I heart Fan Fiction,do you? Yuppy,almost everyone loves to read them,even the most creative!

I,Chiyoko Yamamoto,love to write Fan Fiction,but to afraid to show it off.That's why i will let you write your very own anime Fan Fiction and post it here..it can come in many genres,such as:

  • Horror

You can use any anime you've always wanted to write fan fiction about.I hope I get to see some very good fan fiction from some creative Otaku Members,and it must be PG.13 or under to post,please contact me (PM) if you want to be added as a guest poster for the Fan Fiction Club.

Also,i would like to point out if you want to post Fan Art,or Fan Videos,i'm okay with with that,too.

Fan Fiction Club Members
Artgrrl +
sasoriofredsand +
Pantera17 +
inufluffy12 +
Clueless101 +
Short Fox Demon +
Hikokoromi +
determinedcat + +
dark flame master +
Twilight Tiger +
MariaCarlotta +
HanakoAnimeaddict +
Sakkee +

FFC Artists

FFC Video Creaters

Lost Little One

Wandering the streets, the little one finds a bench and sits down. Unwanted and unloved, there is nothing left to do but sit and think.

Where will I go? Where shall I eat? Would I be alive tomorrow?

These questions swirl in the little one's mind, the scared and worried little mind of the frightened little one. There is nothing left to do but stare at the floor where the squirrels and birdies gathered, hoping for a meal.

I'm sorry, little birdies. I'm sorry, pretty squirrels. I have none to offer, for I have none to eat. Scurry on then, find yourself a warm nest and some nice chestnuts, enjoy your little life.

The lost little one could not remember why they were out in this cold weather. Could not remember how or what could have caused it. All the little one knew was that there was nowhere to eat nor sleep, nowhere to run and hide, nowhere to keep warm. The lost little one was about to lose hope until...

"Oye! Little boy, come here."

The lost little one turns, seeking this familiar voice.

"Little boy, come eat. Come sleep. Come with me!"

The lost little one lifts their head, which is shrouded in a hoodie. The little one makes eye contact with whom this voice had belonged to. The lost little one now knew why they had run away.

This man had hurt the little one. This man was evil. This man was the little one's father. This man must pay.

"What's the matter, boy? Why won't you come with me?"

Shaking their head, the little one slowly backs away, a strong urge to get away inching it's way to the little one's legs.

This man appeared to not have a clue who the little one really was. He appeared to think the little one was a random young boy on the street. He knew not of the little one's true appearance.

Turning to run, the little one takes one glance backward at the man. Recognition lights the man's eyes, quickly transforming from surprise to malice. The man knows now who the lost little one is.

"Get back you, you traitorous girl!"

The man takes chase. The lost little girl sprints two blocks down the street down the cobble stone paths and made a fast left, straight to the police station. The man was not far behind. The lost little girl's hood flew off her head, casting her long auburn locks into the freezing cold winds. A police man steps out. The little girl waves him down. The man freezes mid-stride.

Opening and closing her mouth, the little girl cannot utter a sound. The panicked look in her eyes, however, speak wonders to the police man. He takes notice of the man frozen mid-stride. He tackles the man to the ground. The man hollers wildly at the little girl, promising her punishment will be far worse than what he's done before.

The little girl is terrified. She knows not what to do. The police man asks her name. She cannot speak. She had never been able to speak. She was a mute.

The lost little girl is ushered into the police station to await help.

"What is her name?"
"Where does she come from?"
"Where are her parents?"

They wonder about her story, unaware of the horrors that lie in her family history. She had never been able to speak. Nobody knows the truth. Nobody will ever know the truth. Or so she believes...

"Little girl, are you lost?"

She shakes her head.

"What is your name?"

She motions near her mouth and makes an X with her fingers, trying to tell them she cannot speak.

"Would you like to write your name?"

The little girl tilts her head. Why hadn't she thought of this? She nods. She grabs the pen.

She writes, "Lucinda."

The policeman reads what she had written and smiles.

"Lucinda, do you know your last name?"

She once more shakes her head.

"Would you like to tell us what happened? Why were you out in this cold? Why was that man chasing you?"

Slowly, she nods again. She begins to write. Her tragic history unfolds beneath her pen-strokes. They never knew it was coming.

Two Years!

Wow...it's been two years since anything was posted here, and that's a long time!

Just to let you know, Fan Fiction Hostess is not dead just yet! So if you have any fan fictions you have done recently, this is the place to share them!
Thank youz!



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