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Literature Text
'Sometimes people wonder where stories come from. A person can tell a story about something so unbelievable, yet so wonderful that it seems real. That's because it is.
I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.
Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No matter how long you stay there, you won't meet any other visitors or even know that they're there.
Stories come to us for a reason. It's because we saw something, met someone or did somewhat unusual things that we remember. We remember them and write them down or tell them to others. That's how stories are born.
It's a place I've visited so many times over the years that I've come to know it by heart. I know every little detail but it still doesn't cease to amaze me. Friends I've made are waiting for my return, things I've started are waiting to get finished and places that are expecting to be discovered soon.
One day you'll know your way around there as well as I do, maybe even better. You'll find friends for life, unexpected journeys are waiting for you and there are many things you've got to do while you're there.
But now it's time for bed.'
'No, I want to know about the adventures. Please daddy, please tell me!' My daughter cried out from her bed. I smiled at her and shook my head.
'Go to sleep and experience them yourself. Go talk to the oldest tree in the universe, go teach the fairies how to dance and go tame a dragon of your own. I'd love to hear about it in the morning…'
I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.
Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No matter how long you stay there, you won't meet any other visitors or even know that they're there.
Stories come to us for a reason. It's because we saw something, met someone or did somewhat unusual things that we remember. We remember them and write them down or tell them to others. That's how stories are born.
It's a place I've visited so many times over the years that I've come to know it by heart. I know every little detail but it still doesn't cease to amaze me. Friends I've made are waiting for my return, things I've started are waiting to get finished and places that are expecting to be discovered soon.
One day you'll know your way around there as well as I do, maybe even better. You'll find friends for life, unexpected journeys are waiting for you and there are many things you've got to do while you're there.
But now it's time for bed.'
'No, I want to know about the adventures. Please daddy, please tell me!' My daughter cried out from her bed. I smiled at her and shook my head.
'Go to sleep and experience them yourself. Go talk to the oldest tree in the universe, go teach the fairies how to dance and go tame a dragon of your own. I'd love to hear about it in the morning…'
Literature
Regenerate!
When skies are weeping,
When worlds shows out its rage,
And seconds ticking,
And you're not on the stage,
When depression takes its rights and
Absorbs you till the bone -
Your flesh gets stone -
In your hourglass there's no more sand
And you are like your bad clone...
Regenerate!
Say: "I'm stronger
Than all the world's
Sadness pack!"
Regenerate,
Wait no longer!
Release the holds
Of mock lack!
The world seems cruel,
They say you're wrong and add:
"Not us, but the life is such..."
Who made it such instead?
But this time it's the day when
You will get your right for life,
And this time will be crushing day
For the hiders of traps with knife.
Literature
The Murderer
To be able to kill, once more, would've felt like heaven.
He imagined himself being on the streets again, in a big yet quiet town. He imagined himself walking behind a middle-aged woman, maybe arm in arm with her grumpy husband. He would pass her, slowly, while observing the wrinkled face, some locks of grey hair unconcealed. The extravagant Gucci, which was meant to show how different she was— obviously, she was just as different as every woman of her age. The clamping high-heeled shoes, blue veins meandering through her skin. He could smell her perfume, a strong scent of dated nail polish and petrol. He would probably give her a pol
Literature
You cannot change this.
I told you this morning about my plans for the future. I remember the warm sun on my skin and my hair tied back in a loose bun as the dog sunbaked along with us, enjoying the morning but now I'm sitting in my blacken room, cold and isolated once again.
We talked about what we wanted to do and where we wanted to go and I loved it until I said I wanted to stand up for something that I am. You beat me down with your words that slipped like ice daggers into my heart, twisting once again.
I told you I wanted to try and show people that I am not wrong, not something to hate and not something that should be kept quiet but still, you told me to thi
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Heeeyyy,,,
This is something that I wrote because of something my dad and I were talking about... He used to make up stories for me when I was younger, and I asked him where he got them from, his answer wasn't exactly like this but I gave my own twist on it!
So I hope you like it and I'd love to hear what your thoughts are!
PS Special thanks to my amazing friend =capricordestin for reading, editing and improving this piece! Thank you so much for everything!
*hinthint* go check out her gallery people!
This is something that I wrote because of something my dad and I were talking about... He used to make up stories for me when I was younger, and I asked him where he got them from, his answer wasn't exactly like this but I gave my own twist on it!
So I hope you like it and I'd love to hear what your thoughts are!
PS Special thanks to my amazing friend =capricordestin for reading, editing and improving this piece! Thank you so much for everything!
*hinthint* go check out her gallery people!
© 2011 - 2024 SketchWriter
Comments157
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Overall
Vision Originality Technique
ImpactThis is a very interesting piece to read for many reasons.
Primarily, I am struck by how well the words flow, adding a light sense of gravity to the overall experience of reading, but not holding me to the ground, breaking my back under it's way. There is just enough there to keep me grounded, but just so, in spite of the fantastic elements that lay within.
Generally, I'm not to impressed with pieces that deal with the essence of imagination and creation, as I feel they detract from the overall impact of all stories. Such notions as an imaginationland, though not necessarily present here in such a direct sense, are burned out and overdone. Yet, having said that, there is a certain level of freshness that lays within the folds of these words.
My one detraction would be the book-endings of this piece, turning it into a story being told by a father to his daughter. It strips away from the impact, violently tearing me away from the beauty of the words and ultimately distracting. Without that, I love the philosophical nature of the story, overall.
Still, well done.