Professional ghostwriter and creative writer
About Tina
I have been a freelance creative writer for several years. I have written short stories, E-books, novels, children's stories. After working on various projects with people worldwide, I became even more passionate about my job. My skills have improved, and I can easily understand clients' needs, cooperate, and suggest unique ideas.
Any genre is acceptable, fiction or non-fiction, from drama and romance to thriller and horror, etc. I can create magnetic stories, a world where anyone would be immersed as soon as reading the first sentence. As well as bringing your ideas to life, I can write outlines and plotlines; draft, polish and edit texts. If you have a story but don't know how to tell, I'll find the right words for you; if you only know a genre of a story you'd like to be written, it's not a problem either - I can come up with everything and deliver a complete product.
As well as adult or coming of age novels and novellas, I also write scripts and children's stories. My ghostwritten works have been published in magazines, blogs; short films and movies have been shot with the scrips I have created; my books have been published on Kindle and in paperback.
I provide:
- Ghostwritten stories
- Unique plots and outlines
- Complete e-books
- Polishing and editing writings
- Screenwriting
- Children's stories and books
Below are 3 stories that I wrote.
The Plan to Survive
The gravel rustled under the wheels as I drove my car on the worn, dirty road. The heavy fog of sand swirled in the air, hitting the windows, blaring. I clicked the button on the radio, but it hissed for a second and fell silent. Frustrated, I slightly punched the wheel and sped up the car.
I have to get home before the tornado approaches; the thought lingered, stuck on my mind.
The howling wind whistled and reached through the apertures as the sand kept blurring my vision and the pebbles thumped on the metal.
Suddenly the car growled like an old, tired animal and stopped. My stomach dropped, and I pressed my forehead on the wheel, clenching my jaws from disappointment. I knew this jade couldn't handle such a stony road.
I put up my head and looked around, through the murky windows. Not a single soul, no building, no shelter. The vast road and the fields didn't bode well for me.
Something must be here; the thought crossed my mind, something helpful.
Sitting in the car, drowning in despair, wouldn't change a thing, so I got out, slamming the door behind me, and stepped toward the field. The wind got stronger, pushing me back as the dirt and sand burned my eyes. I slightly hunched and shielded my face with a hand. As I kept battling the wind to move forward, I strained my eyes and noticed a faded silhouette of a small house, standing like a loner in the center of the field. A faith sparked in my heart, and I hastened my steps, shortening the distance between me and the only hope, just waiting there for me to grasp it.
Finally, after a long few minutes, I reached the house - wooden, old, abandoned. I pressed my face on the window and peeked inside. I tapped on the window and then again but lauder. No one showed up. The house was completely vacant.
Maybe the owner's out, I thought and drew closer to the door; perhaps no one lives here. But whatever it is, I have to get into the cellar, or I'll die out here.
I clenched the doorknob and forcefully pushed it toward me, then with both hands - shaking it with all my energy. After a minute of struggling, the door gave up - I looked down on my hands and saw the doorknob, broken, laying on my palm.
The door creaked and opened. I ran in and shut it, panting, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Suddenly heavy footsteps reached me, and as soon as I saw a dark, massive shape, I jumped back, leaning on the wall.
"Who are you?" he asked and got closer.
The man's eyes glimmered like the eyes of a nocturnal animal. His frizzy grey hair bristled, and the wrinkles on his face looked like grooves of a deserted ground. He was staring at me, with a lamp in his hand and inaudible rumbles leaving his parched lips.
I peeked toward the small door behind the man, slightly open, the stairs leading underground. I had to get in the cellar before I had time. That was my goal, and I had to achieve it at all costs.
The Silver Tides
"How long have we been here?" asked Jimmy.
Noah looked at his little brother. Sadness flickered in his eyes.
"I don't know," he answered, "I've lost track of time."
Noah looked around. They sat on the beach, in the warm sand, next to each other.
"I don't even remember how we got here," Noah continued, "in this dark island."
The boys fixed their eyes on the ocean waves. The darkness that never seemed to fade away was pierced by the shining of the silver tides that kept loudly hitting the rocks and then backing away. The waves surrounding the "black island" - that's what Jimmy called it - gleamed in sparkling white light as if the ocean was full of shimmering diamonds. No moonlight, no stars on the night sky, but only the constantly moving silver tides illuminated the edges of the island.
"This doesn't look like the real world," Noah whispered, "Morning never comes here, or rain, or wind. It's just darkness encircled by the ocean. It's like we are in a parallel universe, somewhere very magical, very beautiful, and yet so scary."
Jimmy clung onto his brother and whimpered.
"I want to go home," he said.
Noah wound his arms around Jimmy.
"It's time to try and overcome these mystical waves," he said, "let's start making a boat. It might take weeks, but we have to try."
Noah started cutting off the branches from the woods with a knife that he had found on the island. Jimmy helped him carry the wooden pieces together. The brothers tried to stick the branches together, but as hours passed, they realized their efforts were useless.
"Let's sleep for a bit," said Noah to cheer his brother up, "and we'll do better when we are energized."
They both crawled into a little shelter that they had made from large leaves and some ivy stems. Worried and exhausted boys fell asleep on the sound of the silver tides crashing on the beach and then quietly receding.
A few hours had passed when Noah opened his eyes and went back onto the beach to keep working on the boat when he gasped from surprise and shouted:
"Jimmy! Come here, look at this!"
The little brother quickly ran toward him and started jumping up and down from happiness.
"It's built! We have the boat!" he squealed.
The boat stood complete, finished, even bigger, and stronger than the boys had imagined.
"Who did this?" Noah asked, "there's no one here other than us."
He then turned around and yelled.
"Who are you?! Where are you!"
When he received no answer, he smiled and said:
"Whoever you are, thank you."
The boys pushed the boat into the ocean and then got in, energetically spinning the oars in the waves. The waves kept tossing the boat around, quickly lifting it with a great force and then down. It felt like the boys and the ocean were competing with each other, battling. But Noah and Jimmy kept fighting with all their strength and enthusiasm. And the boat endured every attack of the powerful tides.
After many hours, or maybe even days, the boys finally crossed the boundaries of the circle, the circle of silver waves. Soon the fear vanished from their hearts, replaced by a gentle feeling of relief: they saw the sun shining from the blue sky onto the beach, crowded with people.
Taxi Driver [excerpt]
1 EXT. NYC NEIGBORHOOD (E.G BROWNSVILLE) - NIGHT 3AM
The snow-covered streets shine under the dim streetlights.
Everyone has shut their windows to hide from the cold. The
slippery streets are vacant, only one taxi is slowly driving.
The driver is looking around through the frosted windows.
2 INT. TAXI - THAT MOMENT
The driver clicks his tongue in disappointment as he sees no
one around. He fixes his hat and clenches the wheel as
shivers run down his spine from the coldness slipping in from
the crevices.
(mumbling to himself)
I'll just head home, no one's around
anyways
As he says this, from the corner of his eye, he notices
someone waving from outside. He cannot make out his face in
the dark, just a silhouette. He stops the car and waits for
the client to get in.
[...]
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