Young Writers Society

Rhynaedus stood up and put his face inches from Strikard’s. “You think it’s cowardly, to live to fight another day, to live to kill a few more Daranians to fjkldas;fdaslkjfdsal;fjdsaklf;dasjlk;fdsa.

“Whatever the hell you just said, yes.”

"You are lucky, you know," Atreus said. "Usually men with faces like yours end up with goats for company."

"So that's why you have a herd of them following you around all the time?" Xanthos shot back.

"They are a different type of goat that loves beauty," Atreus said, looking aloof, "Who are transfixed by mine."

Xanthos snorted as he drank his wine. "You really think so much of yourself?"

"Well, my dear Xanthos," Atreus replied, in a quite serious tone. "It is hard not to when I am so handsome, clever, witty, funny and loved by all. There is only so much modesty a man can take before he must burst foward and love himself just as much as everyone else. I mean, how can it be fair that everyone else can love me but if I do it myself I am questioned at every corner?"

"People tend to point out misguided love, you see."

"I really will immortalise you in one of my plays," Atreus said. "As Xanthos, the poorest comedian in all the land, where even the animals fled from his joke-telling."

Somehow I need to shimmy out an trek all the way across the floor and
to the bricks. From there, I need to be able to lift one up, walk over
to this grown man so silently that he won't hear me, and wack him
across the head. How much easier it sounded before, when it was still just
a newbron idea in my pink, soft brain.

I fight with her and we leave each other in a fight!

Sleep had been a fast runner, and reached me first.

‘Will she survive?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Doctor, I need more information than that.’
‘I’m sorry Lord Militant, that’s the best I can give you. She took a long time to receive medical care.’
‘Damn…’
‘Sir… do you know what her name is?’
‘Lieutenant Colonel Haart said she’s called Lucy.’
‘Lucy… Bolsen certainly did a number on her face. Shame, she was probably quite a looker before the torture.’
‘Doctor… are you fraternising with your patients?’
‘Hah.’
‘Well, we’ll have to promote Lieutenant Colonel Haart. And the men who helped him. They all deserve to be rewarded.’
‘And Bolsen?’
‘He will be executed.’
‘Your men have found him then?’
‘Yes, they have.’
‘When will you be attacking?’
‘In good time.’
‘Why the wait? Why not wipe him from the face of the planet now?’
‘Because I want Lucy here to lead the attack against him.’

The Red Company blah dee blah dee blah, and I think they got their act together and began marching toward the Tyrian port, or something. They marched all day without taking a break. After a while of marching, the council members calmed down, and and and and and yeah.

Claudette wrote:I've seen that quote before, Cass What a riot. And Jack, very good!

I have a few.

This is my MC rambling to the reader about the death of Mariana:

I fight with her and we leave each other in a fight!

I'm not sure what I was trying to say....

Sleep had been a fast runner, and reached me first.

what!? Sleep is a runner? I think I was trying to say that he was too busy falling asleep to think about anything that had just happen, but what a way to do it...I'm not sure if that was a "product of 4:00 in the morning writing" or not, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

His head rolled as if his neck was a pivot, and he leaned forward and nearly collapsed onto the table, if I wouldn’t have caught him and lowered him down more.

Crysi wrote:I think I can pinpoint the very spot where my writer's block hit and I lost interest in writing today. It would be the last paragraph I wrote:

The Red Company blah dee blah dee blah, and I think they got their act together and began marching toward the Tyrian port, or something. They marched all day without taking a break. After a while of marching, the council members calmed down, and and and and and yeah.

The secret cabinet hung open, one door torn partially off its hinges where Chatuluka had thrown it open. The cloth lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, reminding Chatuluka of himself at the moment.

He ran his hands over his bald head, and wondered vaguely how much hair he would have if he weren’t bound by the preistily custom.

Moonlight finally broke through the tick canopy and bathed a large, old house in soft light.

“You have three days and approximately forty - seven thousand, two - hundred and forty - nine words to find her in - - make that approximately forty - seven thousand, two - hundred and seven words. Use them wisely.”

Sickly yellow light the velvet was thrown over the open wardrobe.

Jennafina wrote:Crysi, I love your first one. That's so cool!

The secret cabinet hung open, one door torn partially off its hinges where Chatuluka had thrown it open. The cloth lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, reminding Chatuluka of himself at the moment.

He ran his hands over his bald head, and wondered vaguely how much hair he would have if he weren’t bound by the preistily custom.

No idea what I was thinking here. How are these related? Not even at all?

The boy sat upon a partially dry spot on a long-overturned log, simply breathing.

He began to hear a small rustling noise and a lump of leaves began to move in his direction. Ferdinand kicked at the object, and the leaves slid off to reveal a small bird missing a leg- and pushing at the ground with the remaining one.

His pupils dilated as A_O completely overtook his body, throwing him onto the ground and causing him to pick up a rock (which he then used to crush the bird).

Ferdinand stood on the rock with one foot and watched the bird die. Once it had gone, its eyes became metallic and hardened, and its feathers began to drift to the ground one-by-one.

In a corner of the gleaming metal box was a human hand- blackened, to be sure, but shriveled and slightly gleaming. It was perhaps mummified, and certainly petrified.

“I-I dare you to touch it,” blubbered Eleanor.

“What do I get for that?”

“Eternal honor and a million dollars.”