Young Writers Society

Dear chocolatechipmuffin,
Remember me? You know, the girl you haven't written about forever? YOU LEFT ME AT A FREAKIN' CLIFFHANGER FERCHRISSAKES!!! I mean, I can cope with the terrible life you gave me. You gave me poetry (even though you never actually showed it, thanks for that), so when I grow up maybe I'll be like Maya Angelou and write a poetic memoir based on my horrible childhood. But really, could you give Andy a better life? Look at that sweet little face. How could you be so horrible to my baby brother? He's been watching his father beat his mother, drunk, since he was a baby. He's been on the run from his father since he was four. Give him a break already!
Also, I would like it if you could give me a stronger maternal figure? It'd be nice to have a mother who looks after me, not the other way around.
And, this isn't necessary, but...summer love? Ever heard of it? I've never had a boyfriend, could you maybe work that in? Maybe a Superman-type figure? Oh! I could have some kind of male-phobia complex based on my horrible father, and then some cute guy from my hometown could come along and change my mind and be all perfect and get my father jailed and we could move back there and live happily ever after!
Love, Isabella
PS: Do you know how long it takes to type that name? Seriously, hon, you need to consider other people when choosing a username.

Isabella,
Your maternal figure is your grandma. Did you not get that? I thought it was obvious...
And no, I can't fix Andy's life (oh, and he may become Sam soon, be warned), because that would fix yours, and that would ruin the story.
I'll think about the summer love. But it's not gonna be perfect in the end. Sorry.
Love, chocolatechipmuffin
PS: I like my username. Use CCM if you want.

CCM,
Poophead.
Love, Isabella

CCM,
You leave my grandbabies alone, or else!
~Unidentified Grandma

Grandma,
Sorry, can't. It would ruin my story.
~CCM
PS: Threaten me again and you're falling off a cliff.

12.7.1948
To my dearest parents,

In the last few weeks, we have finally begun making headway in this war. We have more or less broken the arab forces, and the commanders are sensing a cease fire in the next couple of weeks, and are trying to take as much ground before that time.
Remember when you told me not to move to Palestine? You said that Eretz Yisrael could be built by others, why did it have to be me? Well, I was, and still am, young and idealistic, and am glad that I will see our 2000 year-old dream come to fruition in my time. The Kibbutz is flourishing, despite the war raging on all sides. The latest crop was the most productive yet, thanks to that shipment of new combines and tractors that Mom and her Hadassah group managed to get sent to us.
In the last few weeks I have been on many many missions, which details I cannot espouse in the least, that may not be declassified for 20 or 30 years, if that. What I can tell you is this: my participation in these missions helped to ensure the safety, protection, and continued existence of our state for years to come. However, I was badly injured, and need surgery. However, due to the location and extent of the injury, odds are slim that I will survive.
In the event of my death, there are a few things I want to ask of you: Do not mourn for me with tears. Do not cry over my death, please. Rather, I want to you to laugh and dance and sing in celebration of my memory. Furthermore, do not blame our state, Eretz Yisrael, for my demise. Rather, Israel is responsible for nothing but good things in my life. In the case of my death, I want you to take the news of my sacrifice in the spirit in which it was given: willfully, and gladly. Furhter, I would like for you and Mom's Hadassah organization to set up an endowment foundation in my memory to enable other young Zionists to come here in every capacity possible, perhaps even one day founding a youth village in my name.
Most important, for you to remember, however, is that if indeed, I do pass, remember that when I died, I died with honor.
I hope with my heart of hearts that one day, you, zionists all, will take a gamble on leaving the decadence and comfort of the galut and come to these shores, and build a life within this Zionist Enterprise, for which your beloved son most assuredly sacrificed.
I love you all.

Shalom and goodbye,

Your loving Son,
Avi

Dear Claudette,

I really wish you would stop portraying me so poorly, I'm not that bad of a guy. By the end of the novel, everyone is going to hate me! Even though we both know I did nothing wrong. Can you please stop accusing me and making me look so bad?

Insincerely,
Lev

To my dearest CCM,
Sequel. Chapter Two. To Be Continued. Ring any bells???
~Is

Isabella,
Nope.
~CCM
PS: Since when are you Is? Your name is Isabella.

Dear abandoner,

This is Cole--you know, the one you've left standing on the front walk with two small children for four months???? Yea, that Cole. We've changed seasons since we've last moved or spoke. I'm supposed to be getting engaged by April 14th...do you mind moving the storyline along here so I might not miss that? Or do you wish to miss your deadline as well so we both suffer?

I didn't think so. Stop procrastinating with things like this and at least let me go inside!!

Stiff in the Street,
Cole

Samantha,

I do realize that you're going through a very difficult time, emotionally, and I shall give you a bit more space due to circumstances. However, I also believe writing will only help you get past this stage, as it will keep your mind occupied and help you accomplish a task you have been trying to finish for years.

Love is the only scar of which the Masters are afraid. You bear yours beautifully.

With respect,
Saphirus

To you, right?

Sick of you. Get over it.


--Tov

::..::

To Whom It May Concern:

I have come to the conclusion that you have hitherto unexplored depths of sadism in your nature. Very nice. I approve. Just as long as you don't apply that sadism to me. I'm more of the S half of S&M myself, you see. And no, I am not suggesting a lesbian tryst.

In any event, I was just writing to ask you to lay off. Please. Before I hurt you. Buaha.

Sadistically Yours,
Angie MacTavish

...:::...

Dearest Angie,

Your evil laugh is far from frightening. Try again later.

Most affectionately,
Fand

...:::...

Fandikins darling,

What do you know? I'm terrifying. Everyone thinks so. You're just so frightened that it's put you in a state of denial. Swimming in African rivers isn't good for your complexion, dearest. Snap out of it.

Yours always,
Angie

...:::...

Evangeline Quintia MacTavish,

You forget. I'm the author. I know all your tricks and all your little secrets (as evidenced above). And I have incriminating photos of you sucking your thumb in your sleep... taken during your senior trip. Oh, and your stuffed bear. And I know where you keep your vibrator. Etc etc et al. *smirks* Don't mess with me, lovely.

Yours with much love,
Fand

...:::...

F,

...I hate you.

Angie (not Evangeline, and never Evangeline Quintia, you b*tch)

...:::...

A,

You know you love me.

F

...:::...

F,

...Shuddup.

A

Chocolatechipmuffin,
It's all very nice to be a character up here in your head, but would you mind writing a bit about me? Because, technically, I don't exist yet (ooo, lovely paradox there, isn't it?), and I would really like to go be Superman now! I mean, come on, you've got this whole cool plot twist up here, where I get to go save the day and be Prince Charming and stuff, and...you're just lazy. I know you're stressed right now, but you need to get over yourself, honey. Cuz bad things are gonna happen if you don't hurry up and write me!!
Angrily yours,
Joe

Joe,
I actually like you as a character, and right now, I am inventing a problem for you. You can't be Superman, there has to be a problem. I'm writing this for my best friend, though she doesn't know it, and she hates happy endings. Besides, whatcha gonna do to me? Hmm? I can ruin your entire life. I have a picture of you and Sally Mallifields making out in the movies. I'm putting it in a nice frame for your mom. I'm also making a copy for Izzy. If I just alter a couple of things oon Photoshop, it'll look like it was on one of your dates with Izzy--not Sally. Don't mess with me.
Lazily yours,
Muffin

Muffin,
You are a b*tch. And I hate you.
Joe

Joe,
You are a baboon butt. Blue and hairless. So there.
Muffin

Dear Ms. Can Come Up With Anything Ridiculous,

I am depressing. Can't you just let me get over myself? I mean seriously, this is ridiculous. And why the hell am I on this friggin' island??? Who DOES this?? It's ridiculous, would never happen in real life, and yet you continue to write it like it's totally believable all because of some messed up dream you had one night on one hour of sleep. Seriously, sleep more and maybe you will stop being so psychotic with my brain.

Sleep,
Ms. Unbelievable

Dear Aussie,

why'd you have to make me so darn grumpy? I mean, I get it and everything, my parents died, but honestly, why can;t you let me just get over it? Let me have maybe one decent friend, and what's with all the stealing and assassinations? And the back of the tavern always smalls the worst. Jeez. And also, I'm not fond of that whole alternate-me idea you've been cooking up in that wacked-out brain of yours.

Keep it real,
Misty

Dear Pushca,

It might be perfectly alright for you to wallow in a cesspool of unwritten insights, but certain bipolar teenagers and their-gay-best-friends-who-would-prefer-to-be-left-out-of-this-but-whom-I'm-dragging-on-the-bandwagon-anyway would really prefer that you hurry up and write.

So let's get on with the not so little details.

Why did you pair me up with a Republican? And if you had to do it, couldn't you have at least thrown in some self-respecting Democratic propaganda? I had to go with him on Halloween. He went as Bush. BUSH. What was I supposed to do, counter it with a Bill Clinton? Huh? I mean, what is the point of that? We might as well just not vote.

Oh, and then there's that whole hallucination thing. Yeah. Would you mind? Oh, and about the Lithium, it makes me FAT.

And never, never, never, EVER tell anyone that I watch Tyra again. NEVER. DO YOU F***ING HEAR ME?????

Love always,
Gwendolyn (NOT GWYNETH, supposed authoress)

P.S. I never want to hear about you listening to that sell-out boy band again. I will, however, authorize Britney Spears.

Luna,

OI! Are you going to rewrite our craptastic story or what? It's been in your head for months so get off your lazy butt and do it! Don't you even mention the fact you ditched us for your stupid GAY story and then ditched it for some morbid take on the breezes in a graveyard. We were here first you evil woman!

Ruth

-

Ruth,

Yeah, you guys annoy me. You forgot D&J who are likely going to be my NaNo. And my gay story, welllllll I have writer's block on that. Besides, I love my little emo siren. So leave her alone.

LUNA

Pushca,

Cum? CUM? What the Hell is WRONG with you? Your childhood was deprived, not depraved, remember? OhmyGod I hate you. Where did that even come from, you f***ing bitch?

Stuart

P.S. If I ever have to watch that again, I really will throw up, and it'll be all over you. -your loving Gwen

-

Stuart darling,

Come. haha.

The profanity is apalling. Gwen may swear, but that doesn't mean you should, now does it? I mean, I know I made you eat your brother's semen and all, but you were the one who told me about it. It would have happened whether I was there to publicize it or not. It might not seem that way to everyone, but it's true. Really. And at any rate, it's all in the past. You've had a good dozen years to get over it,

And for the record, I didn't think of that, they did it to Gerard. It happened, it's not my fault your brother, like all men (OH BUUUUURN) is a sick asshole.

Tell Gwen that I would suffer some puke to meet her, she really is a dear.

Affectionately yours,
P