Young Writers Society

be patient don't rush, take it slow let the wind blow. feel the breeze through your hair, just feel it know one cares. to many things to rush not enough ...

"Wicked creatures are abroad" said old man Leonard Gob "monsters!" cred the child "monsters are much more mild. "Attorneys stock the day lawyers are evil creatures in every way! a ...

Chaptah three. Ropu was a tough teacher. He made Koani work until she was exhausted lifting weights. Matina too was fading quickly. He would tell her to fly up as ...

Clutching lifeless solider in bloody hands, the shadow silently crept along the dungeon passage. The shiny scarlet cape that swung wildly around her shoulders reflected blotches of red on the ...

On his Birthday.... We were three months past our date, The first green Saturday night lounge, Where we met...and here was his birthday. The red roses, the candles, the wine; ...

Chocolate Twirls and Licorice Gobs, Packets of candy and big toffee globs, OOOH such wonderful things! I bow down to candy, my grateful king. These are the things I know ...

Poem, a mear word, a fragmentation, Of the wonderful feeling, the sensation, Of writing thoughts, to share with others, To give to fathers, to give to mothers. Poem, a strong ...

He looked at me I stared back. He scratched his nose I stared back. He rubbed his hair I stared back. He smiled a bit I stared back. He yawned ...

I am writing my most hate jonra (I know it is spelled almost entirely wrong) Many people have been embarrassed for some reason or another but, I have yet to ...

By the way, it doesn't really get scary yet The wine tasted good on her tongue, and had a pleasant after taste in her throat. Opium scent incense and red ...

The Curse of the Callers Angus Fletcher was often described as a common thief, but he was so much more than that; he was an expert thief… a genius in ...

The fisherman and his daughter, Walked along the sand, They spoke of the water, Together, hand in hand. That day he had brought her, His motherless daughter, Down by the ...

This poem is written in a Geordie accent. Some people (especially Americans) won't understand because I've done it in over the top broad Geordie... Erm, for those of you who ...

“They’ve got him Linda! They’ve got the King!” “How long have they had him?” she asked urgently. “A good few hours. We were dying to tell, you but you were ...

The armoury was dimly lit; the candlelight flickered in the razor sharp blades and breast plates. It seemed almost as if the room was full of people, the fiery eyes ...