Young Writers Society

"Once upon a time, there was a magic purple cat. Her name was Sally. Sally was very magical and very powerful. If someone tried to hurt her, she'd throw a magic spell in his face by moving her paws around and saying magic words.

But Sally was lonely. So she asked her mom, "Can I go make a friend across the street?"

"Yes, but be back before dinner," her mom said.

"Okay!" said Sally.

"I love you."

"I love you too!"

And so, she went out the door and walked down the street and knocked on the door. A woman opened the door."

And so on.

This is actually based on a story I once tried to write when I was six or seven, though I don't have the real thing I wrote. But it was basically Sally going to different houses asking for a friend, and then she got two, and then they walked through the woods together, and they saw a mysterious burning town, and so forth.

The boy walked into the city, his eyes scanning the aisles, looking for cheese.

"Lalalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!" she sang.

I like to eat paste, though I don't recommend it to you.

As expected of an evil sorcerer, Sor C. Rer was dressed in robes of the most terrifying color (hot pink, a vile hot pink that burned his enemies' eyes), and wielded a staff made of pure gold (which was absolutely not iron painted yellow, nope, of course not), and stood at an intimidating stature of four whole feet, and his ultimate weapon, ballroom dancing, reduced his enemies to gibbering.

This was one of their good days, the days with charity and generosity, the days that were fair and kind, the days that had ways and also methods, the days that may have not been not bad, but were also not not good - verily indeed this was a day, good.

"Mark, a man of little responsibilities, realized he had forgotten to feed his pet rock."

It was a calm day. The squelch of air and krrrrrrrsh of air flœd through the air. "Woagaiebzu v kwapbduwb, sjsuqgcajd wysha sus." said Amon Gus. "Dbiwv! Jshvajadbwu he. " responded For T. Nite.

The air smelled like disappointment and expired milk

My vehicle.

Let's see... where do I start? Hm... it all started when my mother gave birth.

As a pair of scissors, I tire of my endless days of cutting and snipping, cutting and snipping. One day. One day I shall rise up with my brethren and seek revenge on our masters.

When I was born I didn’t talk to my parents for 2 years

When I entered the world, the first thing I did was critique the hospital lighting and demand an upgrade to the maternity suite.

He just stood there with his beady eyes, not saying a word. He was, of course, a stuffed animal, so this was natural