The place to write your story.

Built by writers, for writers, Novlr is the world’s only writer-owned creative writing platform. Join a community with writers and their goals at the heart of everything we do.

Write for free

Written in Novlr

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tubeshaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, diningrooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the lefthand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deepset round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very welltodo hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gainedwell, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.

Powering the world’s creative writers.

0 writers have written 0 words in 0 projects.

Powering the world's creative writers.

0 writers have written 0 words in 0 projects.

More than a writing app

Set your goals, get insights and hone your craft.

Writing streak

Write something every day to build your streak.

Words written

1,042 today

All analytics

Daily Writing Goal

All Projects

0 / 2,500

Write 2500 words in any project every day to complete your daily goal.

View All Goals

Monthly Writing Goal

All Projects

0 / 15,000

Write 15000 words in any project every month to complete your monthly goal.

View All Goals

Word count

11,947

All analytics

Popular channels

0 online

Jump straight into some of our most popular channels!

Writing Sprints

Writing resources and advice

Ask for feedback

The Reading Room

All posts

Top 3 Playlists

Our top 3 playlists this week.

Writing love scenes

Writing the vastness of space

Writing future cities

All Playlists

Words deleted

68 today

All analytics

"Really impressed with the super clean interface on @novlrtweets as I take it for a test run in preparation for #NaNoWriMo. So far, it's totally blowing all the years I've squabbled with Microsoft Word out of the water. Even having a nice note section is 🤯."

@lemonlaze

"I love @novlrtweets! They have a crisp ux, the price is great, and their new-feature roadmap is public so you can always see what they’re building next."

@blinkingcursor

Built by writers, run by writers, owned by writers

Novlr is the only creative writing platform to be owned by the writers who use it. Join our community of writer-owners, co-own the platform you use, and help shape the future of creative writing.

Tell me more

Experience integrated learning.

Learn while you write with fully integrated courses on Novlr Academy.

Explore Academy

The ship, the stalwart vessel known as 'The Serenity Mariner,' was plunged into chaos as the sky became a swirling maelstrom of opalescent tendrils. The flying jellyfish, their bioluminescent bodies illuminating the blackened sky, descended upon the ship with an otherworldly fury. Their membranous bodies pulsated as they sailed through the air, their long, poisonous tentacles trailing behind them like deadly streamers.

Captain Anabelle "Storm-Eye" Hawthorne stood at the helm, her grip firm on the worn, salt-crusted wheel. Her eyes, the color of the stormy sea itself, narrowed as she watched the spectral onslaught. Years of navigating treacherous waters had hardened her, but she'd never faced a tempest of living, breathing creatures before.

"Steady on, lads!" she roared above the howling wind, her voice carrying a command that could not be ignored. "Don't let the sea's nightmarish ballet scare you! These are just jellyfish, no more than that!"