A tale is a story. Some people have a gift for telling stories. This is a good way to pass down incidents and anecdotes to family members. A way to keep an oral history of family affairs.
Kann ich nicht erzählen. Kann ich nicht erzählen. Kann ich nicht erzählen.
Also gut.
Es war einmal.
Und wenn ich nicht gestorben bin, erzähle ich immer noch.
there was an old piece of dduk. it had seen its glory days of soft puffy sweetness, melt-in-your-mouth goodness, but now it was confined to the unflinching cold of the freezer.
GOD, it’s all well and good, but it sure as shit doesn’t prepare us for what’s really waiting out there.
It sure as shit doesn’t give us our prince charming or our 3 wishes or nothing.
It sure as shit isn’t a warning or a heads up for what’s coming our way.
We’re just stuck here.
In a tale, yea.
In our tale.
tall tale, whale tale, mean tale, cursed tale. I Curse the tale that ended with the juice to set a city on fire. polluted tongues propaganda and the way ward mansion of lies thAT says otherwise I don’t wish to partake in this.
a story made up of truths and perhaps lies for all to enjoy.
Usually with a moral meaning.
Some told by those much older some made for children to rnjoy and remember throughout their lives.
Tales bring parents and children together
There is nothing in fiction that is no more than a tale; that is its greatest strength. Fiction creates tales that can take the reader anywhere and any time in history. It is sad when people realise that tales are just lies made up to amuse.
Tell me a tale, Daddy. I wanna hear a story!
Once upon a time…
No no no! That’s boring Daddy! Start it more exciting! Like, There once was a beautiful princess named Maddie!
There once was a beautiful princess named Maddie who had a handsome prince wrapped around her finger.
Who was the prince Daddy?
Me.
one day there was a man who didnt like cheese. this was a struggle to him because where he lived and grew up, cheese was everywhere. im guessing this is why he has hated cheese from day one, could you stand to be around cheese and eat it to? i know i could
He pulled the sheets tight around his body and settled into bed.
“I’m wating!” he called out.
Finally, in walked his father, tie slightly undone, a few books in his hands. Which one would he hear tonight on his way to his dreams?
stories never do justice. tall tales- thats the only way. how do you convey the information that people lack by not being there. the experiential data. over embellishing. to say that exaggeration breeds inaccuracy is rather cynical; in fact, it often brings the balance.
There once was a tale of a boy and a girl, who met on a normal evening. He looked straight into her eyes, and knew instantly that there was magic. From there on they have been inseparable since.
One upon a time, there was a girl who told a great tale to her friends. About water falls, and mystic creatures no one had ever heard of. Her friends didn’t believe her, but they listened.
i once heard that if you climbed on top of the hill and set there staring at the sun as it goes down over the ponderosas, that you’d hear, just as the night went on you’d hear the sound of a bellowing cow, for real
Christina had been dancing at the Pink Marshmallow Hut for five years now. She had been dreaming of becoming a professional ballerina for some time, but had never plucked up the courage to quit her job and pursue her dream. She grabbed the pole on the bar and hauled herself up with a deep sigh.
i am going to tell you a tale about a dog and a cat. the dog was sitting in the car when the cat came in. they became good friends and since then you couldnt sepearte them.
I don’t always believe me when you talk about giants and monsters and impossible love stories and funny happenstances and the coincidences that rule our lives. I hate the stochasticity of my every day. I don’t always believe you when you tell me that it all makes sense, that there’s a purpose, but I do believe you when you say that we’ll be happy, that we’ll love each other, that forever is well within our reach. And a part of me wants to be jaded and worldly and cynical, but we both know that I do believe you when you say “happily ever after.”
fairy tales. disneyland princesses. a story for kids to make then feel better about themselves. it usually involves some kind of prince saving the princess. and the princess comes from a poor family, while her prince is some super rich guy.
this is a tale of a mouse with a tail. i am really lame for writing that because they are both tail\tail. i dont know. i actually hate mice. wow i cant write a tale. once upon a time there was a frog and a princess who totally like got married and had babys and lived happily ever after because they were super cool. the end. wow that was a terrible tale. i keep coming back to that stupid original word. tale. why did thety have to give me such a stupid word. there is so many words i would prefer to have than the stupid word tale. tale is for nazis you know? ok no its not im just being super dumb. why is there a b in the word dumb. its so stupid. i dont know english has a lot of stupid parts in its language. like the word tale. gah. i do wenjoy bacon. it is quite succulent. i could tell you a tale about how awesome bacon is. there once was a lord of bacon and his name was eranimus. everyday he would beat small children to death with struips of bacon. everyone hated him. then chuck norris killed him. so it goes. god vonneguts been getting into my head. bleh
Tales are body parts usually on animals. Lots of different types of species have tales. Humans do not (normally). They can be long, or short or big or small. Furry or not. Monkeys hang from their tails. Some humans are born with tails.
She wove a tale of love and loss, without a word she wrote a novel, capturing the hearts of all who saw her; hypnotizing them with her graceful movements and the stars in her hair.
It was woven like a quilt, all golden and red.”It was a beautiful tale”, she thought, “but nothing more.” He had sad eyes, but nothing more. There was nothing more.
My friend once told me a story not to long ago about a man who walked 30 miles in the rain to get his son a blanket, and I said, “that’s BS.” I just don’t think a blanket would put up with all that rain.
It is a tale of things that happened long ago. So long ago, no one quite remembers everything. It has been passed down for generations, added to and modified, so little of the original remains. But sit back and listen, child, and I will tell you what I know. You will have to decide for yourself what is truth.
“What will we tell them?” asked Kanzi. “I guess…that it was all a lie. There is no evil thing.” replied Julian. “But there is! We can’t just lie for the sake of Sophie’s well-being.” Julian looked at me with my sad truth reflected in his eyes.
Her blue eyes were wide in amazement as I closed the book and sat it down on the table beside her bed.
“What did you think?” I asked, referring to the tale I’d just read to her.
“It was amazing….”
listening to the tale that was woven by the man who seem to have nothing better to do than evoke paranoia and fear into the hearts of others i realize life is just a tale it self
She rips at the sparkly tulle, pulls at it until it rips completely off and the black is visible, and she throws it at the spiders hanging off the trees, spiders pretending to be leaves, hoping she’ll walk into their webs so that they may hang her and tickle her face with their legs until her prince comes to end the fairy tale. But she knows better, and ends it herself, turns around and screams at them to find a new princess to trap.
A tale is a story. Some people have a gift for telling stories. This is a good way to pass down incidents and anecdotes to family members. A way to keep an oral history of family affairs.
Kann ich nicht erzählen. Kann ich nicht erzählen. Kann ich nicht erzählen.
Also gut.
Es war einmal.
Und wenn ich nicht gestorben bin, erzähle ich immer noch.
there was an old piece of dduk. it had seen its glory days of soft puffy sweetness, melt-in-your-mouth goodness, but now it was confined to the unflinching cold of the freezer.
Fairytales.
That’s what I think of.
And really? I mean, really?
GOD, it’s all well and good, but it sure as shit doesn’t prepare us for what’s really waiting out there.
It sure as shit doesn’t give us our prince charming or our 3 wishes or nothing.
It sure as shit isn’t a warning or a heads up for what’s coming our way.
We’re just stuck here.
In a tale, yea.
In our tale.
Tale that twists a thousand time
Song that changes with every rhyme
Move me, heal me in way of light
O healing tale take me from night
I didn’t believe it. Not for a second. The old man told it with style and panache, and it was as entertaining as could be. But it was pure fiction.
tall tale, whale tale, mean tale, cursed tale. I Curse the tale that ended with the juice to set a city on fire. polluted tongues propaganda and the way ward mansion of lies thAT says otherwise I don’t wish to partake in this.
a story made up of truths and perhaps lies for all to enjoy.
Usually with a moral meaning.
Some told by those much older some made for children to rnjoy and remember throughout their lives.
Tales bring parents and children together
The tale was enhanced by the consumption of much ale, spiced with a bit of lemon to sour its finish.
There is nothing in fiction that is no more than a tale; that is its greatest strength. Fiction creates tales that can take the reader anywhere and any time in history. It is sad when people realise that tales are just lies made up to amuse.
To tell a tale, a tale of tails, tales and tails; tall tales, tilt tales, Tony tales, telling totally terrific tales. To tell a tale of tomfoolery!
There once was a lovely little girl. She loved horses and pink and wore pigtails. Then one day she spontaneously combusted. The end.
Tell me a tale, Daddy. I wanna hear a story!
Once upon a time…
No no no! That’s boring Daddy! Start it more exciting! Like, There once was a beautiful princess named Maddie!
There once was a beautiful princess named Maddie who had a handsome prince wrapped around her finger.
Who was the prince Daddy?
Me.
i’m writing my own fairytale so don’t you even try to stop me, or u’ll find out whoi am.
one day there was a man who didnt like cheese. this was a struggle to him because where he lived and grew up, cheese was everywhere. im guessing this is why he has hated cheese from day one, could you stand to be around cheese and eat it to? i know i could
He pulled the sheets tight around his body and settled into bed.
“I’m wating!” he called out.
Finally, in walked his father, tie slightly undone, a few books in his hands. Which one would he hear tonight on his way to his dreams?
stories never do justice. tall tales- thats the only way. how do you convey the information that people lack by not being there. the experiential data. over embellishing. to say that exaggeration breeds inaccuracy is rather cynical; in fact, it often brings the balance.
The tale went on and on.
The children gaped.
There once was a tale of a boy and a girl, who met on a normal evening. He looked straight into her eyes, and knew instantly that there was magic. From there on they have been inseparable since.
One upon a time, there was a girl who told a great tale to her friends. About water falls, and mystic creatures no one had ever heard of. Her friends didn’t believe her, but they listened.
i once heard that if you climbed on top of the hill and set there staring at the sun as it goes down over the ponderosas, that you’d hear, just as the night went on you’d hear the sound of a bellowing cow, for real
Christina had been dancing at the Pink Marshmallow Hut for five years now. She had been dreaming of becoming a professional ballerina for some time, but had never plucked up the courage to quit her job and pursue her dream. She grabbed the pole on the bar and hauled herself up with a deep sigh.
i am going to tell you a tale about a dog and a cat. the dog was sitting in the car when the cat came in. they became good friends and since then you couldnt sepearte them.
I don’t always believe me when you talk about giants and monsters and impossible love stories and funny happenstances and the coincidences that rule our lives. I hate the stochasticity of my every day. I don’t always believe you when you tell me that it all makes sense, that there’s a purpose, but I do believe you when you say that we’ll be happy, that we’ll love each other, that forever is well within our reach. And a part of me wants to be jaded and worldly and cynical, but we both know that I do believe you when you say “happily ever after.”
fairy tales. disneyland princesses. a story for kids to make then feel better about themselves. it usually involves some kind of prince saving the princess. and the princess comes from a poor family, while her prince is some super rich guy.
this is a tale of a mouse with a tail. i am really lame for writing that because they are both tail\tail. i dont know. i actually hate mice. wow i cant write a tale. once upon a time there was a frog and a princess who totally like got married and had babys and lived happily ever after because they were super cool. the end. wow that was a terrible tale. i keep coming back to that stupid original word. tale. why did thety have to give me such a stupid word. there is so many words i would prefer to have than the stupid word tale. tale is for nazis you know? ok no its not im just being super dumb. why is there a b in the word dumb. its so stupid. i dont know english has a lot of stupid parts in its language. like the word tale. gah. i do wenjoy bacon. it is quite succulent. i could tell you a tale about how awesome bacon is. there once was a lord of bacon and his name was eranimus. everyday he would beat small children to death with struips of bacon. everyone hated him. then chuck norris killed him. so it goes. god vonneguts been getting into my head. bleh
We all have tales. Tall ones, short ones, false ones, long ones. Essential ones, true ones. They’re all we have.
Tales are body parts usually on animals. Lots of different types of species have tales. Humans do not (normally). They can be long, or short or big or small. Furry or not. Monkeys hang from their tails. Some humans are born with tails.
I once was a friend to many.. I thought about it often. sometimes life is just so silly,you know, really silly
She wove a tale of love and loss, without a word she wrote a novel, capturing the hearts of all who saw her; hypnotizing them with her graceful movements and the stars in her hair.
It was woven like a quilt, all golden and red.”It was a beautiful tale”, she thought, “but nothing more.” He had sad eyes, but nothing more. There was nothing more.
My friend once told me a story not to long ago about a man who walked 30 miles in the rain to get his son a blanket, and I said, “that’s BS.” I just don’t think a blanket would put up with all that rain.
It is a tale of things that happened long ago. So long ago, no one quite remembers everything. It has been passed down for generations, added to and modified, so little of the original remains. But sit back and listen, child, and I will tell you what I know. You will have to decide for yourself what is truth.
A long time ago there was a tale. A tale of soft words spoken in many flavors over long nights with sweet sparkles from lightning bugs’ asses.
Oh do I have a tale.
Of love.
Profound hurt.
True forgiveness.
And dreams knowing no bounds.
It is my tale and I am living it day by day.
“What will we tell them?” asked Kanzi. “I guess…that it was all a lie. There is no evil thing.” replied Julian. “But there is! We can’t just lie for the sake of Sophie’s well-being.” Julian looked at me with my sad truth reflected in his eyes.
Tall tale boy, he is. Hears the truth about me and can’t resist talking himself up.
Not to mention, he’s also rather tall.
Her blue eyes were wide in amazement as I closed the book and sat it down on the table beside her bed.
“What did you think?” I asked, referring to the tale I’d just read to her.
“It was amazing….”
listening to the tale that was woven by the man who seem to have nothing better to do than evoke paranoia and fear into the hearts of others i realize life is just a tale it self
She rips at the sparkly tulle, pulls at it until it rips completely off and the black is visible, and she throws it at the spiders hanging off the trees, spiders pretending to be leaves, hoping she’ll walk into their webs so that they may hang her and tickle her face with their legs until her prince comes to end the fairy tale. But she knows better, and ends it herself, turns around and screams at them to find a new princess to trap.