Young Writers Society

Cold. The snow fell down, softly, in my face. Cold. Cold, like the corpses of my friends, that were gunned down back in the middle of nowhere, gunned down for some reason they didn't even begin to understand. Cold, as when I lied, silent, under their shredded bodies, covered in blood, hiding from them. Cold is what I live. Cold is what I feel. You wanna know what cold is?

Then read, motherfucker.

I mean, you don't really get the to the real icing of the cake until the narrator starts insulting the reader.

Another one:

Listen to the sound of the wind. Listen to the stories it brings. My story. Your story. The story of some little creepy kid, who thinks about killing his mother a lot. The story of a multi-billionaire, with a B, whose sexual fantasies disgust even the most adept pornographer. This story is not any of those. This story is not in the wind.

This story happens in space.

GALAXY HWYAUHE-232XYE9: Year 283442

'Hull pressure compromised,' the computer said breathlessly.

Dear American Pigs
You will All Die on the first day of Radaman
Wait... what did i say
Radaman? Yes dennis Radaman will kill you all with his hair
*giggles*
Americans you shall die in a ball of fire on the first day of rama..*giggle*
Im sorry i cant say it Its him over there hes making silly faces .
Man 1: Come on bin larden hurry up
Larden: Babi

Not exactly an opening line just something i thought of

‘Fie.’ Franaldo felt a familiar flaunt, floundered by frosty fingers - frozen by a farce of Fate - and faltered. Feelings - like a fever - forever forbidden, yet forever firm. To fight for a flutter of flowers… forever?

He touched her genital face, stroked her genitally.

Sureal...that's sure a helluvalot of "f"s.

this is my story and its long and tragic and its just like the 1 out of shakespeer u know the 1 with the lovrs.

Hey wheres my pen!

Gal: I am the master of the F words.

"Hello, Mrs. Jones," he said.
"Hello, Mr. Smith," she said.
"You're looking very well today, Mrs. Jones," he said.
"You're looking very well today too, Mr. Jones," she said.

Once upon a time...
*Warning...computer error. You can only write one more word.*
bother.

Before I begin this story, I must tell you that I am a much better writer than Tolkein or C.S. Lewis or J.K. Rowling. So be prepared to be blown away, because they were ameteurs, and I'm much better than them.

Reading this book will cause you to die.

I'm not sure where to begin this story. I might begin it where Jessicca was at the grocery store trying to decide between crunchy and smooth peanut butter... No, wait, I'll start with the part where Andy wakes up and realizes he has nothing to do so he goes to sleep again. Or no! I know! I'll start at the part where...

Before you read, I want to tell you that the main character dies at the end.

I'm not quite sure where I can begin my story. I would liek to skip to the part with all the action, but then there is some stuff I need to tell you. You can download the introduction at www.lamestwriting.com and read the rest of the story here. I'll probably hire someone to do it, because I'm too lazy to do it. Anyways, here goes...