Bad Writing Thread

Hey guys! So… a lot of us are writers. I consider myself a decent writer- however- I do have some terribly cringy writing that I’ve kept for a long time- and I’m sure we all have some bad writing when we first started out- I know I do!

I will be sharing it ASAP- but it’s currently on this app on my kindle… This terrible story I wrote when I was around ten and finished when I was around 13 (yes it took my that long to write one first draft lol) and I never continued it or edited it because it basically doesn’t have a plot and progresses very slowly.

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My first story was about Spongebob :sweat_smile::sweat_smile: I started it when I learned how to write and it was basically a short story about a day in his life :joy: I rewrote it almost every week, same plot, same words, same mistakes :sweat_smile: I’m not even sure why…it was weird but everyone has to start somewhere :smile:

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My original horrible story is up on Amazon

It’s rough

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Oh my lord! Give me a second and I’ll post my first ever draft of The Queen of Freaks :woman_facepalming:t4:

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Cringey Cringe-Cringe

Prologue

A loud thud violated Emilie’s eardrums. A waft of blood permeated through the air, swallowing her in a fit of rage and disgust. She spat on the floor, trying to understand, to comprehend what she had just seen. As quickly as this darkness had come, it lifted. The only souvenir of its visit was this human boy breathing his last, dying breaths. She could hear it all: his frail, frantic heart, fluttering as it attempted to restart itself in vain; the blood gurgling and rising from his lungs; even the flitter of his eyelids as he blinked stupidly at her, refusing to understand that this was the end of his life. This empty carpark would be the finale, the final bow, his last performance. Pretty soon, his curtains would close and she would have done nothing to help him. He was barely more than eighteen years old, yet he was staring death in the face. In pain. Bleeding out on the cold, unforgiving floor –

No. A wave of compassion flooded through her, washing away her own shock. Kneeling beside him, she lifted his head tenderly and placed two fingers upon his forehead. “Close your eyes.” She lacked the power to heal his wounds, but she would at least take away his pain and let him relive his fondest memories. She shuffled through his thoughts as if they were files, sorting the good from the bad, shredding the worst of them. These measured actions were taught to her at The Academy, yet not even the most organised process could prevent her from reliving all his experiences. She felt his first kiss tingle her lips, inhaled the satisfying scent of books in his local library, and watched his father walk out on him forever. In just a few seconds, she cried and laughed through his whole life as she pushed his fondest thoughts into his consciousness. His contorted face turned to gentle contentment, even acceptance. He knew he was dying, but it no longer mattered if this was what Heaven was like. Somehow she knew he would not be disappointed.

The boy smiled weakly and then everything stopped. She dropped her hand from his forehead, finally allowing her mind to buzz with unanswered questions. What had that darkness been? How could she explain his death? What about his parents? For the rest of the world, nothing had changed. The birds continued to tweet as they always did. The gravel continued to crunch beneath her. The cars in the distance continued to shoot past without a care in the world. The sounds of normality jarred horribly with the smell of blood. Nothing, nobody, would pay tribute to his death here. No one but her. The small stones on the ground cut uncomfortably into her knees, but she would not leave until she was certain his soul had been lifted. She lowered his head onto the ground gingerly and sat beside him, staring at the imprints the stones had left on her legs and attempting to gather her thoughts. He was still with her, that was certain. Probably his soul was staring at his body, disorientated. Was that not what any normal human being would have done? She never knew what to say to them. Who could tell what humans saw when they were being lifted to Heaven?

“What do you see?” She did not know why she had bothered asking. She may have sensed his presence, but she was not yet strong enough to see or hear the souls around her. She could not even be sure if he could hear her voice. “You should feel warm and happy all over. God will guide you if you let him be there for you. Go towards that happiness. Everything will be okay. I promise.” The soul continued to linger, whether it was from his confusion, or if her reassurance had been left unheard, she could not tell. There was the click of a car lock from behind and the even crumpling of gravel as another human entered the carpark.

“What the fuck?!” It was a woman in her late thirties, dressed for some sort of office job with her mouth spread into a pink lipstick ‘O’. She screamed. “What the fuck have you done?!” The human woman folded over, grabbing her stomach and heaving loudly, then continued to shriek. The human was going to call the police. Emilie would have to be prepared to pay the price for simply being here. Well, prison would have to be an option then. There was no way she would allow this boy to cross over without her, not after she had failed to save him from the darkness. All the birds in the trees had stopped singing, save from one persistent little mockingbird who warbled solemnly.

Emilie did not have time to waste on this shrieking human. She continued to speak to the boy’s soul affectionately, “It will be even better in Heaven. Heaven is a place for all the good souls in the world. You just have to trust that good feeling. Go there. Be happy.” She was still trying to coax the boy’s soul away by the time the sirens began to blare from the distance. She felt so stupid, useless. Why had she spent years at the Academy if she could not even help someone who needed it? Something sinister had stripped this boy of his life and all she had done was stand there helplessly, watching this robbery without providing any sense of justice.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, her voice faltering uncontrollably. Finally, she felt the soul disappearing, evaporating into nothingness as it was taken to Heaven. She continued to sit there silently, praying for his soul. No matter what this human had told police, they would surely understand. She would never do anything to hurt another living being. It had been long established that her people felt empathy stronger than humans did. The humans would understand that.

The sound of crunching grit returned, but this time there were more feet. Heavier feet. She heard one of the police officers sucking in air sharply, followed by the quickening of their pace. The two human men in uniforms approached her cautiously, but with purpose. They were clearly alarmed by the sight before them. Her palms and white jeans were covered in blood, her nostrils flared at the stench of death. Sweat was flecked through her thick, brown hair and yet she did not care. There had been an awful murder and, despite her magic, she was powerless. Confusion continued to swirl around in her mind, drenched in her guilt and self-disgust. Questions injected themselves into her consciousness painfully. Who? What? How? Why? There was no evidence of stab wounds, yet he would not stop bleeding. Even now, she felt the burning red liquid seep out of him, as if his whole body was crying. How was this happening? The Academy had taught her everything she knew, but no one warned her about such dangers. Did they even know?

The policemen watched her with cautious yet accusatory eyes. She was worthless, nothing, and they surely sensed it.

“Madam, I am going to have to ask you to step away from the body,” one of the men attempted to regain his professionalism. He rested one of his dark hands on her shoulder hesitantly, frightened.

“This is all my fault.” The sun was dipping in the sky as she began to sob. All happiness had been drained from the world. An innocent boy had been killed for no reason, by an unknown force. “I deserve all the punishment in the world. Take me away please.” The click of the handcuffs echoed through her empty mind as she was forced to stand up on her feet and the police officers began to read out her rights. She could hear the red and blue wails of the sirens cut through the air once again. The peals pierced through the streets like lances, parting the crowds of cars. She rattled around in the back, the metal bracelets digging into her wrists. She would be detained, taken away and dealt with later. She would be the first faerie to be jailed, but she would definitely not be the last. The humans did not understand.

Mr James Blount

“Sir.” A straight-faced faerie secretary in a black suit and tie bowed to James Blount as he rushed into his office, throwing papers onto his desk and frantically opening all his draws. He was looking for something.

“Where is it?” Mr Blount bellowed. This was the first time his faerie secretary had seen him in such a state. Usually, The Boss was the picture of composure and compassion. It was his job to care for others. He was a doctor, and a faerie one at that. Faeries did not lose their tempers. In fact, they did not have tempers to lose. They usually felt nothing but kindness and generosity. This was different, though. One of his own had been accused of murder. A faerie had been spotted at a crime scene with blood all over her. His niece. There must be another explanation for all of this. He clawed at his desk, seeming to find what he wanted, and pocketed it without a second glance

Then, he stopped and sighed desperately, seeming to suddenly notice his nephew, who was standing awkwardly and picking at the loose wood of the doorframe. “Aethan, what do you think?” Blount had dropped his arms, defeated, and the secretary quickly hurried out of the room. Both men were stiff as a board, confusion and denial swirling through their minds.

“She didn’t do it.”

“They have a confession, you know. Apparently.” A crease had formed between Mr Blount’s eyes, and Aethan could not help but notice how tired and old he looked.

“She didn’t do it.”

“I’ve seen faeries go off the rails before. Especially the young ones. Never as bad as this, though. Never someone as good as her.”

Aethan’s hands found his face, defending him from all doubts. “She didn’t do it.” It was barely more than a whisper. His certainty caressed his lips gently. Persistently. It had little time to settle in the room before Mr Blount was out of the door and racing down the stairs three at a time, briefcase swinging violently in his hand. Aethan was right. If it were any other faerie, Blount may have believed it easier. Not Emilie. Emilie was pure and kind and, well, he had known her since she was a little girl. He could never believe that she was capable of killing a human boy. She could barely sneeze without apologising for it. Emilie was not a celebrity. According to the faerie rank, she was nothing special. Just a middling faerie with average grades still attending The Academy. There was no reason for the human police to implement her in anything.

Mr Blount felt the pain of a father. He had practically raised her like his own daughter. He could hardly begin to imagine what Aethan, her older brother, would have been feeling when he answered the phone. He had been prepared to scold her for being late for her work placement, as usual, when the phone rang with the news. This was the first arrest of a faerie after three hundred years of peace. Why did it have to be their little Emilie? There was something seriously wrong with this. Maybe this was all some big joke and he would get down to the police station and Emilie’s lilac eyes would be shining at him, like lotus flowers floating on water. Maybe she would be wearing her best mischievous, lop-sided grin with her arms crossed, as she had when she was a child, playing silly tricks on them. Only, this time he knew it was no trick. This time the whole world would hate and fear his little niece. He did not care. He would do anything to save her.

The spring day was a choir of little birds cheeping in their nests.

The little birds’ nests were full of cheeping babies as he passed them. He could hear them all waiting for their protectors to come and provide for them, to fill them with food and protection and reassurance, to hush their little squeals and encircle them in soft, protecting wings.

The loud, bumbling steps of Aethan caught up to him before he had reached the corner of the road, hasty in his youth. Stealth would come with getting his wings. For now, the youth did not even need to shave his face. The only thing which hinted at adulthood was the new development of a deeper voice: unsettled and frequently cracking.

Every sign pointed to the idea that she had killed him. It was almost impossible to believe that she, a faerie, would take the life of a human, yet there was the evidence before them: the red, red blood of an innocent teenage boy. The fact that there was no weapon and no evidence of stab wounds or punctures pointed towards some sort of magical death, not a hate killing from a human thug. Humans could always be trusted to fear the unknown. If anyone was capable of such violence, it was one with a power they did not understand. Who cared what was in her heart when her hands were capable of doing evil so easily? Their heavy uniforms and weapons dragged them down, as did their silent accusations.

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I’m cringing so hard. Can I take this back and burn it from everyone’s memory?

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So edgy :eyes::eyes::eyes:

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I WAS A DEPRESSED TEENAGER WITH MCR ON REPEAT OK?!

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My first story was My Boss’s Son on Episode!
It was the first fictional story I’ve ever written that wasn’t forced by school…

I had never written before episode, and writing was always the subject I hated most in school and hated most to teach.

It embarrasses me every single time someone says they read or are reading it. :dizzy_face: and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

However, I’m thankful I did it. I had fun, and I actually like writing now, whether I’m good or not. It’s also much easier to teach when you like it.

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I think that’s better than anything I can write. Haha. :woman_shrugging: I like it.

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:eyes:

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I’ve decided that I’m not going to share the story on my kindle- because then I would have to type it into some sort of word document when I could just copy and paste something else so…

This was the first big novel idea I ever wrote. I had no idea where I was even going with the first draft- I didn’t even finish the first draft:


I was sleeping on a rough mattress in my room, listening to my parents arguing. The room smelled of mildew as crashes of thunder sounded loudly outside. I covered my ears. I was afraid. I didn’t know what my parents would do to me. I scanned the walls of my room. Yesterday Momma threw all my paintings away, dumping them in the trashcan in my room. “Momma, I worked hard on those for you!” I said, tears sliding down my cheeks. They felt hot and sticky as they slid down slowly. Momma glared at me. “Oh you’re just a 5 year old girl! Those drawings are worthless pieces of crap!” She yelled loud and pushed me as she stormed out. I was always scared my parents would do something to me, but they never did. They both hated me, I knew why. I was the daughter of their two best friends, but then, they died. Even though they hated me, they wanted me to call them “Momma and Pappa” they wanted it to seem like I was their real daughter. I never was. Soon I drifted off into a deep sleep. That night Momma had made special soup for me, she usually ordered pizza or we didn’t eat at all. Pappa wasn’t around, so she made it. It tasted awful. She poured chilli out of a can, heated it up, poured some water into it and put some cheese on it. She also gave me a little candy that she said would help me sleep. I ate it with the soup. I didn’t remember anything other than that. The candy was white and small and I couldn’t chew it, I could only swallow it. I almost choked on it as I gulped it down. As so many memories went through my mind, going black then seeing another memory, I suddenly woke up.
I woke up in the same place I had always been since six, a home for girls. In the same scratchy bed that was now partly covered with sweat. The nice pink blankets were on the floor, and the lights were on in the room next to mine. One of the older girls was folding sheets and waking up other kids who groaned in annoyance.
An older girl came into my room. “I had another nightmare,” I reported, panting. “Now get off the bed hun so we can change your sheets.” The girl said in a sing-songy voice. I could tell she was a little annoyed from taking care of the other kids. Paige, the older teenage girl, had stayed up all night taking care of sick kids.
Claire woke up crying. She hadn’t had much sleep that night with her nightmares, she was only five. “Ivy can you help her?” Paige asked, changing another crying little kid. I nodded. I was a big girl now, seven years old. I went to Claire. I sat in the rocking chair and brushed her long, pretty blond hair. She told me of her nightmare that her real parents were going to come back as monsters and take her away. I took off her little nightgown and put on her little pink dress.
Our home wasn’t exactly a normal home for girls. We basically lived in a motel, with different people taking care of different kids. The teenagers took care of the little kids, but I liked to help. Paige started putting all the dirty clothes in a basket. “Can I help?” I ask. “I do have a lot of work, but you have breakfast, Ivy maybe you should just take time to actually be a kid,” Paige replied, lugging the basket to the laundry room.
“Come on Claire,” I said, taking her little hand and leading her to the cafeteria. A kid named Jack was sent for today, he was getting adopted. He was eight, a year older than me. I looked into the isolation rooms. I gulped. That’s where they put the kids that were mentally ill. There were only two kids there, Jack and another boy. Jack was being escorted out by two teenage girls. He was smiling. “I have been chosen.” He said lifting up his head proudly and staring at me.
Claire yanked on my hand. “I wanna go get breakfast before it all is gone.” She whined. I let go of her hand and she walked off, but I looked into the dark hallway full of rooms. Usually, it was cheerful. But now the lights were flickering. I jumped when I felt someone breathing down my neck. I honestly thought it was a scary movie monster. But of course, I turned around to see the evil twins- Allisia and Ana. They were crossing their arms and smiling that wicked grin of theirs.
I heard a loud crash and looked down at my feet. “Since of course, Paige and the other older girls are way too busy to feed 203, you will,” Allisia ordered. I crossed my arms. These twins were a year older than the other girls, but they weren’t teens, they were supposed to feed 203. “You’re supposed to do it,” I mumbled, so nervous I could barely speak. They tilted their pretty strawberry blonde heads. Quick as a flash, Ana held me up against the wall. She was very tall, and I was much smaller than her. Allisia crossed her arms and smiled. “You could’ve been our friend, Ivy. But instead, you do this… to poor little us. If Ana hurt you, the other older girls would be on our side, believing the story we told them.” Ana made her grip tighter. “You wanna get hurt again, Ivy? Or do you wanna do what you’ve been told?” Allisia continued, her gaze seeming to hold me against the wall. Tears streamed down my face. I shook my head and Ana let me down, not even caring how I landed. I looked over the tray, all the food was either stale or moldy. It was too late now, they were already shoving me up to 203’s door. I opened the little slot in the door and saw a boy, and an empty tray. This was all a trap. I dropped the tray. “203 is hungry Ivy…” Allisia taunted. “If 203 won’t eat it, you’ll have to!” They already had me backed up into a corner. My heart pounded in my chest. I never noticed the ground shaking, the pounding on 203’s door- the sound of screws coming loose. Ana was punching me hard while Allisia held the tray up to my face. I gagged and got punched. When it was over, everything was blurry, but I still could hear Allisia. “Wha- what’s that? How… how’s the door open?” The iron-bolt door was wide open and a boy was standing in the doorway, grinning like a crazy person. Allisia and Ana screamed and ran. The boy looked at me, then took off, I didn’t even know which direction he went in, he was so fast. I slowly got up and walked to the cafeteria, where everyone was eating. I just never could shake the shivers that went down my spine. One question still remained, who was that boy?


Yep- no paragraphs- have fun reading that. I’m probably still a bad writer- I’m a teenager and when I’m actually an adult I’m probably gonna go back and look at the writing I think is great now and cringe.

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Really? @ChaoticDeluge was teasing me by reading parts out, so maybe I’m just extra sensitive. Thanks!

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I had a flair for the dramatic :joy:

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I actually really like it too. Besides…

:eyes:

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I have written so many cringy stories back then that the plots were so senseless :woman_facepalming: don’t have anything to share right now.

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Woahhh the improvement is blinding :joy:

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Oh well…there are parts I count cringy in my original story but I don’t know if I fixed them yet.

So turns out I didn’t fix the part I hate in my own story. I need to redo this whole part.

Summary

“A thousand years ago there were four immortal princesses by the names of Dantesha, Danica, Coraline, and Falla. But the only princess we will be focusing on is Dantesha the secretive princess,” Mrs.Ishi announced to her class. Everyone moaned. A girl raised her hand from the group of students in front of Mrs.Ishi.
“What is it Ms.Vaughn?” Mrs. Ishi asked.
“So what’s so mysterious about her?” asked Lena Vaughn.
“Humph, it’s her Life, Lena.” Mrs. Ishi said. Everyone was now interested. Mrs. Ishi started by saying. “No one knows how she died.” Forty minutes later class let out. It was the last class of the day kids were going home.
However, two girls went straight for the park talking. A group of boys saw them one asked,
“Who are they?”
“Oh, that’s Mica and Luna Black they’re not your average set of twins.”
“What do you mean?”who are these characters? Or does it matter? ritual?

 “Well, they’re just different.” 	

Mica said, “We need go to the tomb.”
“What are you crazy we can’t?”
“We have to, the wolving-time will be here soon and it will be too late.”
“I guess you’re right we need to do the ritual”
“Yeah, because it’s now or never Luna and we’re running out of time and we only have four days until the lunar eclipse.” They did not know Cardrins were watching them.
“Well what do we do now Syka?” The woman in front of them only said “Follow them to the Temple, Saiyan if you fail me the punishment will be severe.”
“Yes ma’am,” Saiyan signals his company to move out. The soldier ran on but as he was running, he sensed three to six different spiritual pressures. He stopped to check but all of sudden a wave went through him and he fell unconscious to the ground. The Vargs that were watching saw a black wolf attack the blonde wolf known as Shiba. Another wolf came out of the bushes and said
“Good job Shiba.” All he did was bow his head to her.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good, let’s get going.” He alerted the rest of the patrol and they were gone. The vargs were shocked by what they had just seen.
Alibi instantly said, “We should go after them.”
“I agree,” said another Varg by the name of Anjay. Everybody agreed with them both. They got to the tomb, and one of the lieutenants asked
“So who wants to go into the creepy tomb first?” They all agreed it was creepy then Alibi volunteered to go in alone. Half of them did not like the idea and that was the lieutenants but the captains agreed because of her speed. She changed to her cat form and went in alone. When could they morph? What, who are they?She crept around the corner of the tomb. She was getting the feeling as if she was being watched.
Then something moved from the corner of her eye. She turned around to see what it was, but nothing was there.
“Hey the tomb is supposed to be empty, right?”
“Yeah the scanner didn’t pick anything up in there.”scanner?
“Are you sure”
“Yes, the tomb is empty.”
“Ok!”
Alibi told herself it was nothing, but ten minutes later, she saw it again but clearer. Then in a flash, something hit her and she screeched alerting Kana. The others heard her and ran after her. Alibi was still alive but wounded severely across the chest. Kana checked her wounds and healed them but I did not think there were others nearby. Then someone appeared and said
“Have you found anything yet, Kana?”
“No sir, there’s nothing down here.” However, he soon notices that Kana’s aura was different and he reacted fast.
“Who are you?”
“Humph you’re sensing has improved Koga.” She changed to her true form.
“I should have known you be here Natasha.” Koga hissed. Natasha said nothing to him. Natasha started to pull her sword out but someone got him before she could.
“Natasha, what are you doing here?”
“I was wondering the same about you too,Kana, or are you here to get rid of Craven?”

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I don’t have a copy of the first story I ever wrote (and finished), but basically here’s what it was about:
A kid discovers he’s a triplet and his other two identical brothers were stolen from the hospital when they were born. But one day, they find out they have a brother so they go find him and start pretending to be him to fool the whole family. It gets super confusing for the family because the three of them have extremely different personalities.

I came up with that story because my cousin (who was 9 at the time), had these strange, abrupt changes in behavior for almost a year. A friend of mine has a copy of some of my very old stories and promised to send them to me next month, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get past the first page without getting traumatized from the cringiness of that story. :rofl::rofl:

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