Young Writers Society

I guess this could be an opening to a story. (Sorry about the formatting.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I turned back and looked at the island…And saw the flames of sorrow reaching high into the sky. It was hard to look at…To see my small town smoldering under the burning rage of such a cruel fire. I looked back…And realized everything was lost. My heart raged with the thoughts of the family and friends I had selfishly left behind. They would have no escape…Their lives would be stolen from them by Fire. I thought of the children, who knew nothing, who were so completely innocent of this evil, selfish world; their lives…taken away unmercifully. I looked back…And saw Despair itself…
My thoughts turned back to my fleeing. When I could have been helping people escape, I left in this tiny row boat, floating back and forth on the gray sea. The sea…a bland, foreboding gray…As if it knew this was a forsaken night. My guilt overwhelmed me, and I lost consciousness.

I had horrible dreams, and I awoke with a painful headache. My mind, the moment I woke up, instantly set on the Burning Island…Why? Why do I torture myself so? I shed a single tear, but something was wrong. I could not hear nor smell a sea, and the tear dropped from my cheek and made the world ripple. I obtained Focus, and realized I was No Where; an abyss of infinite white space. Every movement I made seemed to flow better than it did in…the real world. With every motion, this whole white world rippled with fierce intensity. I was comforted somehow…This Lucidity gave me what I needed: Peace. It allowed me to let my thoughts stray elsewhere, to other things such as how I came of this White Space, and why…These questions, I was afraid, would never be answered.
I was searching for any existant being within the Lucidity, when I noticed a small dot quite a long way away. It seemed to be traveling towards me at incredible speed, and it was not long before I realized what it was…Reality. The White was ripped away, and the salty sea, the rickety rowboat, and my painful thoughts all returned.

Whatever the Lucidity was, I longed to return to it and achieve that Perfect Clarity once more.

This was so perfectly depressing! I liked it.... very nice... I liked it.

And What purpose does the capital for Fire or Reality or Despair have? I'm a bit slow tonight, I can't really see the significance.

But good job with this, it was very discriptive.

The black rose was right it was perfect in description giving it a very depressing feel. Forgive me of my ignorance but, is this going to be continued?

It's not ignorant to ask someone if they will continue a piece of work! (It's a perfectly logical question to ask, in fact ) Once "The Great Hammer of Inspiration" smashes my face in, yes. I will continue it, hopefully.

My writing seems so hollow without inspiration...

The capitalization will have a significance, but not at this point. :

What they said. Kinda sad.

It's not ignorant to ask someone if they will continue a piece of work! (It's a perfectly logical question to ask, in fact ) Once "The Great Hammer of Inspiration" smashes my face in, yes. I will continue it, hopefully.

My writing seems so hollow without inspiration...

The capitalization will have a significance, but not at this point. :

Well I just wasn't sure if this was some kind of writing I wasn't familiar with. That's why I asked. But now that I know I'm itching to read the next part.

My body was numb. I was breathing, yet I felt so lifeless. Something inside me would not accept death—would not accept defeat. Something inside me fought. The thirst, the hunger, the sorrow, all took second place to this inner Engine. At some point, it even began to feel like I was not thirsty or hungry at all…I stared up at the dark, cloudy sky. The moon was peeping through a hole in the clouds, casting a single beam onto me.
“What do you look for, Child?”
The voice from nowhere startled me. I sat up, and looked all around me. There was nothing but water.
Hallucinations…I thought to myself, lying back down.
“Hallucinations? Ha. You’re not that crazy yet. Give it one more day,” chuckled the voice
“Who—Who’s there?” I called out into the air.
“Me. Now, I asked you a question. What are you looking for?”
I hesitated and shook my head, and once more lay down.
“Tsk. Poor man won’t even listen to me. Must be really messed up.”
I sat up with a quick jolt and shouted, “Leave me be!”
There was no response. Satisfied in my triumph over the Voice, I tried to fall asleep again, but it was not until a few moments later that the voice spoke up again.
“Honestly, an old man like me won’t go away if you shout at him. You’d have to at least poke me with a stick or something.”
The Voice sounded closer. I sat up, and before me, sitting cross-legged on the other end of the tiny boat, was an old man. His face was wrinkled and his hair was white. His long beard hung down to the bottom of the boat, and his eyes were squinting. He was dressed in some ornate, foreign gold gown of some sort. On his head was a silver, jeweled crown, and in his hand was a wooden staff.
“You just now notice me? I’ve been in this boat since you shoved off from the island.”
This was it. I convinced myself I was truly insane. My eyes darted around fiercely and I started sweating profusely.
“You look a little nerv—”
“Silence! You are not to speak! I don’t want to hear you! Go away!”
The man gave me a strange look, and then tapped me on the head with his staff. “Pull yourself together.” The man’s demeanor was no longer humorous; a scowl had crossed his face.
“Who—Who are you?” I asked him, finally beginning to believe my own eyes.
“There are few men who lack a name, but there are many that refuse to tell it.”
I stared at him.
He scratched his head and said, “Without my name, I would still exist right here in front of you, wouldn’t I? My existence would not be altered by the knowledge, or lack thereof, of my label?”
I nodded, desperately trying to ponder why this possibly imaginary old man was playing mind games. At the time, it seemed ridiculous. My mind screamed at the stress, and my heart longed to stop in peace. But there was this man, and he was no hallucination.
“Good, good. I see you’re no longer questioning me. That means you’re on your way to recovery…”
“Recovery?” I queried.
“Recovery from your bout of wallowing in self-pity,” he quickly replied, rolling his eyes.
As I spoke with this man, my thoughts stabilized. Things grew sharp and clear. I blinked, and there was Clarity. I looked all around me in amazement, for I had returned to the White Space.
“Do you know what this place is?” the old man asked. The boat had disappeared, along with the sea, and the old man floated in the air where he sat.
I was finally able to respond in a slightly intellectual way. “Some kind of…refuge?”
“I see. Your refuge focuses your mind. I can see it in your eyes; they are less clouded, less distraught. Your fear and sorrow fades from your face. I can see it,”
His comment puzzled me. “How do you mean?”
“This place has a different effect on different people, my boy. When I enter the
Lucidity, I can see,” he replied.
I was still confused.
Seeing the look on my face, the man quickly added, “I’m blind Out There. But in
Here I can see. Make sense?”
I nodded. “What is Lucidity?”
“I thought you’d never ask…”

Formatting is bad, sorry. Also, if you can't tell, there was a serious mood change. I was in a weird mood when I wrote the first part, and I can't seem to emulate said mood.

I thoiyght both pieces were good, in the first one I arnt sure about the extensive use of elipses(sp?)