Young Writers Society

Monster, RockStar, Vault, you name it Jennifer had drank it for a morning wake up call before school. She was the connoisseur of energy drinks. She could tell you the prices, the best flavors and the ones that actually did as they advertised without missing a beat. Jennifer even considered creating her own energy drink, one with a snappy name and sleek visage of a container. Sadly, she would die of a caffiene attack from having consumed one too many energy drinks and her dream would be left unfulfilled. Much to the relief of health officials and PR persons everywhere.

Exactly 100 words.

Silence

Quiet filled the room, the house, the earth. Then came the real noise: Silence. No birds dared to chirp or, no mammal dared to suckle its young. All things came to a sudden halt in time as a comet filled the world with shadow. It burned with fiery passion and smoldered the air in front of its presence. It was the apotheosis of destruction, bringer of both light and darkness.

It came and came and came until it made contact. Then the real silence followed.

About 85 words

Beep.

Word: Beep
Count: 100

.:

The girl, standing at the corner of the James’ Street, checked her watch for the third time. She had been waiting an hour out in the cold, the red ribbons in her hair caught in the wind and tears welled up at the corner of her eyes.

Mother had abandoned her for sure.

People dodged past her with questioning glares, wondering what a young girl was doing on her own. A drunken woman came up to pluck at the girl’s dress.

“Them’s nice ribbons.” She said and limped away.

Beep, the alarm chimed. The street was emptying, Mother wasn’t coming.

.:

Next topic: Music

A crowded room, dimly lit and smoky, she rested her head on his lap. The air was warm and smelled fresh with sweat. David and Karli were damp with it, dancing under the dull red beam that lit the rough wood floor. The angst-filled teenagers smudged together, close enough to taste, high on the music that pulsed somewhere above them. That sweet, thumping beat kept Railey here. Nights like these when nothing else mattered and not even morning could be a factor to stop the dancing. Railey looked up into Jeff’s hazy gray eyes, bloodshot by now. Intoxicated.

*No real resolution there. 98 words.

Next Topic: Portrait

Count: 106 -- close enough.

The portrait was exquisite; a masterpiece. Depicting a woman, an expression of infinite sadness on her ivory face, bathed in the reflection of a conflagration of colour that was the sunrise. In her arms lay a tiny wrapped bundle; a body, cold and blue.

Watching, Alex had the peculiar feeling that the woman was calling to him for help. Her eyes beseeched. Yet, the mouth never moved and the portrait remained still. Releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, he sighed. For some reason this painting moved him. Shaking off the feeling, he moved on.

Behind him, a crystal tear slid down the portrait.

Next Topic: Bears.

Count: 102. Oh well...

“Come on!” screamed Jennifer. “Please come on!”

The baby black bear continued galloping in circles on his chubby legs. He moaned and growled, and balked at the flames in front of him that had already consumed his mother and sister. But he didn‘t come any nearer to Jennifer.

Just seconds were left. Jennifer leapt out, grabbed the bear, and ran. Gunfire cackled behind her. She bled as the bear clawed her arms, but she wouldn’t let him go. Racing towards that one spot of light, she felt a small drop of redemption, knowing she had finally done one good thing that day.

Next topic: Fruit trees

At first there was no sign of adverse effects, of change. The fruit trees still stood, vibrant and green, almost exuding a golden picturesque light. The radioactive spill had seemingly done nothing. The farmer was quite relieved, his prize winning stock wasn’t damaged and his income unaffected.

Then night fell.

The field was lit with an iridescent glow; an eerie sight. And slowly the fruit trees came to life. Branches shook, fruit fell, and an uncanny wailing filled the air. With a mighty wrench a lemon tree ripped itself out of the ground and ran off, down the road. Soon nothing was left but gaping holes in the ground.

Nxt topic: Necromancy.

The wind shrieked in the branches above and the moon stabbed through the last leaves left in the canopy, pinning them to the trees, never to fall off. They sat in the clearing, just the two of them; the only two who came. Afraid to look at each other; afraid to look away. The night air was cool to their cheeks and like fingers dancing across their skin, the essence of it bleeding into their auras which were too bright anyway for this place of darkness. The two sat there, hand in hand, and waited for the others to come.


Woot! Exactly 100 words!


Next topic: online community

The Young Writers Society online community flourished. Until one day, not in the far future, when BIG BROTHER had finally created the microchip to brain wash us all. We were taught how to teach monkeys how to teach us how to write, because the chip had gotten rid of all of our creative skills, like writing and eating and paint by numbers. The chip also allowed us to get online from our heads, so much for key boards. Think the words, then think “post” and there you have it. It’s posted. Then the system back fired, and our brains mashed.

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100 says MS words...

Next Topic: pink

The first thing Maria noticed was that everything was pink. The second thing she noticed was that this was not her bedroom. Sitting up, she looked around in astonishment at a room that was entirely, thoroughly and completely pink, down to the last speck of dust.
“Oh my god,” she said. “Where the hell am I?”
“IN THE DUNGEON OF DOOM!” A disembodied voice answered. “Muahaha.” It added, as an afterthought.
“Doom?” Maria was unconvinced. “It’s PINK.”
“Yes,” the voice admitted. “It was the only colour they had. Now, prepare for the pink fluffy bunnies of torture and despair!”
“Ahhhhhh!!!!!”

Next Topic: Nail polish.

‘Eek!’ screamed the pink nail polish to the black nail polish, ‘you’re all dried up!’
The other nail polish bottles gasped in astonishment and cried out, ‘like totally. Eew!’
The black nail polish suddenly realized that it was indeed all dried up. So it screamed too in utter disbelief, ‘Does this mean I have to leave the nail polish clan and go to exile?’ The other nail polish bottle simply pursed their glittering lips. Then, they walked away. The black nail polish, now distraught and disheartened sat down in a quite corner and began to weep. So is the fate of all the unused nail polish bottles.
- - - - -

next : jack-in-the-box

'No, dear, it's not real.' Mother rested a hand reassuringly upon his head and patted. 'Don't worry; it's just pops up.'

Peter watched it warily, sidelong and kept his hands in his lap. If it did spring, he could catch it before it managed any mayhem. But the plain black box did nothing. Only, he thought, its silver fastening shivered a bit.

'Is Jack another name like Old Nick?'

'Oh, don't be silly, Peter.' Mother's hand withdrew in exasperated levity. 'It's a doll. And where in heaven's name did you hear...?'

Only now the box was shuddering, and Peter, knowing quite well the better side of courage, scuffled to his feet and ran.


I think that's a word or two over...!_!
--


Next: fencing

I hope you mean the sport fencing like your avatar.
******
The thin metal blade came shooting towards me. The man infont of me was dressed all in white except for the black metal grates protecting his face. I leapt back before the sword could touch me.

I took a few steps forward and thrust my fencing sword at the white clothed person that i imagined was a dartboard infront of me. The quivering metal struck the man in the chest, bending the sword into a rainbow like arc.

The other player pulled off his mask, threw it to the floor a walked off in a stop.




Next: The Moon

The young girl looked up at the moon, shuddering, shivering. She knew the tales of old were false and there would be no raids on this night, but the eerily illuminating rays of its full form still summoned apprehension. She passed quickly under its gaze, wrapping her cloak around her as she made her way to the looming tower ahead.

Funny, she thought bitterly, hesitating as she reached for the familiar iron door, one would think I would fear what lay inside the tower more than what lurks outside of it.

~*~

91 words... And more of a scene from my story than anything else. Still, it's a first shot.

Next topic: Conversation.

Orchestrate for his tongue in technicolor, with witticisms drooping dappled delight, puns punches profound, extravagant exclamations exuding ecstasy. Translate his grunts to elysian sound. Find Gleeson and Pollock in his leprosy. She will forage in looks, in his writings' refuse. Grass to a cat, it will sicken her sweetly. Hair of the dog. No medicine tastes but ill. She would rather damage than doubt, starve than surrender. Martyr Madonna made muddy.
She will speak for him, and listen.
Read my mind, she will tell him and destiny.
The mind in want is deaf to disillusionment; love, dumb to it's demise.
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Next topic: Tied