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stories are small particles of life hidden in our souls.you can set a whole new universe throught a story. it is a wonder how a a person can actually enclose feelings inside paper and letters.
By Kostas on 05.06.2013
fariy tales, english teachers. some aren’t always true. horror, imaginary, scary, ghost, dark. books, fables, animals, Kindergarden, little kids, truth, lies, princesses, frogs, love romance, trust
By Charlotte on 05.06.2013
fairy tales, english teachers. some aren’t always true. horror, imaginary, scary, ghost, dark. books, fables, animals, Kindergarten, little kids, truth, lies, princesses, frogs, love romance, trust, school, chapters, long, short, true fake, real-life, life, sad, happy, joyful, musical, plural,
Stories are what we rely on, You and I
to take us to places lost somewhere nigh
amidst glued, sheltered minds
You and I
You and I are now
but we were You and I then
and we will be You and I again
until these moments become stories
stories You and I will only remember
and You and I will remember
We will remember
By Lily URL on 05.06.2013
Stories are fun. You get to make things up and pretend you’re happy and have fun with it. I could write a story about a kid who has a wonderfully happy life and that would be tons of fun. imagining it… maybe believing it if i was crazy enough at the time. I want a story…
By Cathalos URL on 05.06.2013
She told me stories, and I’d quietly listen as her fingers typed and the breeze chilled my skin. I would curl up with a book, and then find that she had messaged me or wanted to talk to me. Her stories were amazing. They made me feel as if I was in an entire different universe, and they took me away to another place. She told me stories, but they weren’t just stories. They were life lessons.
By Kayla URL on 05.06.2013
Hello any sort of one have very same complication, I have the laser printer
HP keeping up my HP Compaq, it is a color laser printer, times its
printing black and white. Why, exactly what took place?
By xerox phaser 8560 ram error URL on 05.06.2013
The stories he told were often untrue though so entertaining, everyone often got caught up in their grandeur and peculiarity. They seemed loosely based in reality though with heavy doses of exaggeration and conjecture.
By pzero URL on 05.06.2013
What are stories?
The collection of blood, sweat, tears, heartache, and headache from the years before us? The speculations of years ahead of us? The reality that lies before us?
Dirty, dark, torrid little things.
They exist and they die, just like every legacy ever breathed upon this earth. But still, just as we continue to live and survive, they do the same.
“Tell me a story,” we say.
And someone will answer, “Once upon a time…”
Strangely enough, the best story of all time, began with the simplest of words and settings and places, saying “In the beginning…”
By Sara H. URL on 05.06.2013
The story was her life. She had poured every ounce of her being into these 100 pages, now bundled up in a paper bag in her purse which she clutched tightly to her chest.
By Maddie on 05.06.2013
They carry the history of the people. They tell tales of bravery and tales of wisdom. They are the tales that help the next generation learn form the past’s mistakes. They are precious to us.
By Evan URL on 05.06.2013
I would never tire of his voice, of the words spilling from his lips in soft lilts and tales of past adventures. Maybe it wasn’t so much the stories I loved but the way he told them, or perhaps him himself. He just had this way of speaking that never failed to captivate me.
By Izabella URL on 05.06.2013
These stories I hide,
They stay inside,
I keep it to myself
These Stories I hide
By Becca URL on 05.06.2013
Writing your imagination into a twisted tale of fairies and goblins, loved one, plot twists, and every little detail necessary. Turning your life into a fantasy land.
By Emmy Loo Hoo URL on 05.06.2013
I love to tell stories I have a wild imagination sometimes .it take me to places that only exist in my mind. wont you come and join me . once upon a time is just one of the lines I like to begin with.
By annette on 05.06.2013
She often wrote stories. About herself, her new life with her dad. She still called it new even after a year, because it didn’t feel like her mom was really dead. It just couldn’t be true.
By Vann URL on 05.06.2013
This is me, not thinking. Just writing stories. Stories about things that never happened. But might have happened. A long time ago. In a galaxy, you know, far, far away.
But I digress. Wait, is digression thinking? I’m just supposed to be writing. Writing what? Oh yeah, stories.
By Dave Rogers URL on 05.06.2013
All of them together weave a cliched quilt. It’s common, but it’s my life anyhow. I’ve got a racist grandpa and a crazy cousin. I’ve had a bad breakup and a love story worthy of a romance novel, just like the rest of you.
By Madi URL on 05.06.2013
They’re how I live. I embellish and I hyperbolize. That’s how I fill in the holes of my life. As someone I admire would say, it’s not that I hate my life, it’s that I need to patch in all the empty spaces and ugly spots with a humorous filling.
I had heard the stories before. All of the stories, actually. Geronimo never let up with them. I knew his life story almost better than he did. In fact, when he started retelling stories to passerby, I would sometimes correct him if he couldn’t remember a detail or botched a date. It was almost as if I was becoming the mental stenographer for him here.
So I bought a typewriter from an old friend. Geronimo appreciated the tick-tack sound as I recorded his tales.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 05.06.2013
There was a time when stories held emotion, a picture. They held an image of what was to come and what would never be. They took us on adventures to other places, but now all I see is darkness.
By adriana on 05.06.2013
I remember when I was younger, we would go camping as a family and my dad always told stories that summarized our day, except he would change the names so we never realized he was talking about us. These stories are what made camping what it was. Fun.
By Gabriella Marrufo on 05.06.2013
My father is made of stories. His silver hair is woven with carefully chosen words and his fingerprints are laced with periods and semicolons and apostrophes. The tip of his nose is a perfect “once upon a time” and the nape of his neck is every “The End” in the whole world. My father is built from the ground up by story upon story and that is why he is still here with me. Every word I think or write or speak belongs to my father; is for my father: keeper of stories.
Stories can never die; neither can my father.
By Ruby on 05.06.2013
I tell stories about myself in my head. I want to be a new Ashley and I make stories about her to comfort myself. There are stories untold within me, and within the world about me. Stories that haven’t become themselves yet, but are waiting to become fairy tales? Watch out for the evil stepmother.
By Ashley on 05.06.2013
They say in each of us there is a story, perhaps several stories hat are bubbling under the surface waiting for the opportunity to be broadcast to the world. Penelope had many that were ready to tumble out, word after sordid word, but she played the waiting game and continued to watch and listen instead.
By Amimee URL on 05.06.2013
There are many stories in this world, too many to be told and too many to hear. There are stories of the past, the present, and the future. Stories of heroes and dragons, of love and lust, of monsters, daemons, and angels.
However, there is one story that has never been told.
Should it remain that way?
By Neta Shikoba URL on 05.06.2013
Wonderful, magical actions expressed through the art of word, everything makes sense.
By mary on 05.06.2013
I love it when you tell me stories! And anything, really.
By Jason URL on 05.06.2013
I once made up a story about a pretend boyfriend. It was only a story for me but then I started telling others about it until I actually thought I had a real boyfriend. Moral of the story, stories are powerful!
By monique URL on 05.06.2013
I’ve told hundreds of stories
With just one word,
And told countless of pointless ramblings
I’d like to write more,
And I know I have time,
But maybe some things should end early.
By Siege URL on 05.06.2013
I have told stories since I was a little girl. Mostly true, but not always, stories can transport all of us to places that we need to be when the time is right. Stories are something I now see my four-year-old son depending upon as a basic form of entertainment and imagination, and they spark something in him that is primal and strong.
By Michelle Poppleton Chumsae URL on 05.06.2013
I’ve gotten this more than once, but the saying stays the same. Stories are just places where we want to be. They are beyond our reach and often fiction instead of fact. They fill the night with words of childlike wonder.
There are more stories to be told than I have time to tell them. A life so full, I almost don’t recall most of it. And yet so short, so fleeting, gone in a moment
By tonykeyesjapan URL on 05.06.2013
You used to tell me stories
‘Bout love and castles and royalty.
I don’t think I ever want to forget that,
Because those were your words.
By Juliet URL on 05.06.2013
I am always.and I mean,always,telling crappy stories
By A False Terl URL on 05.06.2013
I had a vague idea when I started today that I was going to be accruing stories to be telling the rest of the world for years. That I was going to become the cave painter, and leave my ideas behind the same way Hansel and Gretel left behind their breadcrumbs, for someone else to follow, for someone else to be curious about. Or maybe just for some bird to come by and eat, and then go home with a sever stomach ache wondering why pumpernickel always seems to do that to you…
By Lancir URL on 05.06.2013
I think that older people have a lot to share. I want to sit and drink a cup of tea with a widow and hear her stories. I want her to remember them for me. Has she ever burned a dinner so badly that she never forgot it? What was her most memorable vacation? I think the best way to learn is by hearing someone else’s stories.
By L. Baumbach URL on 05.06.2013
campfire, fire, people, life, experiences, funny, sad, happy, wisdom, bedtime, mama, childhood, books, movies, gossip, drama, interesting, entertaining
By Gemma Bonfiglioli URL on 05.06.2013
As we stood in the audience, listening to the horrible speech, the screams of the people echoing through the rooms, I felt the stories dance around me. Murders, genocides, loss, pain, rebounding around. It jabbed at my skin, making my arms prickle, tears threatening to fall, pictures of mothers being ripped from their children and of fathers leaving their families behind, of children being tortured, of women being raped, of men being stabbed, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I left.
By redpinkandwhite URL on 05.06.2013
you hear something from one person that they’ve heard from someone else. they come and go, but oh how very nice they are. to hear about a fantasy when all you are in is reality. but in the end we’re all just stories. thats all thats left of us
By linda on 05.06.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.