Young Writers Society

There were times where I found myself lost, not knowing what to do, where to go, or how I got myself here. But soon she would appear, like the northern star to guide my way. It was like a fantastical dream, too good to be true. Somehow she knew before I did, somehow she saved me from myself. Still the night is young, and it howls relentlessly. I would speak to the night only to find my voice lost in the wind. Blindfolded in darkness, even the slightest glimmer of light would have given me hope.


It was that time of year, where the orchards would bloom. I stood in the midst of a frenzy of plants blooming a storm of morning glories, cherry blossoms, and roses. I was lucky, today I would experience for the first time a cherry blossom blizzard. I stood patiently with my eyes closed, daydreaming as usual, when all of a sudden the wind picked up. Swooping under my arms I staggered forward but stopped myself in time, I felt petals brushing against my neck and cheeks. I opened my eyes and there they were, as if the petals had come alive, they flew across the sky and danced gracefully. I watched the flurry of petals fly up into the sky, mix and matching with the surrounding colors of buttercups, tulips, roses, and then as suddenly as it had came it stopped. The wind died and all the petals gently fell to the ground, swaying side to side as they gleamed and bathed in the sunlight. My pocket buzzed and I pulled out my phone, it was her, my beloved. She had texted me a message, "Look behind you." Sure enough, there she stood. Smiling happily with a straw basket full of flowers of all sorts arranged beautifully across one open side. Her red rose enlightened by the sun, sat atop the side of her hat, tucked in by a yellow sash that strapped around, neatly tucked away in the back leaving two strands blowing in the wind. Her one piece dress was a blur of flowers of different colors accompanied by another red sash around her waist. She wore sandals that had yellow straps, and at the point where the two straps met was a tiny little red flower with a yellow centre. Gorgeous as usual, she stepped forward and slipped plunging forward. Quickly I knelt down and braced her as she fell into my arms, I laughed, "You." She laughed back, "Me."

Interesting..................In the words of William Burroughs, "pay it all pay it all pay it all back". I think this is ok, but it kind of tells us about how lost this guy is, instead of using descriptive language to hint his isolation and his confusion. I think you need to edit it. Also, is this a segment from a story, or is this a poem? I am confused about your structure. Just a few things to consider. Oh, and welcome to YWS

Yeah, I'm new here. I don't know what to call what I write, I only know that I write. It's a hobby that I love

this is so Dark. but it's meaningful and I couldn't relate more honestly. My favorite part

I would speak to the night only to find my voice lost in the wind. Blindfolded in darkness, even the slightest glimmer of light would have given me hope.

To me , that was epicness. LIIIKEE!

Thanks Whiterose ^-^