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Culture can be many things. It can be the traditions and customs that come with your ethnicity. It could be of your age, like youth culture. It could be of a community you associate with that makes you you. Explore what culture means to you/the character you're portraying.
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In honor of Pride Month, The Young Writers Initiative decided to theme our contest: PRIDE. All entries relate to the journey of LGBTQ+ folk, ranging from realization, being in the closet, coming out, facing backlash, acceptance, and the emotions that go along with it. We want to hear your story or the story of an LGBTQ+ MC in your story, poem, or art piece.
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Vexation
A woman stands alone among the destruction of her emotions. She can’t see the bodies from where she stands, alone in the woods, but she feels them. The trillions that lie lifeless across the world. Now she is alone. Soil sits soaked from the days of rain she forced upon them. Trees stand scarred and broken from the crackling lightning that split through the dark sky. Animals float in the running rivers. Plants bow their heads to the ground, too tired to stand tall. Too tired to be alive. All unwitting casualties in her attack against those crushed in their houses and trapped in their cars. And so she sobs. Clouds form again but they are tired too and only drizzle what’s left over the ruins of Earth. “I’m sorry,” she gasps and she crumbles to the ground. There has to be someone, something. But there was no one. Her fury had slaughtered all natural life on Earth. She was no longer their Mother. She was their Murderer.
A woman stands alone among the destruction of her emotions. She can’t see the bodies from where she stands, alone in the woods, but she feels them. The trillions that lie lifeless across the world. Now she is alone. Soil sits soaked from the days of rain she forced upon them. Trees stand scarred and broken from the crackling lightning that split through the dark sky. Animals float in the running rivers. Plants bow their heads to the ground, too tired to stand tall. Too tired to be alive. All unwitting casualties in her attack against those crushed in their houses and trapped in their cars. And so she sobs. Clouds form again but they are tired too and only drizzle what’s left over the ruins of Earth. “I’m sorry,” she gasps and she crumbles to the ground. There has to be someone, something. But there was no one. Her fury had slaughtered all natural life on Earth. She was no longer their Mother. She was their Murderer.
Enamor
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Enamor was inspired by the Greek interpretation of love. It is not only romantic, but familial, friendly, slight, and whole-encompassing. We challenged young writers and artists to take this prompt and at least one of the 7 types of greek love and create an impactful and creative piece about love. Writers from ages 6–27 were welcomed to join. Though it was based on the Greeks, submissions did not have to pertain to them. All that must be done was to write about at least one of the seven types of love in a beautiful manner. We encouraged fresh interpretations of the prompt as long as they did not stray too far.
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Be sure to check out the amazing pieces from our contest winners!
