Young Writers Society

I wrote this when I was still 12... So when I was 12 I believed that stanzas had to be certian amount of lines, adn this was during the time ...

Chapter 1 The real reason I’m me The night was hot, but beautiful. The dark night sky filled to capacity with stars, and the moon shinning brighter than I can ...

[All right, so this is another of my notorious freewrites, though this one definitely WILL be further developed, hopefully into a full novel; I understand that, since I didn't do ...

None of it makes sense anymore. When cons start outweighing pros, and hope becomes a screaming infant tied to a stick and beaten repeatedly against the concrete sidewalk, and every ...

Prologue Deep beneath the parched, dusty surface of Scientific Research Facility Number 51's outer bounderies an entity long hidden from the world stirred within its confines. As a result of ...

There once was a tissue named Bradley Who could only do things quite sadly. He snuffled and moaned And bickered and groaned And got thrown away quite gladly.

As beautiful as heaven, Just like a butterfly. They fly around like rain drops Filling up the bright blue sky. You draw you self away from them, Come crashing down ...

Yep! My baby is finally up! See? SQUEE! Anyway, tell me how it works. Don't worry... unlike my writing profile site, this has games and pictures and other cool things ...

The House that Jack Kerouac Built [Second Verse] I have found the weeds which Ophelia wound around wrists and ankles; and Chatterton measured the moon. Flirtaceous perrenials blooms of boyhood ...

I got hit by a car last Friday. It was one of those experiences that makes you feel like someone scribbled the word “fuck” all over you. Fuckity fuckity fuck. ...

My zombie hands clatter across the keyboard the keys rattle and quake and words appear but I can't read them. My zombie breath shoots forth as I cough hacking upon ...

Prologue: The best of my talents was always reading. Not Cask of Amontillado reading, but actual reading. People reading. I realize things, much like any person should, but I picture ...

OKay, due to puncuation problems, this post has been editted with the correct poem. In front of us Are piles of books That help us to learn About what has ...

“You’re growing restless. You cannot tear your eyes from him.” Carolyn spoke to me over breakfast one morning. I could not withhold the sigh that escaped me, as I stirred ...

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