Young Writers Society

"I hate it when I get no ideas, it’s so frustrating. Maybe being a writer isn’t for me, and what if I did write a novel I would be to chicken to publish it anyway. I’m such a failure."

Sam a talented young boy with low self-esteem, he has been that way since he was six years old. No one actually knows what happened but Sam disappeared for one day. The cops didn’t look into the matter, because to them a day isn’t long enough. His mother on the other hand knew that something had happened it wasn’t like her sugarplum to run off like that. Still no one knows what had occurred that day so many years ago, not even Sam himself.

After that he became more and more scared, mostly because of the fact that he himself didn’t remember anything, except feeling very confused and a little scared. Having been terrified for so long of course he thought of himself as a cowardly failure.

"Ahh, better just go for a walk",Sam thought. Walks always cheered him up, especially at this hour when the stars were out and people were in. He put on the shoes he kept in his room both for emergencies and to sneak out when he wanted to. Still feeling a little depressed he opened his window and squeezed himself through it.

"Yeah that’s the stuff", he said to himself in a low whisper and breathed in e clean night air. Finding himself smile a bit as he walked along the dark abandoned road. He walked for a long time breathing in the air and letting his imagination play loose in his head, when suddenly he heard a loud rustle coming from a bush on the other side of the road. Instantly his thoughts trailed to that day when he was six and fear began to pour over his body like ice water. He stood there unable to move watching the bush like it was a man-eating dog ready to strike. "It’s just a cat", he whispered to himself, but with much uncertainty in his voice.

He started walking back the way he came never taking his eyes away from the bush. Soon he was far enough away from the bush to stop gawking at it. He walked as fast as he could to get home to his room where he was safe. "Why so scared Sam?"Asked a cold shrilly voice. Sam stopped in his tracks, he recognized the voice but from where? He looked around to try and find the source of the voice, now even more afraid than before. Nothing, he saw no one the street was as empty as before. "Who are you?" He asked but hoped for there to be no answer, he was let down as the voice spoke again. "Don’t remember me? Well don’t blame ya , you were only six after all", the cold voice chuckled. "Could it be, could he know what happened to him all those years ago?" Sam’s train of thoughts were interrupted. "How old are you now anyway?" Asked the voice and a man stepped out of a shadow almost right in front of Sam, the man had pearl white hair, pale skin and pitch black eyes and suit. The sight of him was merely ghostlike."Fiifteen", stammered Sam. "Aww, you aren’t scared of me are ya Sam? After all we are friends, but of course you don’t remember me now do ya". The man started laughing again."Who are you?"Sam was losing his patience. "We are your worst memory". This didn’t come from the ghostlike man, this voice was dark and it came from behind him. He felt the terror crawling on him as he looked at a tone dark face right behind him, and the next thing he knew everything turned black.