Young Writers Society

I stumbled forward through a tangle of vines, and took another glance around the lush forest, hoping to push a surge of renaissance. Something was too familiar about the thorn thickets and barriers of timber surrounding me; I just couldn’t dub it accurately.

A soft breeze ruffled my hair as and faint whispers of scattered words slithered from every direction.

“Desirae,” a soft voice sang, gently louder than the rest. I reeled around and looked to the right; no one was there. I moved my gaze to the left, yet the orator of the voice remained unseen.

An aroma of sweet-smelling cologne pervaded the air, teasing my nose. I brushed my awareness of the vague familiarity begging to fill my mind with something rather than empty memories, and listened closer for a second calling.

“Desiraaae,” a husky voice called my name, harsher than the first one. My ears perked up for a moment, then my hopes drooped; the voices were so conversant, but it was all too ambiguous.

A swarm of bats swooped overhead, and I ducked with a yelp as they passed to the northern extent of the woods. Hastily, I moved forward. The echo of a thin twig cracking permeated the woods, sending a chill down my back as the visual of several unpleasant creatures awakening lingered in sight.

“Desiraaaee… go on…” the voices began to fade as a stroke of recollection hit me. I grasped the memory I was looking for, and I knew that if I didn’t hurry; everything was going to disappear like it had before.
“Desiraaeee,” the whisper sang again in a tone bribing me forth.

I cautiously peered ahead, where the tiny house stood, looking as it had every time before: rusty red, and deserted.
Vigilantly, but hurriedly, I entered, unprepared for the painful image. My heart fluttered rapidly, and my feet clamped. There I was, dead; skin paled and a knife pierced through my heart. Blood slid down my torso, and settled into a puddle I was lying in. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image had already sewn itself to the inside of my eyelids. I strained to turn and run, but all I could do was stand there and scream.

It's got good potential. If you're writing it geared toward teens, then use more known words. Make sure to add lots of details. I would love to read more!!!

It need more detail and scary parts. I would love to read more of it. If you had details.

This shows potential! It's the type of story that had me wondering what was coming next up until the last sentence. It was unclear, giving me a foggy sort of impression. And that isn't necessarily a good thing.
I love where you are going with the story, but the set-up is very unclear, making it hard for the reader to relate at all to your character. For example; maybe you could give more insight as to why the voices were haunting her?
There were quite a few run-on sentences where you tried to fit in too many good descriptions at once. I would suggest saving the description for a later sentence where it can fit together smoothly with the preceding sentence.
A few words seemed very out-of-place like 'renaissance'. Sometimes smaller words are better, especially if your using lots of adjectives.
Over-all, I would suggest focusing on keeping your words smooth.
Your writing has potential! Keep up the good work!