Young Writers Society

I’ve witnessed every storybook that was ever created on YWS and I’ve always wanted to give it a go!

The Plot

The Bank of YWS once had one million points but in the winter of 1848, at the start of the California Gold Rush, the points mysteriously vanished. Over the years there were rumours, traces even of where the points went, like that one time when @AlexSushiDog claimed that @Rydia had them. This was later proven to be a ruse when Rydia, one of the top fund managers at the YWS bank, admitted it was a different 1 million points used in an attempt to attract the attention of the real thief. We can only theorize that her recent advertisement 'Selling: YWS for 1 million points' was a similar ploy.

Where did the points go? What have they been spent on? Who was responsible for the original theft?

The brave journalists of YWS intend to answer these questions and more and have set out with their notepads and time machines to take a hands on approach to solving the mystery!

Of course, with time travelling being a thing now, it's quite possible that the thief in fact originated from our own timeline. Isn't that an exciting thought?

The points currently belong to me but this isn't the story of how they came to be in my possession or why I have them (so stop asking or face the wrath of my lawyer @snowmonkey9!). It is the story of how they were taken so very long ago...

The Characters

That's you! Maybe you're just interested in finding out what happened or want to make a million points of your own by selling the story. Or maybe you were involved in the original bank robbery. Oooh! Whatever your part in this was, tell us your side of the story and help us find out who took that money and where it went next. You can write your post at any point in time, whether it's just after the bank robbery or five years later, tracking down a lead on someone who suddenly got super rich. Remember, you have a time machine so you can jump around at will and you can use your special y-phones to interact with people in different timelines or pop over to share some notes.

The Rules

Be nice to each other! That's really my only rule. I don't know who stole the points and it's up to you to tell me and to find out what happened to them so go nuts! If you want, you can create a character profile, or you can just jump straight in and your posts can be diary entries or news articles or just normal storybook posts. They can be third or first person and if you'd rather create a character who's not your YWS persona then that's cool too!

The Start

Go for it! I'll be back at some point to make a post and I'm really excited to be writing with you!!

July 10th, 1863

How funny it is to write that date! It will take me some time before I am used to it yet, and used to this peculiar fountain pen!

Woodrow and I are to be married tomorrow. What a wonderful invention the time machine is! I've always dreamed of marrying a true cowboy. I shall miss YWS and WiFi, surely, but already I feel quite assimilated to this dusty old time of simplicity. Once again I am convinced that I was born in the wrong century.


August 27th, 1863

Today Woodrow was telling me what he remembered of the gold rush. He was only a youngin' then, but he recalled his father leaving their home in Tennessee to strike it rich. Like many, he didn't, but he did find the treasure of the West's rugged beauty, and ushered his family to follow.

While we were talking, Woody's eyes suddenly lit up. "Y'know your time travelin' thing?" he asked me.

"Sure," I said. "You're not fixing to use it, are you? You remember what I said."

He bit his lip. "I know. Time paradoxes. You're scared of 'em."

I nodded. "I took a one-way ticket here, Woodrow. I ain't going anywhere else."

He dropped the subject, but he's been awful thoughtful the rest of tonight. I'm worried.


November 21st, 1848

This is his birthday present.

I love him to death, but he can be awfully stubborn sometimes. He couldn't get the gold rush thing out of his head. So here we are, in the remote Northern California wilderness, camping out by a creek and trying to find a flash in the pan before everyone else. We haven't had any luck yet, but it's only the fourth day, and I'm giving him two weeks to leech the rivers of their riches. Winter's setting in soon, and I'd prefer to be back in Texas and avoid the snow, let alone paradoxes.

I don't like doing this much - something about it seems wrong - but I'll admit that it's awful nice here and we're having a splendid time. The forests and vistas are beautiful, and it's nice to see his serious self so flushed with excitement and anticipation.

This isn't so bad after all.


November 15th, 2017

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. I spoke too soon. Why didn't I listen to that feeling in my gut?

I would have written sooner, but I hadn't the chance. These desultory dates must be confusing to anyone reading this; it has been merely three weeks since my last entry. Woodrow is somewhere back in 1848, lost, hurt, dead, for all I know!

We were returning home through the portal after the two-week period, a modest pouch of shimmering rocks in our possession, when I heard gunshots behind me. The next thing I knew, I was back in 1863 and there was no husband at my side. My life has been a nightmare since! What happened to him? I'm afraid that I will never know. I have hope, but it's a big world, and a much bigger one now with the element of time travel.

I am here in 2017 in order to collect the proper medicine and bandages should he need them when I find him again. If he is hurt badly, I will take him back here; Old West doctors are awful.

God help me.