Young Writers Society

Chapter one How many of you have ever been told by your parents who you could date and who not to date? Well iam a victim of that, it all ...

To call you, Just to say sorry. Forgive me, In return for a smile. Maybe you can hug me, Or give a kiss. I wouldn’t mind. Stay friends? I wouldn’t ...

Scanning the edibles in massive ' Big Bazaar', I stumbled acroos a most delightful unedible. It was a wallet, looking healthy but lying on the floor untended. At first I ...

The boy went to a small, run-down Primary School. It was in the country, with farms and long grass stretching far and wide. The teachers were un-educated and very mean. ...

Forget me and leave me, Scream at me and swear. Mother show your helpless baby, That you just don’t care. Break some more rules. Show me how not to live. ...

Er...yep. New piece, thought I'd try something new. (Sorry it sort of cuts off at the was all I felt like typing. ) The smell of grease, cigarette smoke, and ...

So I usually make up dialoge I say to my friends. I pre-plan speech. Yes thats right. Making jokes and stuff before hand. Though I can make up stuff on ...

Why am I the only person here, That's slowly feeling, Like I'm draining my life, That grass bright green, The sky sweet blue, My blank face just stares back at ...

Right, so I've unfortunately lost the original version of this (argh) so I've been trying to re-write it, and it hasn't been as successful as I would have liked. So, ...

Chapter X Sir Lil’ Fee fi fo fumb! I smell the blood of a nasty one! Be he young or be he old, I will eat him, if truth be ...

Scarlet claws run down the young boy’s neck, leaving a trail of red dripping down unto his chest. He shivers, paralysed in pain and pain. His eyes flick desperately through ...

Gone are the days when we ran along the creek chasing minnows, and turning over countless rocks in the search for crayfish. Gone is the age when paradise was a ...

You aren’t exactly the strongest person in this world You fall apart by Tuesday afternoon, Plunging yourself into a gray mass of melted newspapers From which maroon butterflies flutter – ...

resurrection: act of rebirth. With you it’s my time to be free, To touch, To learn, To see who’s the real me, Cause with you I have no connections, To ...

I wouldn't exactly call it an action story, but I didn't know where else it would fit. The main point of the story is in the last paragraph so this ...