Young Writers Society

I smoke you and my tongue tingles from your piss. I drink your words from their source; I am the whirling delirious. Strung up and hollow you lay. My bow ...

Well, here it is! My first story. I hope you like it! Oh, and as for the names of the characters? Lol I didn't pick them because I met or ...

Now this is a romantic story, but you'll have to give it time, ok? And I just started rewriting it, so...there isn't much. And keep in mind that the original ...

Alright...this is the first story I've written in months...many, many long months. I was bored and in a car when I thought of it. Please read and tell me what ...

CHAPTER ONE A Victim of Greed It happened slowly, so slowly that not even the wisest of the gods noticed. Not even the wisest noticed how jealous little Ixchel became. ...

You have never felt the cool breeze as your moonlit walk slowly ends? You have never splashed in salt water with all of your summer friends? You have never met ...

Ghostly fingers flip the pages, Of our changing lives, For some those pages flip too fast, While some think they flip too slow, For very few, The pages flip, And ...

please look at my story and tell me what you think There once was a young eight-year old boy named josh and his mum had just died from breast cancer ...

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Freckles trace the trail[ing place] At stead where tip meets lid[lash grace]. Crest of fingerprint[embrace] Ear-tip-to-cheek-hid[en chase] where Finger And freCkle collidE

“Battle wounds?” the shadow asked dryly, coming out of the shadows towards Cadenza so that it was apparent that it was a young woman with short hair cropped close against ...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 *** CHAPTER 3 Aisha wiped her wet hands on a dishrag and sighed softly, casting a weary glance at Jaleh beside her. Her hands were sore ...

Prologue June 16, 2356It’s been so long since I wrote in this journal. At least ten years. So much has happened in those years that it might take me another ...

I think everyone wishes at some point in their lives that they could talk to their younger selves. So, I decided to write a letter to my seven-year-old self. ------------------------------------------

I. There are no cherries here, just flat blossoms I would tuck into nests of cut grass, and sit with hands stained earthy tones, waiting for birds to land in ...