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Young Writers Society


The Description Game



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Sun May 25, 2014 1:51 am
haileyskelley says...



You fear everything, nothing is ever right to you. You don't know what will happen next, nor will you ever know. You never know how to approach a situation without having possible repurcussions. You fear the future.
New word: Fear
[color=#00FFFF]Hailey[/color]
  





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Sun May 25, 2014 2:49 am
lostthought says...



The monster in your closet that you have never actually seen but you know is in there.

The Boogy Man that hides under your bed, waiting for you to fall asleep so he can get you.

The branch that hits the window at night during a storm, lightning's light making it seem like a hand trying to get in.

The toys that lay everywhere, their grins brightened to seem as if they are planning on killing you.

The squeak of the stairs as the monsters of the night climb up and up and up to take you away from your home forever.

The nightmares that plague your dreams night after night, stealing your sanity until, finally, you snap.

New word: Hobbits

@GoldFlame
"Aaloo is potato in urdu, like AAAAAA-loo, or like AAAAA-look such delicious deliciousness."
-Pompadour

"MY SOUL IS A GREY ABYSS"
-QueenOfHearts
  





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Mon May 26, 2014 1:57 am
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GoldFlame says...



@lostthought, you are amazing.

He was a jolly, pink-cheeked fellow, somewhat reminiscent of Santa Clause, as the Big People called it. His closet was stuffed with loud greens, loud reds, and screaming yellows, and buttons polished so thickly they liquefied any light they came in contact with. But that wasn't saying the man stood out in a crowd. He was considered an average hobbit.

The next word is planet.
“He leant tensely against the wall and frowned like a man trying to unbend a corkscrew by telekinesis.” – Douglas Adams
  





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Mon May 26, 2014 2:22 am
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Snowery says...



Circling within the cosmos amongst stardust and asteroids are shperical bodies so large, so fantastical that they were named after gods. There are those that breathe toxic gasses, those who wore rings, those whose hearts had frozen and those that cry tears of lava. One in particular wanted to be covered in hues of blues, greens, browns and white. It sought true beauty by giving life to all those who walked upon it. It moves with the other silently and steadily, on their eternal pilgrimage around the sun.

Alrighty, the next word is brownies
The World Is Mine.
  





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Wed May 28, 2014 3:34 am
Holysocks says...



He glanced down at the plate of edible heart attacks. Stacked three lairs high, and covered in a thick, glossy icing, the brownies seemed to almost sing to Albert. Their chocolaty crumbs tumbling to the base of the dish, thundering in the ears of ants and other tiny creatures. Albert wondered if they'd taste anything like the ones his Grandmother had made. The ones that a slight crispness on the edges, and were nearly cookie dough on the inside.

Oh well! XP Next word: Shadow.
100% autistic
  





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Wed May 28, 2014 5:44 am
Morrigan says...



She didn't think that shadows could be so comforting, but in the July heat and among all the harsh, light reflecting concrete here in the city, Anne was grateful for the pockets of coolness caused by the skyscrapers. As she scurried into the relief of the darkness, her vision diminished to nearly nothing for a moment before she wiped the sweat from her brow, basking in the reprieve from the swelter of summer as a construction worker would sink into a luxurious bath.

Next word: bottle
"So many poems growing outta them they're practically a poet-tree"
Gringoamericano
  





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Wed May 28, 2014 5:54 am
Apricity says...



You have to know the world doesn't revolve around you, darling. The winter wind left laceration upon her open cheek as the words echoed around her crumbling thoughts. She watched his fading back, much like the last rays of light swallowed by the night. Her fingers twitched lightly, tracing invisible edges amidst the air. Wishing she could shatter the bottle that trapped her, in her own bubble.

Next word: Daylight
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'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

~Open for business~
  





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Wed May 28, 2014 7:12 am
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Pompadour says...



A corpse of faded yellow hung against the pitch-blackness of the sky, like a lily that droops towards the parched pavements of this earth. It left pools of shattered misery on your faded skin; opalescent fireworks that trailed through open spaces, like a snake that is out to find its next victim. It was alive, yet dead; obedient, yet careless. You marveled at how the world is such a contradictory place, where even the most playful of creation breathes danger with every step.
Daylight.

Next word: Breathing.
How to format poetry on YWS

this sky where we live is no place to lose your wings
  





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Wed May 28, 2014 7:56 am
deleted3 says...



The room is not silent, they said SILENCE at the beginning of the test, but it is not silent. How am I supposed to focus with the mouth-breather behind me sucking in volumes with each inhalation, blasting out enough to make the summer breeze outside feel conquered? My goodness, I think my test paper almost flipped over with the last blast. Can I complain to the invigilator about the sheer noise the guy is making by merely converting oxygen to carbon dioxide? His lungs are like an oversized, inefficient factory, and if I fail this test, it's not because I didn't study, it's because of this human wind fan!

Next Word: Printer
Love to Live, Live to Love <--- My Motto
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Thu May 29, 2014 7:25 pm
wrenflyingaway says...



The printer was a blocky machine sitting there in the middle of the room. It was a shade of dull and uninteresting gray. No one used it. Cobwebs had grown on its side. It was a broken down and useless machine.

Next word: raven
'Everyone is a reader...some just haven't found their favorite book yet.'
-Unknown
  





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Thu May 29, 2014 8:06 pm
Crunch says...



Its ebony-shaded beak snapped in cold malice as its razor-sharp talons raked into the flesh of its helpless victim. Its black, beady eyes spoke of a vast, heartless cunning that completely consumed its thought, leaving no room for mercy or honor of any kind. Its feathers were not only evil omens; they were ridged like the scales of a dragon, or perhaps more like the armor of a dreaded shadow-knight. It always laid its silent vigil over the graveyards and cemeteries, and its harsh, grating cries never left the memories of those who heard them. Not even in death.

Next Word: Sword
"Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the universe, or we are not.
Both are equally terrifying."

-Arthur C. Clarke
  





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Fri May 30, 2014 2:09 pm
Morrigan says...



Though dripping with gore, Azmeilar shone with a gleam of menace. Held aloft, it seemed to rally the army of ragged troops, urging them on to one last stand. The country had to be saved-- with a swiftness birthed from gravity, the great blade thunked into some poor man's collarbone, causing him to fall to earth, ashen faced and screaming. Azmeilar would be the savior of the country, shining with blue light, infusing the army with courage.

Next word: breakfast
"So many poems growing outta them they're practically a poet-tree"
Gringoamericano
  





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Mon Jun 16, 2014 2:22 am
Moriah Leila says...



The scent of smoky bacon assassinated Harlow's nose as she stretched in bed. She groggily made her way downstairs to the music of eggs being whisked. She rounded the corner just in time to see her dad pour the vivid yellow mixture into a pan. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, tangy and thick with pulp. She startled as a piece of toast sprang up from the toaster like a tiger pouncing on its prey.


The next word is hair
I am not addicted to reading, I can quit as soon as I finish one more chapter.
  





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Thu Jul 31, 2014 8:51 am
sleepette says...



Flaxen beauty. Like a stifling summer day; like fields of wheat at sunrise, like thin little wisps of golden thread embroidered around a flowering face. It is light and it is delicate and it is horrifically unkempt, parted this way and that, wild, witless. It reaches not far past her shoulders, brushing her collarbones like it wants to play a game, and it is oft blemished with something or other, perhaps paint or mascara or tea, if not chocolate or some sort of alcohol. It was lighter when she was young, almost white like the walls in which she was brought up, because, "Life is a canvas," her father said, "and you are the color." In second grade it was short and choppy and bright blue, in seventh it was dip-dyed pink, in high school it was long and flowing though she only ever kept it up.

-

Next word is fingers.
and there are no happy endings, because nothing ends.
  





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Mon Mar 23, 2015 1:08 am
WrittenEdge says...



So lean and nimble, she can practically hear every bone in his fingers grind against one another as the elderly man shakily sticks a needle through her skin. The cold feeds on his fingers like frost, every touch sending a shiver down her spine. His nails are unusually well-kept, being no longer than the tip of his finger; yet, his finger tip alone is rough to the touch, years of working evident.

The next word shall be... utopia.
~Edge
  








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