my friends’ cheers in the restaurants we’ve been in was delightful.
I couldn’t bear to hold it in any longer. I had to sit down and write. I loved being outside: the serenity and all its beauty. But my inner world had so much more to tell.
Fantasy. Should I write fantasy? I meditated for a minute to see how much longer I can hold in my creative bursts.
Dragons. Dragons can be a magnificent topic of interest in my next book.
What does my imagination hold for us all today?
Indeed, dragons could be the inner workings of the fantasy world I’ll build tonight. The stories of old sound cliche. What I mean is: “We could get a whole new meaning out of this common topic.”
Without dragons, the world would fall under the weight of a magical intensity, a singularity. If not for the fact that they’re worshiped by most and comprehended by all, Mishmael, the main character of this story, wouldn’t have studied the dragons and their glorious reign.
Mishmael left the books he read disregarded when it came to the extremity of their reckless belief in the divinity of these giant creatures.

Childhood

The Forge of Brothers (2016)

“It’s time! Ahh.” I said to myself gladly while stretching my back. Before leaving, I walked to the town hall to say good-bye, “Oh Samie!” Myia sobbed and tried to impersonate a cute baby. “It’s been really good having you here bro!”, Josh said, as we punched each other’s hands; we called it “adventurer’s fist”. “Let’s meetup again, someday, somehow.”, I told him gladly. “God bless you bro, you totally were a miracle to my adventurer life…Don’t worry, I was fine even without you.”, Josh mocked me. Myia laughed hard, but I looked beaten. I said my “byes” to the town. Before I stepped out of the border, I prayed a short but powerful prayer.

My Roblox Gaming Journal Part 1 [The Shade Abandoned Caves] (2014)

Chapter 1 [Outside!] Soulspade tells me to play his game The Shade [Abandoned Caves]... His new horror game work in proggress. I login my account and search his name, waited and clicked SoulSpade then scrolled down and clicked play.. Its loading right now, hoping it does not lose from connection.. Wow, few bricks. :) Chapter 2 [1 Player only!] Oops, Soul forgot to fix that.. few seconds later I clicked play, loading.. loading.. loading.. Chapter 3 [Inside!] Finally! I'm inside and Soul is still loading.. We both said ready at the same time.. We saw a blue crystal when we went inside no one was here, no shade only the two of us. Soul said, "Explore the cave. You first!" I said, "Ok.." Chapter 4 [Oh man!] When we I went to the cave Soul followed.. Suddenly! The Shade Appeared! and killed me first. then Soul. Chapter 5 [Starting Over.] Soul went inside while i was writing this right now. Soul died so fast that he could'nt react! He respawned breathing so fast, He really had a shock.. We both went inside together, readied our torches. But, we respawned dying instantly, that shade really waited patiently. I got my sword out before going inside. Chapter 6 [Hello!] A guy entered before I could go inside. I said, "Hello!" Chapter 7 [Dead and hello again] somebody went inside and we totally died.. When we went inside. Chapter 8 [The last.] I'm the last everyone is dead. Soul killed The Shade. almost died there. Chapter 9 [The Adventure!] Me and the second player went to the caves and went to deep places. we had so much fun. until.. Chapter 10 [We're Dead..] We passed the shade. We died. And we lived happily ever after.. DEAD! The End Credits To Soulspade Me The Players who joined _____ Game _____ http://www.roblox.com/The-Shade-Abandoned-Caves-place?id=151383831