Young Writers Society

Someone I don't know sent me a bit of a story and here it is: The rain was pouring down outside. Lightning struck every few seconds and thunder pounded on ...

CHERUB is made up of kids and is the Junior Divsion of MI5. James Adams is sent to Australia to take in information about a religious cult who is involved ...

The Hope of Imagination Amid the flowers of Imagination I met her smile And we walked, and talked For just a little while. I will see her soon again, And ...

I miss her words The song is faded No longer heard A little jaded I miss her words But not for one moment Do I suspect That the Muse is ...

This page is blank. It is void of black that normal people would recognise as letters, which can be strung together to make words and then sentences and eventually some ...

Underneath Giza, Egypt, 1997 The glyphs were smaller here, and more crowded. It was as if their creator had been running out of time and space, but still had much ...

A fun read , at times you wander why your holding thirteen kiligrams of wood , On other rarer occasions you acctually sweat ( i did ) and forget your ...

Misrepresentation, that's what it is. They always blame us. I have read many fairy tales in my time, and have been frankly appalled at the way we have been made ...

Chapter One The Slow Life The school bell of Dunsire High School sounded its noise; the noise that all schoolchildren liked to hear. And one thousand five hundred pupils burst ...

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Chapter One The pen moved radically along the page. The expensive handwriting pen printed its royal blue ink onto the lined A4 writing pad. The writing on the paper was ...

Sordid puncturing describes it best, A matter of confliction. Not once in many years gone hence has Failed our loyal conjunction, As monotonic interjections, Layered with vilest remorse, Cut right ...

~please pay attention to the timestamps~ I. Present- Ghasakis III, Traveel City, Hyatt2 Hotel - 06:44 local time Dawn suffused the sky – slowly, creepingly – until all at once ...

i dont know whether to put it here or whether you could classify it as a poem.bcos i was writing a entry in my diary, and at the same time ...

One It had been a glorious summer day. The grass, emerald as the jewel itself, grew high and tickled my knees as I stepped through it. Being four, I had ...