About YWA
Contact Us
598 Brookside Drive, Eugene, OR 97405
Email Us
Young Writers Association - Lane County

Scary Writing Text 2012 Age 11-13

Scary Writing Text 2012 Age 11-13

1st 11-13 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for originality and poetic sensibilities.


Dylan Troyer

Spencer Butte Middle School

Age 13




The epic battle rages

Each October 31st.

The annual war of candies,

Where foils and wrappers burst


In a porcelain arena,

Storm brewing overhead,

Meet the chocolate demons

With cloaks of yellow and red.


Young and cocky Kit Kat,

Leaps into the fray.

Dancing around Butterfinger:

Footwork’s his forte.


The old snack barely flinches,

Then strikes a single blow.

“Can’t lay a finger on me:

This ain’t a dancing show.”


Three Musketeers, they disagreed

And pranced in with swords drawn.

“A lighter way, that’ll never play!”

And Snickers bid them gone.


“I satisfy,” said Snickers.

“I’ve got nuts and chocolate too.”

But Reese’s beat him to pieces,

“This show needs something new.”


“A show’s a good idea,”

Said Skittle with a twirl.

“Taste the rainbow, little candy,

And get beaten by a girl!”


“You’ll never win!” said M&M,

“You’re fruity and you’re tart.

We melt in your mouth, not in your hands

So we’ll knock that rainbow apart.”


The carnage carried onward

Wrappers strewn across the floor.

Sugary slaughter cloyed the air

‘Till the victor said, “No more!”


Hershey stood victorious,

He’d made his final stand,

When descending from the heavens,

Emerged a giant hand.


The porcelain arena,

Was simply a candy bowl.

The hand belonged to a child,

Reaching for his goal,


The sing-song voice from above

Shouted, “Trick-or-treat!”

While Hershey fell defeated.

Well, candy’s meant to eat.



2nd. 11-13 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for originality, attention to detail, and surprise factor


Zoey Minium

Thurston Middle School

Age 11




            “Drip, drip, drip.” Rain was pouring in through the barn roof and hit the overflowing bucket.

            “Mom, you in here?” Luci yelled in the barn holding an umbrella. She noticed her mom’s foot keeping a pen door open, where the pigs ran out squealing. While running to her mom, it smelt like fresh cut hay and cow manure. When she got to her mom all that was there was her mom’s boot. There was fresh cut hay in one of the corners. Luci started to dig.

            “Ow, ow, ooowww!!!” Luci pulled her hand out and started to suck her palm where it was bleeding. She started to dig where she was, plucked and pulled out a carving knife.

            “What’s going on in there?” asked Tom, Luci’s dad. Tom noticed Luci’s hand was bleeding, she hand a knife in her other hand, and he noticed Emilie, Luci’s mom’s boot right next to her.

            “Where’s your mom?” Tom asked.

            “I thought you’d know,” said Luci in a serious but stern voice.

            The next day crept right upon them quickly and quietly. While waiting for the police to call them back about the case, Tom was reading the Register Guard and noticed that their barn was on the page he was looking at, but it was on fire. He read aloud…, “1879 was a horrible year for the Hoax family when their daughter Emilie set the barn on fire and killed herself.”

            “So my mom died 133 year ago?” said Luci.

            “Well, she wasn’t really your mother,” said Tom. “Your real mom died when you were only one.”

            “Honey, I’m home!!” yelled Emilie, as she closed the door behind her.



3rd 11-13 yrs. YWA SCARY WRITING 2012 Chosen for its surreal quality and sense of horror.


Ryan Schwin

Crow Middle School

Age 13


The Asylum’s Secret



            “Where am I? Who am I? Who are you?” screamed a man who didn’t know his name.

            “Nurse! He needs more sedation,” yelled the doctor across the asylum’s otherwise empty room.




            The man woke with a cold sweat dripping down his face, strapped to a cold metal bed. He scanned the room, and spotted the doctor seated near the door. Something was out of place. The doctor’s jerky movements suggested years of joint pain. The doctor also had a very shiny face, same with his hands.

            “Hi there,” the doctor said, his warm rancid breath filling the man’s nostrils. The man gagged.

            “I’m going to make you all better,” said the doctor. “We need to give you plastic surgery.”

            “Why? What’s wrong with my face?”

            “We’re not just going to redo your face. We’re going to do your whole body.”

            The nurse came through the door very jerkily, just like the doctor had. This was very wrong, the man thought. She looks to be in her twenties!

            “What’s wrong with me?” the man shouted again.

            “You’re too human,” replied the doctor.

            The man realized with horror what was going on, why they walked without bending their knees, why their skin was glossy, etc.

            The doctors and nurses were dolls.


The End.



Copyright © 2012 Young Writers Association (YWA)
598 Brookside Drive, Eugene, OR 97405
541/485-2259 - Email Us
stirring up literary play in youth & in the community
Site hosted by Datahost
Dynamic Content -powered by MightyMerchant v4.6