z

Young Writers Society


Metaphorical Madness



User avatar
440 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 6836
Reviews: 440
Mon Apr 18, 2016 4:13 am
View Likes
Wolfi says...



Here's how this game works ~

Person 1 says three random nouns or single ideas.
Ex. Moon, Happiness, Pencil

Person 2 uses those three words to make a nonsensical sentence. It should be very short and very simple. The tenses of the three words can be altered to your wishes. Only one extra (but optional) verb, adjective, adverb, or noun can be added, but words such as to, and, the, etc. can be used as much as you need. Most importantly, your sentence shouldn't make any logical sense!
Ex. Pencil happiness to the moon.

Person 3 takes that nonsensical sentence and turns it into something that makes sense. This time, no rules apply to how much you're allowed to add.
Ex. Her sketch was almost complete. All she had left to do was give a smile to the man on the moon.

Once Person 3 has written their sentences, they must leave three new words for the next round.

With that, let's get started!

---


Candle, Revolution, Heart
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.
  





User avatar
456 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 69427
Reviews: 456
Mon Apr 18, 2016 5:45 am
View Likes
EternalRain says...



Oooh!! This should be fun! :)

Candle hearts burn revolution.
“Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.”

-- Lemony Snicket


Check out Squills!

Need a Review?
  





User avatar
440 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 6836
Reviews: 440
Tue Apr 19, 2016 1:47 pm
Wolfi says...



From the cabinet she removed three heart-shaped candles hewn from red wax and laid them on the table. Then she lit each wick, one by one. Her eyes danced with the flames' glow. Red wax dripped onto the table like blood.

The man who stood only a few feet away recognized the symbolism and dropped his sword in revulsion.

---

Grey, Pickle, Ceiling
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.
  





User avatar
279 Reviews

Supporter


Gender: Female
Points: 25891
Reviews: 279
Tue Apr 19, 2016 2:06 pm
Steggy says...



Pickle grey ceiling tiles are sickening.
You are like a blacksmith's hammer, you always forge people's happiness until the coal heating up the forge turns to ash. Then you just refuel it and start over. -Persistence (2015)

You have so much potential and love bursting in you. -Omnom
  





User avatar
862 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 29096
Reviews: 862
Tue Apr 19, 2016 2:41 pm
View Likes
Morrigan says...



The ceiling tiles of the waiting room were a nauseating green-gray. I stared at them, counting the tiles as I waited for my appointment; my mother had made me come. I counted 16 before my steady, shallow breaths became vicious coughing. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and spat into it. Pickle green. Infection.

Egg, glass, dismissal.
"So many poems growing outta them they're practically a poet-tree"
Gringoamericano
  





User avatar
494 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 0
Reviews: 494
Tue Apr 19, 2016 4:46 pm
View Likes
Holysocks says...



The egg dismissed the glass shell.
100% autistic
  





User avatar
440 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 6836
Reviews: 440
Thu Apr 21, 2016 1:48 am
Wolfi says...



Monday morning I returned to the barn to check on what Pa calls the incubator. I dragged the milking stool over to sit on, then pressed my face against the warm glass and absently counted the eggs. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve... Twelve?!

Ma had told me there were a dozen eggs, not twelve. Everyone knows a baker's dozen is thirteen, so either someone stole an egg or one of them up and took off.

---

Heist, Sardonic, Tinfoil
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.
  





User avatar
107 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 402
Reviews: 107
Thu Apr 21, 2016 7:03 am
View Likes
Persistence says...



Your tinfoil sardonicises heists.
Deep thoughts remind me of unfinished
  





User avatar
440 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 6836
Reviews: 440
Sat May 07, 2016 6:36 pm
Wolfi says...



The way the punks used tinfoil masks as a form of disguise made the whole thing seem almost like a joke. Almost. The guns they had pointed at us were, after all, very real.

---

Battery, Dust, Impatience.
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.
  





User avatar
1162 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 32055
Reviews: 1162
Tue May 10, 2016 10:12 pm
Carlito says...



Battery dust has impatience.
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

Ask a Therapist!
I want to beta read your novel!


Ask me anything. Talk to me about anything. Seriously. My PM box is always open <3
  





User avatar
472 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 25
Reviews: 472
Sun May 22, 2016 5:28 pm
View Likes
Lightsong says...



The vacuum cleaner's battery had ran out when he needed to clean his dusty room, something he didn't consider when he used his entire month payment to buy it; in a state of rage that couldn't be suppressed, he smashed it to the wall, completely neglecting the logical action to buy a battery at the shop.

--

Sadness, Rainbow, Abs
"Writing, though, belongs first to the writer, and then to the reader, to the world.

The subject is a catalyst, a character, but our responsibility is, has to be, to the work."

- David L. Ulin
  





User avatar
79 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 250
Reviews: 79
Sun May 22, 2016 5:36 pm
Sevro says...



Only sad rainbows have abs.
"They think I'm still a child. The fools. Alexander was a child when he ruined his first nation."
—Darrow from the Red Rising trilogy by Pierce Brown<3


Spoiler! :
Formerly olsene and Caterpickle
  








cron
Poetry comes alive to me through recitation.
— Natalie Merchant