Young Writers Online

Sword Bearers

Amadeus — Sat, 25 May 2013 19:28:29 GMT

So this is the prologue to a fantasy story I came up with a while ago. There's not a whole lot to it, but I do have a fairly good plan for the rest of the book that I've been trying to write.

A lone traveler trudged down the path. A heavy pack was slung across his shoulders. Regardless of his burden, or the deep snow, he plowed on steadily to his destination.
It was not long before he stopped. He stood in front of a small stone tower, a guard outpost to inspect travelers before they continued to the city. Two very cold looking soldiers stood on duty by the door, shivering as they wrapped themselves up in their cloaks. Upon seeing the traveler, they rushed forward as quickly as their half numbed legs would allow them. They held their spears up, not threatening, but ready to use them if need be.
One of them spoke.
�Halt, in the name of His Majesty King Morterrus, and Lord Dramacus, ruler of Teralith.
The traveler stopped when he was in front of them. This time, the second soldier spoke.
�By order of His Lordship, you must be searched before reaching the city.�
The man flipped back the hood of his cloak, shaking snow off his face as he did. His short brown hair was flecked with gray, as was the thin stubble across his chin. His piercing green eyes made the soldiers shiver even more. Then he said one word.
�No.�
His strong, calm voice cut through the winter air like a knife, again making the soldiers shiver violently. �Then turn back or be arrested,� the first soldier replied. �It is the law that all must be searched before entering the city.�
The traveler tilted his head sideways, as if considering the soldier�s words. Then he attacked. Stepping forward with lightning speed, he grabbed the soldier�s spear and twisted it out of his grasp. Spinning around, he brought the sturdy wood of the spear crashing into the side of the soldier�s head. He fell sideways to the ground. The man raised the spear in both hands, then snapped it over his knee, dropping the halves to the ground. He spoke again.
�I have no intention of turning back, or being arrested.� His tone was commanding, yet still calm and controlled.
Terrified, the other soldier took a pace backwards. Stumbling over his feet, he rang the alarm bell that was anchored to the tower wall.
It was but a moment before another ten soldiers rushed out. They quickly surrounded the traveler. One of them, recognizable as the commander by the emblem on his shoulder, stepped forward.
�You raised the alarm for a stubborn old man?� he said to the soldier by the bell.
�He refused to be searched or turn back,� the soldier replied. �And then he attacked William here.� He gestured at the first soldier, who was lying on the ground, completely unconscious.
The commander glanced at him, then gave a quick hand signal to his men. They all leveled their spears at the traveler�s chest. �Heed my words carefully, stranger,� he said. �I could let you go easy. But you�re either going to be searched, or executed for harming one of the King�s men. I suggest you open up that pack.�
The traveler�s eyes flashed menacingly. The commander was surprised. Normally, travelers were easily intimidated. But this man met his gaze with defiance in his eyes. Certainly unusual, and not the attitude that should be left burning with such fire. (I don�t care for this paragraph very much, so feel free to completely change it in your critiquing)
The commander reacted swiftly. He knew that anyone who was so openly hostile to the King�s soldiers would be worth the trouble of arresting. He lashed out with his spear haft, catching the man a heavy blow to his head. Lunging forward, he then grabbed the man tightly by his shoulder and pressed his spear point to his throat.
�Get your pack on the ground. Now.�
Surprisingly, the man did as he was bid. Shrugging the straps off of his shoulders, he tossed his pack at the commander�s feet. Suddenly, he kicked the soldier in the stomach, breaking free of his grip. Like lightning, a shining blade swung through the air, slicing the commander�s spear in half. The traveler took a pace backward and crouched in a defensive stance, holding the sword that had cut through the spear like butter.
The commander cursed himself to all oblivion for failing to notice the sheath across the man�s back.
A swordsman! Here, on his way to one of the most populated cities of the kingdom. Now the man would not only be executed, he would be tortured and questioned until either death or insanity. Why such a harsh punishment?
It had something to do with swords being forbidden for the past century.
Of course, said punishment could only be carried out if said swordsman was captured. The commander drew a long knife from his belt. Stepping forward, he feinted, pretending to jab at the man�s ribs while bringing his left leg out to sweep the swordsman�s feet out from under him. With eye blurring speed, the man struck the knife with his sword, sending it flying off to the side. He then brought his blade down in a low arc towards the commander�s leg.
The soldier fell to the ground screaming, half of his left leg lying several feet away. The surrounding snow was soon dyed crimson with blood as he thrashed about in pain.
One of the other soldiers rushed him, intending to skewer the man on his spear. However, it was a reckless move. With apparent ease, the swordsman sidestepped and stabbed him through the middle as he came by. As he pulled his sword free, the man�s intuition caused him to spin around, swinging his blade at about head height. The soldier who had been sneaking up on him fell dead, his throat dripping blood.
The remaining seven soldiers were more cautious now, standing several feet back. They kept the man in range of their spears, but stayed away from his sword. Sensing that this might take too long, the swordsman went on the offensive. Pushing himself forward, he charged headlong at a soldier, blocking his spear and shoving him to the ground. One of the other soldiers thrust his spear at him, but the swordsman grabbed it and, using the soldier�s momentum, carried the weapon down into his comrade on the ground. As the other soldier fell, he swung his blade, slicing through the man�s chest.
He made short work of the last five, using his sword faster than the eye could see, easily evading the soldier�s feeble attempts to catch him. Eventually, there was only a pile of broken spears and corpses. Then he remembered that there was still one left.
The once confident commander was dying. He could tell that he was about to pass out from loss of blood. Clutching at what was left of his leg, he had watched, helpless, as this strange warrior slaughtered his men. Now he was striding towards him, holding out his sword.
The sword. Now was the first time the commander had actually gotten a good look at it. Even though he had not seen many swords his lifetime, he could tell that this one was different. It hardly had any crossbar at all, instead having a strange carving that jutted out on each side, providing some protection to his swordsman�s hands. Below that was a large handle, a little bit more than a foot long, with a green pommel stone. The blade was bright and shining, also longer than average, at about three and a half to four feet. Embedded in it were thin strands of gold, winding around to the top. The commander was confused. Swords were simple weapons, when they had been in use. Why was this one so�magnificent? Then it came to him. Even delirious from pain and blood loss, the answer hit him in an instant.
This was one of the swords of legend. Meaning this man was a�
Then, he could no longer focus on the sword, as its tip was resting on his throat.
A single, barely audible word escaped his mouth. �Mercy,� he said in a hoarse whisper. The sword dug deeper into his neck. The last words he ever heard were spoken by the swordsman.
�I give mercy by not making you live through the times to come. �
He shoved his sword downward.
Stepping back, he knelt down and wiped his bloodied sword on the snow. As he did so, he continued speaking, with none to hear him but corpses and the empty air of the forest.
�The times ahead will be harsh, to all those who serve the king. For the reign of the Sorcerers shall soon come to an end, with the Swordsmen back in their rightful place as rulers.� Then he stood and sheathed his blade across his back. Picking up the pack that he had dropped, he once again trudged onward to his destination, thinking of things yet to come.

I typed this up in a Word document beforehand, so the formatting might be a little weird.

Hello!

Amadeus — Sat, 25 May 2013 18:11:49 GMT

Hello! As you can probably tell, I'm new here. I'm Amadeus, (clearly not my real name but I think it's awesome) and I love to write. Epic fantasy is mostly my thing, but I also come up with the occasional sci-fi story. I think of new stories and ideas all the time. I don't really have much else to say about myself, other than the fact that I'm terribly sarcastic/witty (which, I've noticed, seems to be a common attribute in writers) and I will shred you to pieces if you get in an argument with me :devil: I have trouble writing straight through a story, so most of what I post will be bits and pieces of bigger stories and ideas. I consider myself to be a fairly good writer (I don't want to sound arrogant, sorry) but I desperately want some reviews on my work. Not just critiquing the technical bits of my writing, but also the story itself. So if you could read some of my stuff and give me feedback, that'd be great. As I said, I'm new, so I don't have much of my stuff on here yet, but I've got plenty of things I've written in the past that I'll post sometime soon. I also enjoy critiquing if I'm in the right mood, so feel free to ask me to review things. Thanks, and feel free to ask me questions!

Help?

Maroon-Back 313 — Sat, 25 May 2013 17:12:30 GMT

Hey everyone. I've got two novels underway and have posted consistently on both ends, except I'm simply not receiving critiques lately. One post has been up for two months and the other one has been up a month and I haven't received a response. Would anyone care to critique one of them? I'm really waiting on a critique for the Descendant rather than YLSP, but either one is welcome.

We are...

songwriter15 — Fri, 24 May 2013 22:47:59 GMT

So this is a song that I just started writing on my way home from school on the last day of school, hope you guys like it. Critiques are welcomed.
Songwriter 15

We walk into the sun,
Make a mark on our world,
Look out at everyone,
And see...

Two eyes, Two hands, Two feet,
But they're not dancin,
They're not singing,
They're not free.

But we are free to dance,
We are free to sing,
We are free to be one of the one true king,
Yeah we are free,
We are free,
yeah...

We take a step down this road,
Not knowing were we are going,
So we look out at everyone ,
And see...

Two eyes, Two hands, Two feet,
But they're not dancin,
They're not singing,
They're not free.

But we are free to dance,
We are free to sing,
We are free to be one of the one true king,
Yeah we are free,
We are free,
yeah...

We are free to dance,
We are free to sing,
We are free to be one of the one true king,
Yeah we are free,
We are free,
We are free to dance,
We are free to sing,
We are free to be one of the one true king,
Yeah we are free.

Yeah we are free!

too old for diaries

A23N — Fri, 24 May 2013 17:26:33 GMT

I've been fascinated by the idea of journal writing. The room is a little smaller when I search it with restless eyes. Spread out palm trees on bedsheets, toes touching technology chords, blaring the grateful dead in a place more silent than hell. Gods laid back against the wall peek around. For some reason I find them alienated, like that boy who you always thought was on drugs, or that blazing hot chick who was too pretty for you to talk to, put on a pedestal and judged till they become portraits laid against sour cream walls.

There's a stinging pain in the toe of my right leg. I stare at it. A seemingly harmless feeling. Has pain ever hurt someone? Has death ever killed someone? Where are the cause and effects? Man stitching together patterns on windstrokes leaves the ends loose. We're all routine.

We like routine. We like simple beats and we like marching to them. We like staying up till 1 to write poetry and then sleep because we need rest. We like resting because it's easy. I'm becoming like them. Am I ever entertained? Or am I so bored I do not realize this staleness creeping in like rusty rain in my blood vessels.

It is extremely hot right now. I sweat all the time. I kind of like the sweat. Moisture particles forming on the underside of my calf extending into heart and soul and brain all drained in teardrops and bitten nail residue. I'm constantly shifting into an obtuse angle. It's the rest again. It's contagious.

Boredom is contagious. So is poetry.
So are seasons.
Summers are risky intervals of rest.

I have facebook on another tab. She captions all her photos with memories. Nothing is as effective as wiping out memories than writing them down. She has the same smile in all her photos. All of them are from the same angle. I've told her she looks good in her photos. She knows. She knew. She doesn't dare. It's that rest again. We like it. She likes it. I want to fuck adventure into her thighs and absorb some boredom. I want to help her.

There's nothing quite like getting things out of your system. It's that first 'hello' and the follow-up that matters. It's getting that heavy load of having seen someone before and not being able to tell them that pushes you down. It's that feeling of listening to some music and trying to remember where you've heard that before, or what it's called. It's that fear of not knowing, and not showing, that puts us to rest.

Rest is a lot like a summer wave that flashes across the crying trees and merges into the concrete floors and glass walls of Delhi. Rest is not calm. Rest is an adventure. It's an effort in maintaining things like they are, and things are good.

Tips For Self-Publishing

Bookmarks_Festival — Fri, 24 May 2013 16:00:23 GMT

This summer as part of Bookmarks Festival we'll be self publishing a charity anthology of short fiction, as part of our Short Story Competition.

I was just wondering if any of you guys had experience in self-publishing and what tips you might offer? :)

Hello!

Bookmarks_Festival — Fri, 24 May 2013 15:50:33 GMT

Hello my name is Peter, I'm a CW undergrad and run a free literary festival in Northamptonshire called Bookmarks. I look forward to using the Young Writers forum. :D

New member here!

vetyes — Fri, 24 May 2013 10:32:39 GMT

Hello everyone;
I m yusuf 35 yo. I m Moroccan veterinarian who literature is in my blood. I like pets, read romance and history novels. I speak arabic, frensh, english and spanish. My english level is upper intermediate but i hope improve my skills here and share with you what is the most inspiring me in this beautiful life.
Hope i l enjoy your sharing too.
Keep smiling :D

Time Travel.

its_me_izzy — Thu, 23 May 2013 12:18:51 GMT

I have this bed. Its so smelly, rotten and old. But I still don't throw it away. Why? Because everytime I sit on it, I travel to novels- Harry Potter, Dork Diaries, Diary of A Wimpy Kid and more. No one knew about my bed except my bestie, Alexandra. I didn't tell her. But one time, I invited her to a sleepover. She was so excited then. "Alyssa, what...." then she and the bed were lost. She arrived about 1 hour after. I was relieved. I thought she was lost in my heart forever. "Lets go together." suggested Alexandra. "Ok." I replied smiling. We sat on it and then POOF! "What novel are we right now?" I asked Alexandra. She must've known. She almost read 300 novels in her life. "Harry Potter #3." "Cool! I want to see Harry Potter.!" I whispered. Then, we landed. I saw him. Harry Potter was so handsome. "Hey, I'm Alyssa." I smiled. "Hi, nice to meet you." he shook my hand right then. So dreamily. <3 But then me and Alexandra were dropped to another world. "Sheesh! I was having a good time with Harry!" I complained. Alex laughed. "Dork Diaries! I gotta see that mackenzie." I told Alex. She gave me a thumbs up. Wow! She indeed look pretty! But sort-of... over-glammed. "Hey Mackenzie!" I said, being kind. "Shut up Swirly Bits." she said and then she walked away. Wow! She's indeed cruel! And Im not an Ice Cream. After, we landed to my room. Just 2 novels? Oh great! But I enjoyed my time. Ever. Again. :D

Fluid thoughts ...

Pooja — Thu, 23 May 2013 11:38:22 GMT

Hello ,

I am happy to be a part of a forum wherein I can get a platform to let that writer in me out from hibernation . I am an electronics engineer and I worked for 7 years in the semiconductor industry , I took a break in November 2011 since my husband got posted to china.

Since then I have not been working on paper , which really doesn't matter. My life in china has been quite a mixed bag of experiences and the most interesting one is I now can communicate with the locals and read about 1000 characters ! Travelling to a different country and living in it are two sides of a coin I feel , fortunately I got to experience both these facets. Besides learning Chinese , I got a chance to lead a stress free life away from wading through the noisy and impossible Bangalore traffic to long walks in a garden :) I could also steal quiet moments for myself amidst endless cooking ( since we are strict vegetarians and have no other way but to cook and feed our stomach) , household chores , entertaining guests locally and from abroad,managing homework and assignment deadlines for the Chinese classes and to top it all a very very hectic social life owing to a size able Indian population and even otherwise :D:D . In those quiet moments I learnt to be more patient and forgiving with myself , learnt the art of cooking and picked it up really well ( I never really got a chance to cook as my focus then was career and education), my baking skills which I never knew I had went from worse to better and my friends keep pushing me to start a small home run bakery. I however have my heart set on writing and somehow feels this is the 'calling' of my life.

I would love to hear from all of you ,as to how did you find me and my introduction. Thanks for hearing me out :rolleyes:

Ordinary

ukuleleblack — Wed, 22 May 2013 22:10:42 GMT

DO you think you can describe a person as ordinary? Some books will do this to describe a character, do you think it's effective? Is there such a thing as ordinary?

The Place in The Sky

songwriter15 — Wed, 22 May 2013 21:19:32 GMT

This is the short story i origanally wrote for school and took my poem out of, so yes they do have the same title and you will see the same poem.
Critiques welcomed in both
Songwriter 15

The sky was dark and I was alone. Good. Sitting in the cool damp grass I stared at the clouds gray in the night sky. The picture was perfect. Here I was a beautiful petite blond with natural highlights and silver blue eyes laying atop a hill. Rain sprinkled down around me and a beautiful mist covered everything. My mind wandered to that day three years ago. It just kept playing in my head over and over again.

It was a warm sunny Monday morning, school had just ended and I was happy to be free. I was soon to be heading to Hawaii with my friends. High school graduation. It was a dream actually, having my parents letting me go on vactaion with friends alone. Tanya, Makenzie I were going with David, Tanya's boyfriend, Jacob, Makenzie's boyfriend and there friend Gabriel. I guess it was Makenzie's idea to try and hook us up. The day before we were going to leave I had started to panic, afraid of something hapining.

"It's ok Clarisa nothing's gonna go wrong." My parents tolled me as they handed my plane informatin.

"How do you know mom, what if one of us gets attacked by a shark." I sased back.

"Sweet heart just do your best not to spook your freinds ok."

"Fine whatever."

Three days passed and Tanya decided to rent a boat for the day, how fun. Half way from the dock Tanya realized she forgot her book and sunscreen. Deciding to go and get it she jumped from the boat and started to swim the three yards. That's when it happened.

She stopped swiming, unable to see what was kepping her trapped David decided to go in after her. I started to panic, something was not right and I didn't like the feeling. As soon as David reached her something grabed and pulled him under the shallow water leaving ripples on the surface. Screaming the people on the beach ran in our direction. They were to late. David surfaced bleeding from the arm that was not there any more. The shark didn't stop though, it grabbed hold of David again and killed him, moving on to Tanya. The rest of us on the boat realized that she was already bleeding from the bite in her leg and was shouting for help. Nothing we trid worked and Tanya left with David, leaving Makenzie and I crying our eyes out as the both boys held us in their arms.

When we made it back to shore people were screaming to get the bodies and keep us calm. My parents hugged me as I walked off that plane the next day, crying their eyes out. They tolled me they were the luckest parents alive. I still couldn't belive what happened my bestfriend and her boyfriend were dead and I somehow knew something was going to happen. A week later I sat at there funeral, wishing it was me in there place. When I was called to speak I rose silently and walked to the podem,

"I'm sorry to the parents who lost their kids, and i'm sorry to us that witnissed it. The thought that we'll never see them again is sicking. I blame my self now everynight even though I couldn't have stopped it. But they're in a better place now. God is looking over them. They're are angles looking down at us, from the place in the sky. They're in Heaven."

I sit up from were I lay on this hill and look to the sky, I shout why to the darkend sky. Tears stream down my face, i'll never forget what happened and I know my friends won't etheir. All we get to do is try and forget, forget what happened and remember our friends as friends.

The grace that God has given
US
Shall be held in our hearts
Remember the beginning
Forget the end
Know that who
You are is
Important
Embark on a journey of
A lifetime
Love
Live
And be saved
From the world
There is a
Place called
Heaven

Poetry contest 5/22 - 6/3

Isis — Wed, 22 May 2013 13:54:56 GMT

The biweekly poetry contest is back! Our hiatus for NaPo + change was much needed, but we're here to challenge you again with prompts and some healthy competition.

The theme for this round is travel, transit, or journeys. Where have you been? Where do you want to go? What does it feel like to be on a train, the cities rushing by? What about on a train of thought that rushes you through a poem? Show us motion. Show us a commute - the daily journey - or the once-in-a-lifetime one, whether it's a literal or a metaphorical journey.

The judges are lalodragon, Isis, and A23N.

Rules:
-- Entries should be sent to all of the judges via Personal Message
-- Entries are due by midnight, GMT, on Monday June 3rd.
-- There are no physical prizes, but there are three places for winners: first place gets five thank points, second place gets three thank points, third place gets one thank point, and runners-up get a peck on the cheek (or a fist bump if pecks are not your thing)

-- EVERY ENTRY RECEIVES A CRITIQUE.

The place in the sky

songwriter15 — Tue, 21 May 2013 22:15:54 GMT

The grace that God has given
US
Shall be held in our hearts
Remember the beginning
Forget the end
Know that who
You are is
Important
Embark on a journey of
A lifetime
Love
Live
And be saved
From the world
There is a
Place called
Heaven

Unlocked

Morgo2013 — Tue, 21 May 2013 21:47:31 GMT

A little more of a novel I have been working on. This introduces a new character into my story. All critiques welcome id love to get some quality feedback! :D

�Erg, what the f�� groaned a young girl as she slid herself up a wall after being brutally slammed into it. All she remembered seeing was a flash of light and then boom, knocked unconscious into this wall. How had she got here? She recalled what had led her to this point.
Sasha Goodridge was her name and she had spent her life walking with enormous pride. Pride in herself. She had always thought of herself as better than everyone else so much so that it was no longer a thought to her, it was a fact. She was better than everyone. Her wondrous red hair was the envy of all the other girls, her so beautifully tanned skin complemented her glistening hazel eyes. She was also blessed with teeth as white as cotton and the perfect figure that made all the boys lust after her.
Yes, she was better than everyone.
Or so she thought, the truth was that her mind was so clouded with vanity that she failed to notice that she was disliked by almost everyone despite being part of the so called popular crowd. Her hair was dyed, she wore terrible fake tan, her beautiful hazel eyes were nothing but cheap contact lenses and her figure was an illusion to herself made of nothing but too tight clothes and push up bras.
Pretty much everything about her was fake, nothing more than manufactured beauty by her own hand. The only thing beautiful about her was her voice, a timid, soft, gentle voice. Ironically her voice was the only thing she hated about herself; she thought it was too weak, too pathetic sounding to belong to such a domineering girl.
Her days usually began in front of a mirror in her huge room filled with all sorts of makeup and lotions.
�Being beautiful isn�t easy.� She often thought and said to people. She would sit for hours in front of that mirror, embellishing herself, making her appearance more and more perfect.
After a morning making sure she looked her absolute best she would walk to catch the school bus and would board it as if it was everyone else�s pleasure for her presence, like they should be honoured that she would share a disgusting bus with these vile looking people. Did they even care about their appearance? Obviously not.
School was never a big deal to her, she didn�t need education with a face like hers, she would just get a modelling job and make even more money that she didn�t need.
Already having an enormous house and rich parents that spoiled her rotten was not enough, she would make millions with her looks and all the modelling agencies would be at her like a moth to flame when she left school.
When she left school. For now she still had to go to the stupid place. She had people that she would sort of call friends, just for the time being, she wouldn�t need them soon. One she actually did sort of like was Danni, a shy, plain faced, dark haired girl who was basically her shadow.
A long day at school with those Neanderthals in her class had just about worn Sasha out. She wanted to be at home, in front of her mirror with her laptop and IPhone. The bell had rung to signify the end of school and wake her up from whatever lesson she was in, she didn�t really care.
She jumped out of her seat and rushed in front of everyone to get to the door and shot a snide look at Amie Sanders as she left the room. Snooty bitch, she had never liked her, too quiet, too modest, too nerdy. That Amie girl wasn�t good enough to even be in the same room as her.
Another boring trip home on the bus with people she hated. Or it was going to be at least, until Danni approached her. Behind her was Kyle Green, oh he was so hot. He was so cool, so popular; he was almost good enough for her. Almost, no-one is ever going to be good enough for her but he came pretty close.
�Hey! Sasha!� shouted Danni, running towards her with her hands waving. Wow, did she have any dignity? Oh well, if anything it made her look better in front of everyone. It made her look popular, although everyone already knew that.
�What do you want?� said Sasha looking down her nose at Danni.
�All the guys are saying there�s gunna be a fight in the town centre. Kyle and that Nick guy, yanno the weird one�
Had it been anyone else Sasha wouldn�t have cared, fighting was for apes. But this was Kyle, couldn�t hurt to go and watch him beat up some freak.
�Really? Well, I think I may go and see what�s going on, if I have the time. When is it happening?�
�They�re heading off now. Come on you don�t want to miss it.� said Danni getting all excited.
�Fine!� Sasha replied as if she had been convinced, the truth being that as soon as she heard Kyle�s name she was going. Without a doubt.
Both she and Danni discussed the latest gossip on their way to the location Kyle had picked. Everything from what went on at the most recent parties to who was seeing who to what was on the television that night.
Strangely they managed to talk about all that in a fairly short walk.