Young Writers Society

Hi everyone, it's nice to meet all of you. I'm Jezebel, I just turned fourteen in July. And more recently... my parents died. It's very sad for me and my community. But there was a bright side to this situation, I could get out of my engagement with my fiancee, Ezekiel. He is also very happy about getting out of the engagement too. But his parents said that we will get married no matter what. But I do hope that someday... I can choose who I want to marry and get out of my engagement with Ezekiel. But the really shocking part is that... I'm now going to be living with an aunt I never met in a city that's completely foreign to me. Maybe this is my chance to find someone that I will love forever. Who knows?

Hi, my name is Mary. I am 15 and lives with my family at Aperture. I have blue hair and blue eyes. I am also a robot, by the way, in a human body. I am a princess of Wheatley Laboratory as my brother is the prince. He is a evil, but I am nice robot. I love humans like you guys. I studied humans when I was 12. I will help you guys escape from being my dad's test subjects. I always give you directions and help you with bad guys. I love being your friend and sidekick. I will never betray you like my father...or you want me to.

Greetings, fellows! My name is Maple, Maple Woods. Pleasure.
God, everyone here seems so messed up. I mean, I get you wanting to go on a murder spree, but all those dragon lord people really scared me.
Ha.
Even I didn't buy that.
I'm alone. Sort of. I'm a military slash rebel leader (Military of rebels? I don't even know.) in the 'glorious land of A.C.R.E'.
I wasn't born here. I'm from a small town in the north, where I grew up. I was a cool kid; I was smart, a bit cocky, I tended to help through tough stuff, etcetera.
Then I met Dan, the greatest guy in the northern united states, who helped me organize a camping trip with a few kids to some underexplored wilderness.
Then I died. Ok, kidding, I didn't die. I mean I did die in their perspective. From myy view point, I mearly switched worlds.
So here I am, ten years later: rugged, siginficatively taller, with a large scar across my right eye, and tired of waiting for lil' ol' Danny to find me.
I'm officially an independent twenty-four year old woman living my own life. With the ocasional task of maybe murdering agressive wolf-soldiers and such.

Boone Larazo, from a not-yet started storybook called "When Drugs Take Over"

The names Boone.

Are you just going to stare at my hand or are you gonna shake it?

Good choice.

I grew up in Boston, you don't need to know where. My pop owned a boat shop where I lived as a kid. Now watch yourself, don't go thinking my dad didn't provide. He did. I just liked being around the boats better. And now I can drive anything with a motor.

Wipe that smirk off your damn face.

My mom got herself involved in some shit you don't need to know about. Left when I was fifteen, then split with my dad, and then got hauled off by the coppers. I'm following right in her footsteps. It's kind of a family business.

You think I don't notice you eyeballing my scar?

Keep your eyes to yourself. I got in a fight with some Italian from Province, and let me put it to ya straight-
only one of us is still waking around today.

Make sense bud?

Boone, I would prefer if you talked to us in a less harsh manner, if you please.
I would greatly appreciate it. My name is Cynthia, and I'm from the novel Network of Keys. Though I am quite close to immortality, I have almost died quite a few times. My world might be ending. I am traveling through the most holy of places: the Tower. The Keys, which are the gods and goddesses of my world, are in there. My only company is my pet ponmik, Ky. He is quite cute, but he gets into a lot of trouble. Anyways, this place is more dangerous than any of you could imagine. Luckily not many can enter. I recently lost my parents to an awful accident involving the world ending. I would rather not discuss the incident. I live with my grandfather now. He is very sweet and a wise man. I don't like fighting much, but I have to do a lot more of my fair share of it here. It disturbs me whenever I must kill something. Back home on Sunnyside killing wasn't something people did. I happen to have fire powers, but using them makes me exhausted. So Boone, I wouldn't want a fight with you, even if I could easily win. I'm on my fourth year of being thirteen. I have long blonde hair and red eyes. I wear this nice black and red uniform the mayor of my town gave me for my special mission. It is nice meeting you all, and I hope you all tell me about yourselves.

*Stares at with cat-like eyes in slits* No one's ever asked me to introduce myself before, here goes.

I'm a puff of black feathers,
each plucked from a raven by an eagle.
I'm a pair of bat's wings,
grown from a smigion of DNA.
I'm your worst nightmare,
yet I have never killed.
I am switch-blade teeth,
harvested from the fossil of a saber-tooth cat.
I am long silky mouse-brown hair,
I am concealed in garishly bright dresses.
I hide knifes and weapons of the century in my bodice.
And now that you know who I am,
I have no choice,
but to pull the pin of this grenade,
and throw it at your feet.
Oh and yes, I am really a girl.

Lucy Alcantar

Lucy pulled out her gun and shot the grenade in the overly poetic girl's hand which gave a satisfying explosion and an end to a woman who should have just her name. She walked over where only a blown up corpse of the girl remained, grabbing the now deserted chair dragging it back to her seat. Sitting down she props her feet up on the chair and folds her arms with her gun still visible.

"My name is Lucy I'm a gal who's life is better not known unlike Ms. Overly dramatic over there who decided to tell an entire room who she was. Goes to show being a criminal is in the genes and mind and not just the mind." Lucy said with a clear smile on her face.

Metal fell from her body as she started to heal, scales faded in and out of existence on the surface of her figure, eagles swarmed around her and replenished the raven-feathers of her garment. Her green cats-eyes glowed amber as she spoke with the voice of many people:

"We are Isdand, and we just want our wings"

I am Helen. Helen Martin. I was born in the year 1898. When the Titanic sailed, I was fourteen years old. I traveled on the Titanic with my brother, Charles, and my parents. We were sailing back to America after living in France for four years. I sailed alongside my family and soon to be best friend, Anna. I am a survivor.
When the ship was sailing, Anna and I were busy. One night, Anna told me something. She said " Tell me about yourself." I said the same thing back. Truthfully, I had no idea who I really was. All my life I had been told who I was and what I must do. But on that voyage, I became my own person. I was finding out who I was.
And on that lifeboat, rocking in the waters, watching the ship sink. I knew. I am Helen. I am a survivor. Read my story, The Unsinkable Disaster.

Hi, I'm Marc, I'm 16 and I was born in the year 1998. You all seem very cool but I am not cool. I'm a bit weird but not in a good weird way. I'm shy but not in that "Aww hes so cute when he's shy" way. My writs are cut not because I search for attention, but because I deserve it.

Hello. My name is Jackie Sharp. I am the Joker's daughter and I am from Jackie's Smile. I am a killer like my father and to this very day we continue to terrorize people in gotham.

Hi Its Jackie sharp again. For a spoiler about me go into the Park and see what I am up to . . .

@Avalon

Don't I recognise you, Lucy? Oh yes, Queen Overly Dramatic! Just saying, that's what the whole explosion vibe does.
By the way, everyone, I'm Mercy: alter ego/counterpart to Layla Watts. Nice to meet ya!
I dislike the term imaginary friend. It's so juvenile... Get real! (pun intended)
As you can see, I kinda don't play well with others. What do you expect after 9 years in a mental institution?

Hi everybody. My name is Ekel from the book The Widow's Curse. I'm 900 years old but I look about 17. I have silver hair, clear eyes and stand about six feet tall. I do most of the chores around the house and getting into my mother's victim's heads. I am fluent in thirty seven languages because my mother made me so. My "mother"- as I've been calling her -is a witch, named Sterben. Her name is German and means "Death". Over the years Sterben has been luring unwanted and uncared for children into her lair, always disguised as a white house with black shutters on a street called Hamilton St.
I've always helped willingly with my job, never knowing what was really happening in that basement. I would strap down the victim, blocking out their pleading cries, and went back upstairs to pack my things. We never stayed in one place for very long.
I would always help willingly. Until I met Christopher. He always moved from one place to another, never staying in one place for very long. His parents were writers and barely paid any attention to him. He was just like me. He was a good kid and I didn't want to send him to the witch. I wanted to be his friend.
But I sent him anyway, against my will. and I-

Name's Sodayadaga. My friends call me 'Soda' for short. I have deep black skin and silver hair, chestnut almond eyes and a round face. I stand about five foot eight and I wear casual eastern clothes based off the style of Old Earth. I come from a small family and a smaller town. The town's called Krickterria and is centered somewhere in New Afrikka. The year is 140 ANE (After New Earth) and there is currently ninety six hours in a day. Forty eight hours of daylight, forty eight hours of night. You see, There is only seven minutes in an hour, and seven seconds to a minute. This leaves lots of daylight. Not much, really, it only lasts the same as the original twenty four hours from Old Earth, but is counted by seven. Seven seconds, seven minutes, ninety six hours. If you want to reach me my cell is on 96/7 (still 7 days in a week) or, if this journal reaches the past, write me a message and keep it safe for the trip to Fresh Earth. (New Earth was before this, Old Earth before that.)

Book: Seven Seconds