Young Writers Society

That's pretty intriguing; I want to know more. But for some reason, sentences which have the main character's full name in them usually bother me. :s

What do you fear the most?

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important. Or, if I was feeling average, I would write – spiders, horror movies – something clichéd and nestled well into the realm of acceptability. But not now. Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Flesh.

Maybe 8/10ish. I would read the rest of what was happening. You got me interested and now I want to know why.

--

Her.
“Finally.” I croaked. I urged my feet to move toward her, but they seemed to be frozen in place by the early autumnal frost. I had been waiting for her for 15 years. “Mom.” I shouted hysterically, waving my hands like a mad-woman. She continued to walk away from me with her head bowed against the frigid, salty air from above the sea.
I writhed in place trying to rid myself of my invisible captor as she walked adamantly toward Luna General Hospital. Her heavy coat slid from her shoulders and exposed two infants with thick black hair. Just like mine.

Technically, it's more than one paragraph but yeah.

8/10. It was a bit confusing, and some of the descriptions didn't match up, but it definitely caught and held me. I wanted to read more.

-------------

When I was born, my mother died.

She took all the time in the world to die, coughing and sputtering and crying, holding my screaming little body with her shaking white hands. The wind blew and shook the shutters outside the little room at the hospital; rain spat rage at the glass, as if trying to break in. Nurses scrambled around the hospital bed, mopping up blood, sticking in needles, and shouting orders. But by the time a nurse had bothered to remove my writhing body from my mother’s unfeeling hands, she was fading away, leaving me to be cared for by my father, who stood terrified and unmoving at the door.


~Sunny

Depending on the genre I would read on. If it's just regular fiction I wouldn't but if it was fantasy or something like a series of unfortunate events, I would most definitely read on.

- - - - -

Guinevere’s first encounter with Lucas was inconsequential to say the least. It occurred in a small book store in Chicago, and Lucas was very surprised by her behavior. The store was quiet as the day was a rather ordinary one to say the least. Lucas worked at the store - he had been stationed there. And on this particularly quiet Saturday afternoon, the little bell above the door rang disturbing the tranquil silence. And Lucas perked up to notice his new potential costumer.

It's okay - frankly, nothing exceptional. There are issues with repetition within: two "to say the least"s, two sentences beginning with "and." Also, I'm wondering if the encounter was inconsequential, how come he was "very surprised for her behavior?" That doesn't make sense.
While it sounds like something interesting might happen after this paragraph, if it didn't live up to that expectation pretty immediately, I wouldn't read anymore.
---

The wreckage of Flight 287 still smoldered on the horizon. Adva felt as if she and the other survivors should be farther away. They had been walking so long. But every time she looked over her shoulder—frequently, frightened—the pillar of smoke rising to the sky was still towering above her. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself. The sticky substance on the sleeve of the pilot’s coat made Adva jerk her fingers away. They came back red.

“This way.” Saul’s voice jarred her back into motion. Adva slid down the hill as directed, stumbling on roots, jagged twigs snapping her skin, scraping. She bit her lip when her feet met the flat earth again, too abruptly. Hours before, she had been giddily anticipating university. Now, she spat out a mouthful of blood and prayed that her cousin really knew where he was leading them.

That's two. Oh well.

8/10
I would certainly want to read to find out what happened to cause the plane to crash, I think it would be a bit more interesting if you alluded to that in the beginning.

--------

A lovely tortoiseshell cat sat on a windowsill in her human’s home and stared out into the rain as though she could see something, as thought she could hear something. Which she could…hear something that is; it was a sound resembling a baby bird falling out of a nest and crashing through the tree that it lived in. It sounded like that all the way to the thud at the bottom of the tree, followed closely by, “Shit! Great, I hate this place all ready. I hope someone lights you on fire you stupid tree.”

Clearly not a baby bird.

Hmm... 5/10. The first couple of lines are not very interesting and have some spelling/grammer issues. I like how it changes at the end though, and adds humour.

------------------------------

The open cart creaked incessantly as it bumped and rattled its way over the windswept moor. The five prisoners, who were seated in the tray and bound by chains, gazed dully at their surroundings. Their thoughts were muddled, they felt confused and alone, their future was uncertain. One of the young prisoners found tears slipping down his cheeks as he began to remember how the week had started, before the sentence.

Hmm... It wasn't all that catchy. I would read on to find out who these prisoners are though, and who has control of them, so I guess in a way it is catchy. It just doesn't really POP, you know?

____________

A cry of surprised pain rose out over the crack of a gunshot. The scream broke off with a gurgling, choked sound, and a boy in his late teens clutched his now-bloodied stomach and fell over backwards. As he hit the ground, a petite girl about the same age detached herself from the shadows surrounding the edges of the dark forest clearing. She was wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans, and her long tangles of curly, mousy-brown hair were pulled back into a ponytail. Flashes of starlight glinted off her wire-rimmed glasses.

I would definitly read it. It grabs my attention from the first line. I'd really really want to find out what happens. 10/10

_____________________________________________________


I wasn't that upset. Don’t get me wrong, mother was a lovely lady. After a week or so I realised there’s no point getting upset over something I’m never going to be able to change. I couldn’t even prevent her death. So there’s nothing for me to get upset about. I don’t tell anyone I’m not upset. They’d think I was being heartless. – Maybe even selfish. I don’t like how I think. I’d like to be upset, but there’s nothing to be upset about. Nobody can change how they feel. They can change how they act. But not how they feel inside, how they might think.

6.5/10 Not bad, just nothing that really stood out, either....a little bit of description or action would improve it significantly.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

He was in the bathroom, trying to get a grip on himself; maintain awareness, collect his calm, and get his butt back out there. There was no time to hunker down and let time drip by. One last glance in the mirror, his jet-black hair hanging down, one bang being an irritant, hanging down over one eye. He swiped at it clumsily, breathing heavy. Still trying to get a grip. Still trying to be a man. Try to slow his heart down. God, it was hitting his ribcage like a savage hook to the body. And he knew about that; plenty about that kind of business. It didn’t change the fact that he stood there, still staring at the mirror, at the small, pale young man glaring back at him, their twin hazel-colored eyes loaded with anger and frustration. Fear.

8/10 There's not really much of a hook in the beginning of the first sentence, but it gets better as the paragraph goes on.
----------
Faster, faster, the woman told herself as she darted though the dark trees, a black cloak streaming behind her. Her lungs heaved, beads of sweat rolled down her face, her legs started to ache, and her whole body burned as if fire was coursing through her veins. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off; exhaustion was setting in.

8/10 excellent kick to the start. You're already running wondering what's going on, and that's the point. Hectic madness that leaves you as exhausted at the protagonist is. Very nicely done.

--------------------------------
New novel, obviously. Should that be a surprise anymore? I lose more focus than anyone here, I think:

Andrew “AJ” Johnson strode his way through the locker room, towards the gym court. His face was grim, thickened stubble set against a clenched jaw. Eyes dark, stormy, the hurricane within building up, slowly gathering its strength. He wore a large, loose-fitting jacket with hood, the hood cast over his head. On his hands were sixteen-ounce gloves, as blue as his eyes. He halted halfway through the locker room, passing row after row of the metallic boxes before spotting a young man hunched over the benches, bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. This boy looked similar to AJ, though younger. Skinnier, a skeleton with flesh wrapped around his frame tight, especially around the eyes, though when AJ met those eyes, he saw only himself.

6/10

Sorry, but I didn't like it. It makes me want to read more, but there are a lot of prose issues and weird sentences. Like this one:

"He halted halfway through the locker room, passing row after row of the metallic boxes before spotting a young man hunched over the benches, bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow."

How can he be passing row after row of lockers if he's halted?

________________________________________________________________________________

All of it happened in a fraction of a second, yet to the fifteen year-old boy sitting in the ornate wooden chair, it seemed to stretch on endlessly. He saw with perfect detail the dagger spinning through the air like an acrobat. His gray eyes caught every flash of reflected torchlight on the dagger’s curved blade. He tried to look away, but despite all efforts, he couldn’t miss every drop of blood that sprung from his father’s torn throat.

Epic, flash-bang beginning. The kind I like. 8.5/10
--------------------------------------------------------------

I stand here, alive and breathing despite your will. There’s been so many conflicts, so many bums who’ve stood in my way. So many warriors who have tried to erode my will. So many liars tried to deceive me, stab me in the back. Too many traitors. I lacked friends, and could trust no one but myself, relying on my strength, my power. My blood and sweat have stained the concrete of the courts, and have been swallowed up by the desert sands. My body has been scarred, and my nose is so crooked that you can tell from a mile away I got decked good on more than one occasion. But these physical sacrifices were necessary. I am here now, and there is nothing but peace. I have found myself, and the world has taken me in, accepted me as a long-lost brother. I am one with the desert, a body united with its soul once again.

8.5/10 Definitely very intriguing. I already want to read more.


------------------

Um, I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to use this, it's just a piece that came to me last night, but I like it, so I thought I'd get some input:

I won't let myself fall. Because the truth is, once you do, no one is going to pull you back up. The people who swore they'd be there are nowhere in sight, and you're left floating in an ocean with night rapidly descending. Sure, there'll be people who try to help. You can sit there and tread water for as long as you can while your friends stand on the shore and toss you life preservers that don't float, but no one is going yo jump in and pull you safety, and what it comes down to is it's getting dark and the sharks are circling closer and you're still all alone. You won't survive if you have to rely on other people.