custom made short story online gift

Custom Written Short Story


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Product Description

Let us write a fictional short story containing 800 to 1000 words as your gift. It can be about anything. Name the characters and give them characteristics and motivation of you, your friends and the donee. Influence the story by providing us details about their behaviour. Name the Location, become superheroes or let a certain insider joke appear. How about you and your friend in a ghost story?

Tell us if you want the story to be funny, thrilling or cute. There is no limit!

Please view the example on “How to Order” to get a rough idea of what you will be getting. Note: quality may vary!


Please tell us your names of all involved characters, their ages, the occasion and all other details you want us to include in the fictional story. Also name the setting and a subject. For Example: Thrilling Ghost Story in Manhatten.




 this is going to be a gift for a female friend of mine. Background: We met 5 years ago being around 17 and met in some bar in holland. She is dutch, I am german. Louise (short: Wies) her name. I am Daniel (Short Dan)
She is an Art student (illustration, and fine arts). And her life is Art. The way she lives. She loves the chaos, she is into philosophy, she is really open minded. We tried some psychadelic drugs. She sees beauty in every little detail. She never travelled much in her life ( but she always wants to)

I am Mathematician, I meditate alot, I change my preferences and life alot. I like to try out alot. I love travelling, told her many traveller stories.

I like to imagine how we go and leave everything behind and travel for a long time together.
The fictional short story could be just an adventure of our travels. Use some of our characteristics and some details of our past.. We LOVE bizarre and weird things. And we both like acting weird.

Russia is cool place, dangerous and weird stuff going on their. Let this be the setting.



 If They Travelled Together

They left it all behind, Louise and Daniel. It’s good to do sometimes, to leave it all behind and not look back, at least for the time when you’re moving forward. It was a trip spent on boats, on trains, in the back of cabs and on airplanes. A trip to nowhere, and everywhere. Eat when the need arises, sleep the same as well. Hands held, skin on skin, lips on lips, feelings no one quite felt right in naming in the air.

Russia is where they found themselves, sometime after the start of their trip. Rooftops that look like multicolored Christmas ornaments, streets in a desperate need of paving.

“Look at that!” Louise would yell, pointing excitedly to anything that caught her attention, which is to say most things. Dan would smile, nod, and move on. The girl would linger, turning to see her companion was some ways ahead of her, and then she would rush forward, slapping him playfully on the ass for making her run past a few things which may have been as amazing as the last amazing thing.

But really they didn’t rush, they didn’t need to. They took in anything they wanted. There was a small store on the corner across the street from the miniscule hotel they were staying at. They woke in the morning and dressed quickly, jeans pulled on, shirts without a bra, shoes without socks. Across the street they went, into that small store. Drinks they couldn’t pronounce, prepackaged snacks that were wholly unfamiliar.

A small balding man stood behind the counter, his face looked as though it was just an inch too far to the left, he spoke out of the edge of his mouth, he kept one eye nearly closed. He spoke but Dan couldn’t understand him, and Louise was too busy studying him to listen, though if she had she wouldn’t have understood him either.

“I want to paint him,” Louise said, inspiration washing over her just as the fresh air of early morning did as they walked along the edge of the street. They went down past their hotel until they found a store in which she could by paints, a small canvas. Then back to the hotel they went.

She set up in the corner, perched on a wooden chair which leaned to one side, appropriate since the man’s face did as well. She worked from memory, added by a pill they had bought from a strange man in a strange coat the night before. She painted quickly, and when she was done she smiled, and they left the painting in the room and left the room behind.

Now the world was turning, Russia through a prism of colors and swirls. The pills were strong, their minds racing, their bodies fighting to keep up. Midday turned to evening, and more pills passed parted lips.

The sky grows dark, all the way to pitch black, the only light coming from fading streetlamp bulbs and the millions of pinpricks in the sky, as if the night was just black construction paper a kid punched holes into.

A party is found, loud music with a thumping bass line and little talent. Invites, slaps on the backs, and our intrepid heroes find themselves on a rooftop, standing upon a squat two story house. Beer, wine, something that taste like turpentine. Good times at the least, until the sun is up, shredding that construction paper, throwing brilliant yellows across the clouds, so one can stand on the rooftop and take in all of the brown and gray that Russia has to offer.

Back to the hotel to sleep, the painting of the crooked faced man leaning against the wall, the paint is dry, the painting more abstract now that the pills have worn off.

One bed, limbs intertwined. In the evening which acts as morning they rise, and they go. To the train station, large packs strapped to their back.

“I want to go here,” She says, and Dan shrugs and points out another destination. Ultimate though it doesn’t matter where they go, it’s just fun to go, and even better to go with someone you care about.

So onto the train, out of the station. Of course they took her suggestion, they speed towards their destination and the gentle rocking on the tracks, and the odd, faint scent of vodka makes them feel at easy. Heavy eyelids grow even more so. Trains were made for sleeping, rock you like a baby, and so they do. When they wake Russia is long behind them, only that smell of Vodka left to remind them.

The painting was left behind, set up on the dresser, hopefully the staff will allow the room to keep it, because it was a gift. Life is a gift, and travel is a gift, and friends and love are all gifts. The real gift is what you experience, and what gifts you give to others.


Additional Information

Average Delivery Time

7 Days


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