Young Writers discussion

No explanation needed, this is obviously the new writing contest.

Your prompt: Write to convey an emotion (as the emotion itself or 3rd person.. not narrated by a person is what I mean). But you have to relate the piece to the photo below, whether loosely or based on it entirely, your choice.

http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/...

Yep, so be creative or weird or not and enjoy ^^

Hmmmm... Time to start brainstorming... I shall write something to enter in this contest! (Hopefully)

That is the coolest photo. Where did you find it?

I've seen that on Pinterest before, though I don't know if that's where you got it.

Hey, do we put the entire thing on here, or just a link?

Sam~ on sleepless roads the sleepless go~ wrote: "That is the coolest photo. Where did you find it?"

Isn't it ^^ I was just Googling surreal photos and there was this whole bunch by these photographers, Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison. They've done some really cool work .

Gashbeen(Hecate) wrote: "Hey, do we put the entire thing on here, or just a link?"

Usually we post the entire piece here but if it's really long then a link is preferable. That being said, try not to make it novel-length :)

Okay!

That picture confuses me :/

I have an idea, I just need to get it down.

here's my story. It's called Overcome. I think the picture has to do with belief:

As the minutes tick by my anxiety grows. The other performers go on and off stage with no problem. Just thinking about all the people who will be watching me makes the knot in my stomach tighten. I see Lucy Smith walking towards me. She's the head of the student council. Lucy's also the stage manager because the whole talent show was her idea.

"Jasmine Baylor, you're up next!" she informs me all too perkily. There's a big smile on her face. I've always wanted to wipe that smile right off her face. Before I could say anything she rushed over to a group of boys messing with the curtain ropes. My stomach lurches into my throat. The sound of applause fills the air. A sixth grader and his magic assistant push through the curtain. Lucy reappears. "You'll have to wait a minute. We have to clear some props from the previous performance."

Relief flows through me. "T...take all the time you need." Lucy just smiles at me.

"It shouldn't take very long though," someone makes a motion to her,"They're done. Alright, the MC will call your name. Once she gets off you'll go on and perform. Got it?"

Suddenly, I feel dizzy but I nod anyway. Mrs.
Long, my old math teacher, is the MC. She says something that makes the audience laugh and I hear her call my name. Next thing I know Mrs. Long is backstage and wishing me luck. I freeze. My feet won't allow me to go onstage. Lucy senses something's wrong and rushes over just as the audience starts to murmur.

"What are you doing!?! You're ruining my show, AGAIN!" She screams at me but I just stand there. Because of my lack of response Lucy pushes me through the curtain. I fall on my knees. the crowd just laughs at me. Tears sting my eyes. I'm not sure if it's because I fell or everyone is laughing at me. But i blink them away, hopefully before anyone noticed them.

The music starts blaring and I rise to my feet
while pushing a red curl out of my face. That's when I see just how many people are staring back at me. I can also see that most of them are whispering. Probably about the tragedy of last year. I can hear Lucy telling me to sing. The churning of my stomach becomes violent and a sense of deja vu falls over me. The eyes are following me waiting for the line to escape my lips. Unfortunately the line escaped my memory instead. I can't allow that to happen again. The music speeds up and it's time to sing.

A deep breath instantly relaxes me and before I know it I'm singing. I'm doing it. in fact, I don't think I've ever sung so beautifully in my life. People gasp and applaud. A smile instantly spreads across my face. I begin to wonder what I was afraid of in the first place. But I quickly find-out that you should never think while performing. The terrified feeling comes back as I forget what part of the song I'm at. what am I supposed to say?

One glance backstage and Lucy's already freaking out. This doesn't help my nerves at all. But for some reason I look backstage again. this time I see Mrs. Long cheering me on. It was all I needed.

I dance my heart out I've never danced before and I don't know if I'm good or not. I don't think I am.

I don't think.

I just dance.

Finally, a part of the song I recognize. I finish
off stronger than I started. The last note escapes my lips and i beam. Despite the rocky beginning of my performance I actually got a standing ovation! Mrs. Long runs onstage before I'm even off. she congratulates me with a hug. Once I get off stage Lucy gives me a squeeze too.

There's only one more performance. A couple of seventh graders dancing. They're not bad. Probably ten times better than I was. The audience seems to enjoy it too so I clap even though I was busy calming down instead of watching. The dancers don't look very impressed with themselves and I'm surprised. But Mrs. Long praises them anyway. I wonder if she really thought I was good or if her and the audience were just giving me pity. Lucy pushes me onstage again and I see all the other performers are there too. Mrs. Long will be announcing the winner.

She's holding an envelope.

The moment of truth is here. Winning isn't why
I'm here but I am curious. Actually, I can't remember why I'm here. Leo probably convinced me. He really has a way. My thoughts are interrupted when a balloon bonks me on the head. The MC is shaking my hand. What's going on? Wait...

I won

How did I possibly beat Samantha Yales gymnastic routine?
The horrible memory of last year erases from my mind. And something else seems to have disappeared. Ever since the disaster a year ago an unsightly mark has bean stained on dead center stage. But, almost as it is symbolizing my overcoming of that night, it is gone.

The audience laughs at whatever Lucy just said. I run on stage. But my one line stayed behind. The crowd is on the edge of their seats. They're just starting to realize that, though dramatic, this isn't a dramatic pause. Adrenaline pumps through me and my head pounds. Lucy looks pretty intense. I'm dizzy. My stomach jumps and I can taste the disgusting slimy bile. I try to swallow it but fail. After that my memories are kind of fuzzy. My parents say I threw-up and then fainted, landing in the puddle. That's a night I'll always dread.

"Is there anything you'd like to say?" Mrs. Long hands me the microphone. Looking dumbfounded I gather my thoughts and speak.

"Yes, thank you. I want to use this opportunity to help the many people who suffer stage fright. A year ago I had a horrific incident on this very stage," I wait for everyone to stop whispering,"but I overcame it tonight. And...well...you can too." Mrs. Long takes the microphone back. People cheer and I bathe in the glory for a minute longer.

I realize that later in my life I won't be looking back at the traumatic night of the play. I will be remembering how amazing this performance felt and all the confidence it gave me.

Wow, that's longer than I thought it was

Am I the only one who's entered a story so far?

So far, yes because im confused as to how I'm not supposse to type as a person...

Here's my story. It's called Can't Run. I think it has to do with the feeling that you're trapped, that you can never run away from your emotions and fears, but that you have to face them.

Daniel Worthington looked out the car window as his father pulled up into the driveway of their new home. "Dad, why did we have to move?" Mr. Worthington replied, "I couldn't stay there, Daniel. I would have gone crazy if I did." Daniel nodded as he got out of the car and glared up at their new home. Even though I want to hate this, I'm actually glad that we moved. Daniel let his father unlock the front door and then he walked into his new house. He looked around, trying his best to look as though he hated this place, but inside he actually liked it. I can't let Dad know that I like this place. It would make him feel better, the coward.

But Daniel knew that he too was a coward. He had let his father take him here. Daniel and Mr. Worthington were full-fledged cowards. Daniel pushed that thought out of his head and stomped up the stairs to his room. It's certainly bigger than my former room. Yes, and it was better too. Daniel found himself liking this house, and when he looked into the mirror, he realized he was smiling. He turned that smile upside down into a frown. We won't be able to start fresh here. I just know it. Daniel sighed and walked over to his dad's room, where he found Mr. Worthington sitting on the queen-sized bed, shoulders shaking.

Is Dad…crying? No, his father wasn't supposed to cry! Daniel was supposed to hate his father for being a coward and his father was supposed to be a cold, heartless beast! Why, Dad? It's your fault Mom left. It's all your fault. Then, Mr. Worthington's cell phone rang, and he picked it up. "Hello?" After a pause, he jumped up. "Really? Oh, this is great news!" After another pause, "Yes, yes, of course. I won't tell him, no. I'll see you soon!" Mr. Worthington danced around like a little kid, cheering and whooping.

Daniel hated his father even more then. Probably his new girlfriend that he never told me about. How can he be so happy with Mom gone? How can he be so happy when Mom had left us? It's all HIS fault! Daniel stomped back to his room and slammed the door. He collapsed onto his bed, buried his face into his pillow, and began to cry great, heaving sobs. In the end, he cried himself to sleep.

When he woke up, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. His dad opened the door and said happily, "Come meet Gale, my new girlfriend! She'll be very happy to see you." Daniel nodded sleepily. When his dad left, it suddenly registered what his father had just said. "I WAS RIGHT! He slammed the door open and ran down the steps. He hurtled himself into the living room, where a young woman with curly brown hair and Mr. Worthington were chatting while unpacking boxes. They looked surprised when Daniel shouted, "HOW CAN YOU BE SO HAPPY WITH MOM GONE? IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT MOM LEFT! YOU'RE A REPULSIVE AND PATHETIC COWARD! NO WONDER MOM LEFT!"

Mr. Worthington tried to speak, but Daniel kept on going. "WELL, I HATE YOU TOO! I WISH I COUDL LEAVE YOU! IF I COULD, I'D HAVE DONE IT LONG AGO! YOU WORTHLESS COWARD!" And with that, Daniel dashed out the front door. "Daniel! Wait!" Daniel ignored his father and kept on running. Daniel didn't know where he was going. He just kept on running and running until he was too exhausted to run anymore. He collapsed on the sidewalk, panting.

Did I really mean what I said? Do I really, truly think that? Daniel began to sob. Big, fat tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried, "I'm so sorry, Dad. You must be hurting inside. That's why you were glad for Gale. You had someone else that you loved to fill that hole in your heart. I'm so sorry! I forgive you! I do!" Daniel sniffled, wiped the tears away, and got back up. Then he saw his dad standing across the street, eyes wide with joy. "Daniel!" His dad ran across the street and crushed Daniel in a hug. "Did you really mean that, Daniel?" Daniel replied, "Yes, Dad. I really did mean that." Daniel hugged his dad back.

As they walked back home, Daniel thought, If I hadn't confronted my hate for Dad and my fears that Dad wasn't hurting inside because Mom left, then would we ever have been as happy as we are now? I don't think so.

I think that this picture is symbolic of our fears and its ability to control us. My entry is called Fear.

The doctors all tell her that she’s just schizophrenic, that none of the voices are real. That she’s imagined them all.

But who are they to tell me I’m not real? My name is Fear and I am the most powerful being in the universe. I’m there, lurking in the back of your mind. I can turn the most insignificant sounds into monsters that go bump in the night.

You can’t get rid of me.

I follow you wherever you go. Cage me once and I return a hundredfold to torment you. Everything you see is twisted into another manifestation of me. I seep into your insecurities. Your nightmares are the result of careful choreography on my part. If I do say so myself, I’m a very talented director and writer. Though you may resent me for your sleepless nights, you have to give me credit for how thorough and realistic my productions are.

If I could go to Hollywood, I would probably be the most successful director of horror films in the history of humanity. But who needs fame and fortune?

I live in the minds of the most powerful men in the planet. Emperors, tyrants, politicians, kings, and presidents. No one is beyond my influence. You could say that I rule the world. If I try hard enough, I can string up my little world rulers. My strings wrap around their wrists and ankles and they dance to my beat.

I am a master puppeteer.

But though I am exceptionally talented at directing and controlling, I am but a simple man. The thrill of my life comes from acting. That is when I feel truly accomplished. I don’t think you understand just how hard it is to achieve. Only 0.44% of the adult population has paranoid schizophrenia. To create entire entities, to fabricate entire personalities in a person’s mind, it is an art. I have to sift through all of their hopes, dreams, and traumatic memories. It can be very exhausting and my chances of success are less than 1 out of 200.

Nevertheless, the thrill of success: it’s euphoric.

Maybe the reason why I like it so much is because it’s so difficult. I mean, when you’ve been controlling the world for centuries, world domination loses its spark. But the pleasure of inflicting insanity, that never gets old.

If you start hearing voices in your head, you should be flattered. If means that you’re special and I’ve deigned to devote my time and energy into your anguish. How many other rulers of the world would even give you the light of day?

Consider yourself lucky for the privilege of my presence.

Anastacia *Rebooted* wrote: "So far, yes because im confused as to how I'm not supposse to type as a person..."

What I mean is to write in the POV of an emotion. Or if not that, then its ok to write it in third person, to show/convey an emotion.

And it has to do with the picture :)

Does that make sense..

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH


I feel extremely stupid right now XD

expect something within the next couple days if not today XD

No worries ^.^

Bloodlust: A Love Poem


Fear spread through the hunters’ ranks as blood dripped down.
Blacksblade lit and hellflames roared as wounded fell.
Little could lift Fredrick’s perpetual frown,
but he carved a grin from hunters’ blood-filled hell.

Knives darted, swords fell, throats were ripped from necks.
Six feet of burning death fell into their path,
the poor hunters who fell to Fredrick next.
Fredrick Black grinned from ear to ear and laughed.

How simple, how beautiful, these lovely kills.
The perfect blood that fell and spilled to the ground
as Blacksblade slaughtered those with weaker wills.
When no single living enemy was found,

Fredrick’s scowl returned to hide his delight.
He lived for death and blood in this deadly fight.

Two days left y'all.

I know and I don't know what to write! I know the emotion...I just don't know what to write...

I get revenge from it ^^


"They've got my sister," Katrina said sternly, "I'm going after them and no one is stopping me!" She quickly turned around and ran before anyone could stop the teen princess. She quickly ran to towards the stables and hopped onto her horse Zeb. They quickly galloped in the direction the invaders had gone.
After a while she came to a halt. She could the talking of several men. Katrina guessed it was the invaders. She slid off Zeb and crouched close to the ground. Her orange tunic riding top caught on her knees. She released it so she could move easier. Her black riding pants were made so she could move easily, which she was glad more as she moved along the bushes and trees. Soon she came to the edge. She stayed hidden in the bushes.
There stood several tents with a small fire in the center. There were grown men dressed in dark browns and greys. These were definitely the invaders. Now where was her sister. She gasped softly as a man walked a couple yards away. "Sir, we've got the brat tied up in the North tent," he said.
A hidden man laughed. "You're afraid of a princess? A child one at that!"
"You haven't felt her bites Sir," the man said.
Katrina smirked. Yep, that was Cathleen.
"Whatever, good. Make sure there are guards," the hidden man said.
Katrina sighed. She was on the completely opposite side that her sister. She crawled through the bushes as quietly as she could. Suddenly she hit her head on something. "Ouch," she whispered. She looked up to come face to face with one of the invaders. Katrina blushed and waved. "Hello," she said with a nervous laugh. She was grabbed by the upper arm and picked up.
The man walked out into the clearing with her in his arms. "I've got a certain princess looking for her sister," he grumbled.
Katrina looked at him. "You bet I am!" She turned her head towards the man the guy was taking her too. There on a dark brown horse was a man with long black hair. He smirked at her. "Well, if it isn't the other princess. How unfortunate for you to get caught while trying to rescue your sister," he said.
Katrina laughed. "It was all part of the plan," she lied, "What better way to rescue someone than getting caught so you have to do less work to get to them!"
The man laughed. "You amuse me. Maybe you can live," he said.
Katrina bit the guy who was holding her's hand, making him drop her. She didn't plan on running and the man on the horse knew it. "Oh, that's a relief!" She said.
The man sighed. "Take her to the tent on the south side," he shouted.
Katrina gasped. "HEY! EXCUSE YOU! I thought we were having a pretty decent conversation," she said, "You can't say when a conversation is over when you are talking to royalty. Only the royal one can, and I'm the royal one!"
The man looked at her. "Fine, what do you want to talk to me about?"
Katrina smirked. "Nothing, you can take me to the south tent now."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Funny..." he said flatly.
Katrina looked back at him as she was being led off. "I was trying! Thank you!"
When she was thrown into the south tent she started trying to figure out what to do. Sure she was tied up to the center pole with her wrists tied, but she could at least walk around. She saw a set of furs and hides, probably whomever's tent this was earlier. Unless they set up this tent because they she was coming. Katrina sighed. What had Cathleen said. Nevermind that, she had to figure something out and quick. Her eyes widened as she remembered the knife in her front pocket on her pants. She walked back so her back what up against the pole. She fumbled around until the knife was in her hands. She sliced the rope where it started wrapping around her hands. She dropped the knife and then wriggled her hands around until the rope fell off. She knelt down and picked up the knife and put it back in her pocket. She looked towards the door. "Stupid guards," she whispered to herself. She looked around at the hides and thought of a good distraction. Her eyes widened at the idea of a fire. Not only would it distract them while she went to get her sister, it could destroy the entire camp, if not some of the tents and possessions. She fumbled through her pockets, taking the knife back out, a thing of string covered fuz. In her other pocket she had her small metal bird charm and a match. She looked at the bird charm. "You have no clue how lucky you are..." she muttered. She striked the match on the wooden pole and then gently set the tip on the fur and then walked back over to the pole she picked up the rope and gripped it behind her back. "HELP! THERE'S A FIRE!" She cried out.
Three guards ran in. They froze when they caught sight of the fire. The man from the horse rushed in. He looked at her. "What sorcery is this!?" He asked as he motioned to the furs.
Katrina looked at him. "Please, just let me free!"
He looked at her. "How did this start! There is nothing there that could cause the fire!"
Katrina looked at him. "I don't know! Let me free so I don't burn!"
He stepped towards her. "I heard there was great power in that kingdom! I thought it was your younger sister, but in reality it is you!"
Katrina smirked wickedly. "In that case you'd be correct," she said. She set the match close to the rope and then dropped both the match and the rope. She held up her hands. "For I've got the power of fire!" She glanced at the fire on the furs and then at the guards. The guards took off running.
The man looked at her worriedly.
Katrina took off running towards the north tent. She dodged multiple guards. "CATHLEEN!" She cried out.
There was a yell in the tent right ahead of Katrina. "KATRINA?!"
Katrina dashed into the tent to see the brown hair and dazzling green eyes of her sister. The young girl who could bend light but couldn't figure out how to control it yet looked at her older sister. "Katrina!"
Katrina knelt next to the young girl and untied the rope. "Zeb's just within whistling range. I'll call him, but we better hurry thing camp's up in flames!"
Cathleen smirked. "You tricked them didn't you!"
Katrina helped her sister stand up. "What else was I suppose to do? Sneak around like a spy? Where's the fun in that?" She dragged her sister out of the tent and whistled loudly.
The red horse leapt out of the bushes in with great speed.
Kartina quickly got her sister up onto Zeb and then she jumped up onto the horse. "Let's go!" The two girls rode away from the fire at quick speed.

(Hopefully it hasn't ended yet) I'm basing mine off of the picture, and titling it The Man Who Would Fly (excuse the grammar if be any):

There once was a man. A man who lived on top of a hill. Whose wife had died and whose children was grown. And he lived on top of Hill 22 with one cat, and nineteen ravens. No one visited the nan save it be one little boy who would watch the old man come out of his small house, with his old cane, cap, and birds. He would set down the cage and nimbly tie eighteen strings, nine around each wrist, and then he would let the eighteen birds go. They would try to fly away, but the old man wouldn't let them. He would plant his feet and smile brightly. One day the little boy came out of his hiding place and asked the man "Why don't you set the birds free?" the man's warm eyes would look down at the boy and would give an obvious answer,
"Because then they would fly away!"
The boy still not satisfied asked another question, "When will you let them go then?"
"When they're strong enough to lift me up to the heavens of course!" laughed the man.
The boy looked down at the golden cage to see one more bird, a raven to be exact, pacing and cawing. "What about that bird? Why doesn't he fly with the rest?"
"Because he's too strong for strings." The man grunted.
The raven cawed again.
"Then why won't you set him free?"
"Because when I can fly he'll have to keep be company! Won't have use for the others when their purpose is through now won't I? I'll be too old to fly."' Answered the man politely.
From hence came a voice from the bottom of the hill calling the boy's name repeatedly. The boy's face turned by instinct, "That's me mum," he informed the old man, "I have to go now sir." The old man watched as the boy went back down the hill. Years past and the boy grew to become a wealthy man with a wife. Now he walked up that hill in hopes of seeing the old man. Yet, there was no old man. Neither birds, nor cat. The only thing different was an unmarked tombstone, and on top of that unmarked tombstone was a raven. The same raven who had once long ago, been in a painted gold cage.
"So he really did fly then?" Asked the man.
The raven tilted it's head and cawed two times. The man, having an idea, got out a chiseling knife, and then began carving the tombstone. On it written, "THE MAN WHO WOULD FLY" . When his work was done he went back to his wife, and the tamed raven gave one last look at the tombstone before it flew away.

Emmeline, that was amazing. I love your writing style.

Thank you! Unfortunately the auto-correct on my phone made me misspell a couple of times. Haha!

Who won???

Oh sorry. I'm drowning in assignments..

Also, sorry for the not-so-clear prompt..

Cool stories though! Great job, I enjoyed reading them.

But the final winner is,

Angie

Congratulations, your piece was awesome! I love the idea, and you described fear so well.

Thank you so much Halli! That means a lot. But because it is just about to get into crazy AP test season and I'm going out of town next week, I'd like to pass on the judging. So someone else can offer or Halli can choose a second place.

I always offer.

Sure, go ahead.

Cool. Is Subservient the only volunteer?

So far...

Then that makes you the next judge.