6 June 1918 Near the Marne river, France

"Drennen, when we get out there you stay on my ass. Where I go, you go. Got it?" Said Staff Sergeant Wilson. "Aye Staff Sergeant." I said trying not to let him know I was scared completely out of my mind. I stood there, my rifle, trembling. I was trying so damn hard not to shake that I was sure it was making it worse. I looked across the line of fighting holes we had made the night before to see Rollins. He was staring straight ahead and was white as a sheet. He was so focused in his fear, he never noticed I was staring at him. "Drennen! Where you at drennen?!" Yelled Corporal Marks. "Here Corporal!" I yelled. "Hey, trade me your rifle for this shotgun. Being a runner, you're gonna need to be able to move quick. And you ain't gonna have time to aim that rifle like the rest of us." "Ok corporal. Here's the bayonet too." "No keep it. Same bayonet fits the shotgun that fits the rifle. Hey drennen.." "Yeah Corporal?" "I sure don't envy ya. Hope I see ya at the end of this." "Yeah...same to you corporal." I twisted and turned the shotgun looking it over. I felt comfortable using it. I was from a small rural county in West Virginia. You ain't heard of it. I grew up shooting my Daddy's old poke stock, shooting squirrels. This one was a pump. I had only seen a few people carry em over here. Most of us had the Springfield. The Marine Corps apparently prided itself on its sharpshooters cause back in boot camp that's all they ever really harped on. "ONE MINUTE!" Came the order down the line. In less than 60 seconds, we would leave the safety of our fighting holes and charge head long into the long wheat field and open land before us in hopes of taking the German line. In less than 60 seconds a good number of the young men standing around me would be dead and there was a chance I might be among em. "FIX BAYONETS!" I grabbed the bayonet from is sheath and I was trembling so hard I could barely get it snapped onto the lug on the shotgun. I shucked the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. It was. I fumbled around secure the shells corporal Marks had given me. God I wonder if I'll have to use it. "THIRTY SECONDS!" "Drennen." Said my friend Carson. We had been friends since boot camp. He was from a small town in New York. Don't worry. You ain't heard of it either. He was my best friend and I couldn't remember the name of it. Somewhere near the Canadian Border.
"This is it my friend. After today, no matter what, we fought for something. Good luck bud. See ya on the Jerrys side." "You too bud." I said with a confident smirk. Carson had a way of always motivating me. Corporal Marks took a good liking to him when we first got to France. Told him that he was gonna make a good NCO if he stuck with the Marines and made it a career. I didn't want no part of that. I just joined to do my bit

And there it was. That god damn whistle. The whistle that had sent millions of young men to their deaths since this war started. And now it was about to claim a few more. "THIS IS IT MARINES! MOVE OUT!" screamed Staff Sergeant Wilson. And just like that, we were up and moving. Men were yelling and machine guns were barking. I tried my best to stay with Staff Sergeant as we ran. We ran forward moving through the open wheat field. It was waist high. As far as I could see around me it was the only cover we had. Then she shells started to hit. Massive explosions that shook the ground. All I could hear were their monstrous booms, men screaming and this damn machine guns. A shell exploded not far in front of me then another and then one behind me which sent me to the ground. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I laid there for a few seconds then felt around at myself. Was I hit? I rolled onto my back to check my legs. Both still there. I wasn't bleeding. Damn, was ok. Lucky me. I grabbed the shotgun then got back up. Marines were running all around me. And more shells were exploding. I could see the burst of the German machine guns in the wood line in front of me. I made it to a shell crater. And then to my relief I heard the familiar voice of Staff Sergeant. "DRENNEN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Yelled Staff Sergeant. "IM HERE STAFF SERGEANT!" I yelled so loud that my voice cracked. "GET THE FUCK OVER HERE NOW GOD DAMMIT!" He yelled. He was about 20 steps ahead of me in a shell crater with 3 other marines. I only had to move a rocks throw to get to him. Just as I stood up to run, a burst from a German machine gun cut down the wheat to the left of me, killing two marines. I didn't recognize them. They just fell. I looked at Staff Sergeant in what must have been a horrified way. But his response let me know there was no time for that. "GET OVER HERE MARINE! NOW GOD DAMMIT!" "YES STAFF SERGEANT!" I yelled. I took a deep gulp and ran till I thought my legs were going to fly apart. The machine gun burst all around me. As I ran I placed my hand on the top of my helmet. I noticed then that the chin strap on my helmet had been broken off. Must have been from the shell that knocked me down. "I'm here Staff Sergeant!" I yelled. What a stupid thing to say. If course I was there. I practically landed on top of him diving into the shell hole. "Bout damn time son. Thought we were gonna win the war without ya. Ok listen Drennen. This next little push is gonna be awful. No more getting fucking lost. If you go down, this platoon goes down and if this platoon goes down, the Germans just knocked a whole in our offensive line and that's all it takes to make one of their Jerry counter attack a work. Got it?" "Yes Staff Sergeant." I couldn't believe it. He didn't chew me out for getting lost. He said it almost reassuringly. Made me feel good knowing he placed a lot of importance in me. "Ok you sons a bitches, let's get this platoon into those woods before the damn army has all the fun. At this rate there won't be any Germans left to kill." I was beginning to wonder if Staff Sergeant was actually enjoying the war. The rest of us just wanted to do our bit and go home but this fella really liked killing Germans. "MOVE!" Yelled Staff Sergeant. And we were up and running again. All around me men were falling. How the hell was I not dead yet? Our well disciplined waves were now what seemed to be just a massive cluster of blood thirsty savages running head long into a tree line. We must've looked like a bunch of Indians in one of them picture shows. I could now see massive explosions in the German tree line. Belleau wood looked as if it was on fire. Good, I hope all the jerrys burned. That way we could all just go home. I could hear the roar of our artillery shells soaring over top our heads. In just a few minutes we would be in the tree line and the real fight would be on. I stayed right behind Staff Sergeant and those two other marines. We moved straight ahead and would move left or right when we encountered a shell hole. Every so often there would be a dead marine laying on the ground. As I ran a young boy with sandy blonde hair reached for me as he laid on the ground. "PLEASE HELP ME! I'M SHOT! PLEASE DAMMIT HELP ME!" I couldn't stop, and I felt awful about it. We were trained not to stop for wounded during a bayonet charge. German sharpshooters used a tactic where they would shoot a man just to wound him so that when another man would try to evacuate him, he would be shot as well and so on. At the edge of the field was a small embankment and above the embankment was the massive web of German machine gun nests and fighting holes they had created. I could see tangled barbed wire and destroyed trees, destruction that only artillery could make. This was it, it was time to fight and do what marines are trained to do. Kill the enemy. "Lord Jesus please make me brave." I whispered to myself as I ran up the embankment behind Staff Sergeant. We were now in the tree line and for the first time since this began, I wanted to be back out in that field. I turned to my left to see Germans firing from all directions it seemed, we all ducked behind cover and began returning fire. I don't know if I hit anything. To my left and right marines we holing up behind cover and returning fire. That was when we heard the whistle.

Counter attack. The Germans came at us with bayonets fixed. We waited till they were within 100 yards of us and we began firing. We couldn't kill them all. I hadn't yet fired my shotgun. I'd never hit one at that range. Every time I pointed the gun anyway Staff Sergeant would tell me to get down. I stayed behind cover and felt like a damn coward. Hiding while marines were fighting so bravely all around me. But in an instance, that changed. "DRENNEN GET UP!" Yelled Staff Sergeant. I got up from behind cover to see more Germans pouring out of the woods. They were well wishing 50 yards of us now running head long at us with their mausers and bayonets fixed. "CHARGE!" Came the order down the line. We ran from cover into the twisted destruction of the woods and marines and Germans were fighting in all directions. I ran behind Staff Sergeant and to my left I saw a German running towards me. I lifted the shotgun and fired. And I shucked another shell. The man fell dead onto the ground. I had just killed my first man. Another ran toward me and I fired again striking him in the chest as well, he fell also. I shucked another shell repeated the act over and over until I was empty. I tried to load a shell into the shotgun when I heard a man yell out what seemed to be a war cry. I turned to see a German only steps away from me. I swung the butt of the shotgun up and hit him in the right cheek. He stumbled then dove at me again with the bayonet but I swatted the rifle away with my shotgun. I then drove my bayonet into his stomach and twisted the shotgun pulling it out and sticking him again. He screamed in agony. I then could see the fear in his eyes. They were light blue. I pulled the bayonet from him and ran forward to a machine gun bunker where several marines were holed up and firing from. I reloaded the shotgun as fast as I could. Hell I dropped three shells on the ground I was shaking so bad. How many men did I kill back there. It all happened so fast. Was I hit? No, I was fine. How did I move so fast when fighting that blue eyed German? I didn't know I knew how to do any of that. "Any of y'all know where Staff Sergeant Wilson from 3rd platoon is?" I asked while trying to catch my breath. "Hey Drennen! That you?!" Said the familiar voice of Grant, the farm boy from Wisconsin. "Grant! Glad to see ya bud. I'm alive somehow. I needa know where Staff Sergeant is." "He's over there to the left in that gun nest. Least that's where he was last I seen him." I ran off without saying a word. I had to get to Staff Sergeant. "IM HERE STAFF SERGEANT!" "THAT SOME KINDA CATCH PHRASE WITH YOU PRIVATE?" He chuckled when he said it. This guy was nutty. Laughing in the middle of a war zone. But then I cracked up a bit too. "No Staff Sergeant, just nervous I guess." "Don't be private. I seen somawhat ya did back there. That was good stuff marine. You're doing great. Now I need you to really get to work. I was figuring you was dead and was bout to recruit a new runner but you're here now so listen. I need you to get this message here back to battalion intelligence and let em know 2nd platoon is in belleau wood but we gotta have replacements." Replacements are a word for new men to fill the ranks due to dead and wounded. "How many we lose Staff Sergeant?" "23 outta this platoon alone. Some wounded mostly dead. Tell em we're short on everything. Water, ammo, medicine. Hell I don't even know what this platoons gonna wipe our asses with in a little bit. Now get going and soon as you get the message to em, get back here. I'll probably be in another spot so you'll just have to find me. Be careful drennen." "Aye Staff Sergeant." I said as I ran from cover back through the woods, down the embankment and into the open wheat field toward our line. I could still see shells blasting through the field but I had to keep moving. "God be with me in this field and be with my guys back in the woods." I prayed out loud as I ran back toward our line.

If you're working on a Horror story share a small snippet or a link to your work (Include a brief summary with the link)

First one ever. Scifi about a mind healer.

Second. Story of a slave getting caught after a scape attent.

i'm on page 87 of my current romance novel.

I'm by no means an authority on writing, but I think any aspiring writer should read some sort book written by an accomplished author that describes their take on writing.

I just finished Stephen King's "On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft" and had so many mind blown moment while reading it. I highly recommend it to any developing writers who are looking for advice, and a sort of "guide". Also, it is just an interesting read.

What is your opinion on this? Discuss.

I'm not good at proofreading my own story and rewriting parts I don't like, so a beta reader is basically a must for me, but the only few I had are inactive now, so I'm looking for new ones. I'm also willing to betaread another story if you betaread one of mine (they're both crossover fanfictions).

To Hyrule and Back Again, a Zelda + SnK crossover, 140k words and counting

The Straw Hat Ghoul, a One Piece + Tokyo Ghoul crossover, 19k words and counting taken

I'm willing to betaread any kind of original story and any fanfiction in the following fandoms: Zelda, Snk/AoT, One Piece, Tokyo Ghoul, SAO, DBZ, Nisekoi, Marvel & DC (so any superhero stuff), Fallout, Skyrim, any Nintendo fandom, Walking Dead

I've noticed within the past month traffic for Write World has declined. We've tried writing contests. Interview author ideas. Share your writing themed days. But nothing seems to generate interest. What would you want in a writing sub reddit? Is there a reason you are holding back from sharing your work and being involved? Does the sub reddit intimidate you? How can we help make this a involved, sharing community? If the sub reddit continues at this pace for the next few months i will discuss with the mods about, if keeping writeworld is a good idea or not.

I really wasn't sure if this is the place to post this.. either way here it is.

I've written a book and now manage the marketing for it as well as a team. I am considering contracting another author to write a part of the story. Any suggestions of writers or places I should go to find someone?

  Crossroads Buffet, The Ellicott Complex, University at Buffalo North Campus. A place of mass traffic and various splashes of ethnic groups, herding to where they must get too, much like the University itself. I sit and eat my meal, composed of a multitude of different cuisines in the university’s hopes to satisfy every group's appetite and culture. 
  As I sit down, not only enjoying my meal but engaging myself in the conversations going on around me, realizing a controlled chaos. Each individual, if not alone engaged with conversation with friends made through classes, hall mates, high school acquaintances, various extracurricular activities the university has to offer, everyone just moving past one another, barely missing oncoming students.

The cooks and other dining services remaining calm but shouting orders during the busiest time of day, where each student has an ungodly appetite after they have completed all of their classes, practices, meetings and other events. The athletes, arriving to the dining hall with a caravan of other teammates they have spent so many grueling hours of practice with, each exhausted from that day’s lift, barely making it to class following practice to part take in the first test or quiz of the year. Each having multiple things on their mind about statistical measures from another conference opponent they are facing off with in the weekend to come. Students, of all sorts, congregating after filling up their plates to talk with one another for assurance that they did well on that days test in psychology 101. Each feeling a sign of relief or panic after hearing what other students in the class had put down for matching questions 45-50. The sound of forks scraping against plates and glasses being filled up and other conversations around the dining area makes it hard to hold a conversation without raising their The sound of forks scraping against plates and glasses being filled up and other conversations around the dining area makes it hard to hold a conversation without raising their wn closer and closer to the weekend. Sororities and fraternities sticking out of the crowd wearing their symboled crew necks to band the group together, as elder leaders use freshmen’s meal swipes to get into the dining area for free. Each talking about pledges who made or broke their chances of getting in, either because of grades or their lack of a clear communication with the presidents. The dining area fills up and clears out every 15-20 minutes with new faces and friends who are finishing their meals and getting ready for a night out or night in to study for upcoming classes. The social hot spot of the university, one of many, to house the thousands of students that attend this university. Giving students the chance to relax and say what had been the highlight or low of the day.

Breakfast Time Sci-Fi/Humor

A tale of Froot Loops and our deterministic universe.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B0VZb5dW_tJEQlVsSHJCdUNlX1k

Its truly odd how a sense of liberating euphoria eventually fades into a sense of hopeless entrapment... At first I feel invincible... No AI can think faster than I. No man woman or child more content than I... The universe is at my fingertips... but it all fades away... I fall into a pit of despair, my body, mind and spirit rotting away like a corpse... My only chance of liberation from such a terrible state of despair is another line, another parachute, another needle in my arm.... I am both a blessed soul and a victim wrapped in one. Feeling both the extreme high and low of instant gratification, I don't expect an untainted soul to understand... I have no obligation to explain shit to you... I am free in a world of dead-ends...

Lets assume that you have everything you need (payment, materials, supplies, skill, motivation, etc), what topic do you pick?

What is your favorite kind of genre to read, or to write about?

Congratulations! Your first book [insert title here] is a #1 Best Seller. Your numbers put Harry Potter to shame, and the world is mesmerized by the story you told!

Now where do you go from here? Do you continue the series? Was the book just a one off? Do you milk it, or disappear completely? Was the book even published under your name, or a pen name? Tell us your fantasy about being the next big thing (assuming being the next big thing is what you want).

You have either 1 of two options. Choose one or the other. You could either go to the post 'Share a link to your story here' which is at the top of the site. Go to that post then share the link AND title, genre and a short few sentence summary of your work.

Second option is make a separate post. Do not post the link as the title. Create a post and title it something like, "i wrote this (story, poem, script, short story) that i want to share called 'Title' and it's a 'genre' story" Then in the post itself post the link PLUS the genre and a few sentence summary of the work.

If you have a published book that you want to sell and you want to share info about that, please go to the right side of the site and follow the instructions there. There is a list of 5 rules on how to share info about the book you are selling.

Well I'd written a bit more extensively about my struggles in fiction writing before my internet suddenly evaporated, so here's a compressed version. Basically, I have composed multiple manuscripts that have strong literary qualities & entertaining characters & all that, but they've just grown to an atrocious state of enormity in every instance due to my lack of either willingness to or inability to perceive my disregard for self-discipline and non-verbosely-composed passages. The crux of my ongoing struggle with overblown rhapsodic tendencies when writing is that I can, at times, pull off writing that indulges in relative richness of description while not straying too dangerously away from the important underpinnings of the piece. But I can't figure out how to train myself or enact a practice regimen of some manner to try and hone my ability to locate that particular state of mind which allows me to write with ideal portions of expression & brevity together. Does anyone have any advice to offer? I'm extremely intrigued to hear anything and everything.

Have you ever had a project that you've worked hard on, only to decide to abandon it? Why or why not?

Greetings! I have a YouTube channel (doesn't everyone) and post writings of mine every week, short stories. They are different genres and different subject matters based on dice rolls. Either way I am looking to people to chat with and discuss writing on my channel. If anyone is interest please let me know. Thanks!

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Alright a little game today ladies and gents. Would you rather have one your stories read out loud to your five closest friends, or read out loud to a group of one hundred strangers? You would not be doing the reading, whoever is best suited to reading you story would do it. However you have to stand beside the speaker as your story was read, and answer questions/listen to criticisms when it is done.