Young Writers Society

Will make another character later today: I need to focus on Physics right now :/

EDIT:
Name: Samuel Blackburn

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Appearance:


History: East Ender born and bred. Sam never knew his father, spent most of his time as a kid between school and the street, only coming home to crash on the bed and sleep, trying to ignore what his mother had to do to make ends meet. Some of the people he hung out with were pretty shady, and by the time he was twelve he'd started smoking and running errands for some of the local gangs: it paid relatively well, and he got to keep his friends while helping his mother, who he still avoided seeing as much as he could. Then the demands his 'friends' made became greater as he became older, and in the end he managed to dig his heels in and refuse. It doesn't bear saying that it did not go very well. He moved out post-haste, managed to squirrel himself in some old, ratty apartment where no one cared how young he was as long as he could pay, and scraped some money as he could doing odd jobs here and there, always careful not to get involved with the gangs again; meeting them again would probably not be good for his health.

Personality: Light-hearted, uneasy with strangers, a sense of humor that favors sarcasm and irony over outright farce. Sam's creative, ingenious and curious, which can be both a blessing and a curse. One of his main problems is that when faced with a problem he cannot solve for longer than a few hours (or less), he'll wander off to do something more interesting. He's eager to please, earnest, but there's an underlying edge of cynicism, insecurity and depression that surfaces in the quiet, unoccupied moments.

Up For Love: Go for it.

Other: N/A

Is it okay if we start this? That way, we might be able to stop it from dying.

I'm ready when you guys are (second character coming up asap, too much homework last night :/)

Hey, I can tell you want this to carry on, so here goes:


Name: Kiara Kuipers
Age (16-21): 19
Gender: Female

Appearence (Picture if possible): Kiara had dark red hair, almost maroon. She has hazel eyes and very big eyelashes. Her skin is very light and she has alot of freckles. She is quite tall compared to her friends, and not too fat or skinny.
(Sorry Skins, I wasn't able to get a picture :( I might be able to get a picture later, ok?)

History: Kiara has lived in London for all her life, with her mum, dad and older brother. Her older brother moved out when he went to University and never came back. Apparently he lives with his girlfiend. Kiara stays with her parents and refused to live in the dorms. Her mum is a chef, and her dad is a teacher. Her life seems very perfect, but she doesn't seem to think so.

Personality: She is quite bubbly most of the time. Everyone loves her, but when something goes wrong, she gets really angry, and shouts...alot. She can be rude when she is standing up for someone or herself. But generally is very kind, caring and bubbly.

Up For Love: She once had a boyfriend that she really loved, then he had to move away, so she didn't seem like loving again.

Other: NONE


I HOPE I HELPED!
~Tamara
x

Okay, I'm going to try and start this now.
The first section of the storybook will be based on the lyrics of this song -

Uprising ~ Muse

The paranoia is in bloom,
The PR, the transmissions, will resume,
They'll try to push drugs to keep us all dumbed down,
And hope that we will never see the truth around,
(So come on!)

Another promise, another scene,
Another package not to keep us trapped in greed,
With all the green belts wrapped around our minds,
And endless red tape to keep the truth confined,
(So come on!)

They will not force us,
They will stop degrading us,
They will not control us,
And we will be victorious!
(So come on!)

Interchanging mind-control,
Come, let the revolution take its toll,
If you could flick a switch and open your third eye,
You'd see that we should never be afraid to die,
(So come on!)

Rise up and take the power back,
It's time that the fat cats had a heart attack,
You know that their time's coming to an end,
We have to unify and watch our flag ascend!
(So come on!)

They will not force us,
They will stop degrading us,
They will not control us,
And we will be victorious!
So come on!)

They will not force us,
They will stop degrading us,
They will not control us,
And we will be victorious!
(So come on!)


This section will be about the characters leaving London. They already know each other, and they have planned on leaving tonight. They will all meet Mitchell in somewhere specific, at a specific time.

I don't think I'll be able to post anything right now, except for this obviously, I need to sleep! Someone else can start if they want, that's fine with me!

Thanks,
xoxo Skins

Is it to late to join?

Character Profile-

Name: FranCisco Carter (Goes by Cisco)

Age (16-21): 19

Gender: Male

Appearance (Picture if possible): Shaggy blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. He's extremely tall.

History: Cisco was born in San Francisco and moved to London at age eleven so he still speaks and sounds like an American. He never quite liked it in London as much as he did in San Francisco. His mom is the Headmistress of an all girls boarding school and his father died four years ago.

Personality: Cisco is a very fun person. Everyone loves to be around him because he just radiates with his happiness. His laugh is contagious. But he has a short temper and often needs to be calmed.

Up For Love: I guess.

Other: None.

All right, I'll start before this falls to the second page.

Noelle Leicester - April 16, 6.45 PM

Noelle bit her lip, shivering in the freezing cold. Even her coat couldn't help. When had she ever seen a building with a broken heater? Probably never.

Was this how Allison lived before she died? In a filthy hub in the middle of this...alley? Horrible. Noelle drew her large duffel bag closer to herself, wishing it was warm. Wishing it was Grant.

Would he even be worried she disappeared? Or would he just forget about her and head to those meetings that always seemed to interrupt their dates?

"You. You made it. I thought you were gonna chicken out or something."

She looked up and saw Mitch's face. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I told you I couldn't take it any more, didn't I?"

The first night they met was the night she found out Allison killed herself. The night after her parents told her to ignore Allison. To skip Allison's funeral.

"Don't touch me -!" Noelle tried to wrestle her wrist away from the drunk, not that it did any help. Even with twenty gallons of alcohol in him, he was still stronger than her.

"She said not to touch her!" A brown-haired boy threw a punch and the drunk fell to the floor. He glanced at her. "You all right?"

She just bit her lip. Define "all right".

"I'm glad you told me about this. Glad you trusted me," Noelle said with a smile.

Mitch shrugged. "Figured there was something really wrong with you. You kept coming back here to the East End and you were always carrying a bottle with you. Don't think the others are going to take too well to you, though."

She knew. In fact, she'd prepared herself for it. They'd probably think she was a brat to carry so many things, just a brat who didn't take any of this seriously. "I'm ready. Let them hate me all they want."

"Don't worry, they will. Especially with what you're wearing."

So designer clothes were all she had. It wasn't as if she could just go out and buy stuff at the last minute. He only told her about this last night. It was hard enough to sneak out here.

Noelle switched the subject. "So how many more are there?"

Mitch paused for a while, probably counting in his head. "I don't know. I'm guessing I told around twelve, but I'm pretty sure some of them won't come. So that'll leave around eight, maybe? They all come from these parts. Well, most of them. Aren't you worried about your parents?"

"They can't force me to do anything anymore. They've already screwed up enough of my life as is." She shook her head. "I've had enough. They can go control someone else's life."

**Can we use swear words here, just a little? And not anything really nasty? If not, tell me...I was wondering.**

Trista Logans, April 16th-6:57pm:

I edged past the three drunk men standing outside a bar and pulled my hood up further, putting my face into shadow. I didn't want them spotting me and telling my parents. These three were my father's friends.

I hitched the strap of my bag up higher on my shoulder and turned a corner, jumping out of the reach of some drunk guy asking me for a smoke. Seriously, if he didn't drink so much then he could get his own.

Flipping my long plait of hair out of the way, I looked up to see two people standing at the far end of the alley. One was Mitch, I could tell it was him.

Mitch turned and so the did the girl with him. It was hard to see in the dark but there were definitely only two people here.

"I didn't think you'd come," Mitch said. I laughed without humour, trying not to let them notice the black eye my mother had given me an hour ago.

"You think I'm going to stay at home and get the life beaten out of me?" I asked and joined them, keeping some distance between me and Mitch. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he'd actually saved me from my Father's drunk friends, but still. I didn't trust him. The memory tried to surface but I pushed it away.

Mitch sighed and shook his head. I looked around, frowning when I noticed that the three of us were the only people there.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"They'll be here," Mitch said quietly. "Maybe not all of them, but they'll be here."

I fell silent and waited. I wasn't going to let anyone rule my life again. I had made a choice and that was to run away. This was my choice, not my parents.

Connor Whitaker, 7:01pm
As far as meetings places went, Whitaker thought as he strolled down the alley towards the little group of three, this might not be the most practical they could have found. However narrow and out of the way the alley was, he felt vaguely uncomfortable; it was too open a space, and if they lingered for a bit too long they might end up looking suspicious - a ragtag group of people assembled like this? Yeah, very inconspicuous.

He readjusted the high collar of his jacket to fend off the cold gust of wind that had just swept through. Could have been worse though, he supposed. It wasn't late enough that people would be looking for trouble (exception being that pair of drunkards he'd passed on the way, but that was a given in this neighborhood), and the cold weather would discourage them from leaving the relative comfort of their houses.

He drew to a stop once he found himself a few feet away from the three others, nodded in greetings and swept his eyes over them. He knew Oliver already - he had been the one to set the meeting, after all - but the two girls were strangers. And one of them was looking sorely out of place, expensive clothes and all. He knew the feeling.

"It'll be more than just us, I hope." It wasn't exactly a question, squirting just short of a demand.

"Yes", Oliver answered, perhaps a little curtly, and Whitaker made a small noise of acknowledgment as he leaned back against a wall, arms coming up to cross against his chest. Waiting was fine. He just hoped it'd be worth the while.

Scar, swear words are fine. As long as you don't use them in every sentence, that would just be annoying.

Mitchell - April 16, 6:23 pm

"Oi, mate!" Some drunken guy shouted at me. "You lookin' at me?"

Ignoring him completely, I continued walking across the grey pavement. The man was still shouting behind me; his friends had even joined in now. By the time I reached the end of the street, they'd finally given up.

I sighed heavily. I was unbelievably glad to be escaping from this shit town. My only concern was that no one else would show up. I wouldn't tell them this, but I didn't trust them completely. Mind you, I didn't really trust anyone. The only thing people were good at was letting you down.

I'd been waiting beside the wall for about twenty minutes or so, when I had the first thought of giving up. As I was about to turn around and leave, I saw a familiar face appear in the darkness ahead of me.

"You... You made it? I thought you were going to chicken out or something," I stared at Noelle, surprised.

A small, nervous smile appeared on her face. At least someone had shown up. Although, I hadn't given up hope on someone else showing up, not quite yet anyway.

My mind was set to ease when minutes later, Trista showed up. I was even happier when I saw Connor walking towards us at around seven o clock. The three of us began chatting quietly. There were a few unsure glances within the group, but I was pretty confident that everyone would get on okay. Or at least, I hoped they would...

Cisco Carter-7:00pm:

I readjusted the strap on my blue duffel bag as I quickly walked to the meeting area. I was already a little late. When I got there people were already talking about something. I sat down next to a shivering Noelle "Dress warmer." I muttered to her

Mine Six, 7:06 PM

"Shit." I whispered as the skin on my thumb's pad broke and blood dripped onto my papers. I popped it into my mouth and stopped playing guitar for a moment. I scribbled out the G flat I had had. It sounded weird. How about a... B chard? I strummed it. Yeah. I smacked a band-aid on my thumb and continued playing. I was starting to add words when my attic door opened, and my father walked in.
"Stop playing that bloody instrument!" he yelled. "We have the pastor downstairs! The pastor! And you... bloody playing is... for the love of God." he said as I went back to writing. On the incredibly rare occasions where they weren't pretending I didn't exist, my parents tended to preach to me about religion. Suddenly, my paper wasn't there. It was in my father's hands, being ripped to shreds.
"There! I've had enough of you bloody... writing! Three years! Three years it's been since you've put your foot in a church! I refuse to live with a condemned daughter under... under my roof!" He yelled. I sat there silently, looking at my life on the floor. I looked up coldly.
"You're right, Dad. You're absolutely right. You don't need a condemned daughter under your roof." I said, putting my guitar carefully in its case. I grabbed my Ipod, some music paper and a few assorted pens.
"Goodbye, Dad." I said, and I walked out of the room. He turned around to say something, but I ripped the bloody band-aid off my thumb and stuck it on his face.
As I walked out of the house, I flipped off the pastor.

I walked to where Mitch had told me, and found him there. "Hey." I greeted, waving my hand. Blood dripped down it. Damn. I had cut it deeper than I had thought. I popped my thumb into my mouth again and walked closer.

Um, did no one read the previous posts?

(( what? care to enlighten me in the DT?))

Samuel Blackburn, April 16th, 7:08

Crap crap crap, he was late. Every look he shot at his watch only confirmed this fact, and every twitch of the second's hand was like a silent accusation. He cursed under his breath and ran a little faster, jumping over fallen trashcans and avoiding an incoming taxi by the skin of his teeth as he rushed across the street. He spared a breath to swear at it but didn't slow down, brown eyes scanning the alleys he was passing, looking for one in particular.

He almost missed it, momentarily distracted by a pair of drunks coming his way and forcing him to swerve post-haste, lest he crash into them. He would've ran on, had he not caught some movement from the alley behind them. A glance around, and yeah, that was the place. He ducked away from the main street, slowing down to a jog then a walk as he approached the small group. Mitch was there. Thank god, he'd been worried he'd missed the meeting and they'd gone on without him.

"Hey everyone" he babbled in relief as he finally stopped, still shifting on the balls of his feet in nervousness and leftover energy. "Sorry I'm late." A sheepish grin, as he looked over the assembled people. Mitch was looking vaguely relieved at seeing him here, which made him feel a bit guilty for the delay. He shifted a bit more, uncomfortable, then sketched a smile. "I'm Sam Blackburn." Names were nice. Names made things more personal. People weren't strangers if you knew how they were called. "All of us in favor of getting the hell out of Dodge, huh?"