The Beauty Of My Life

Storytelling is something we all do naturally. It is an innate ability that has been practiced since the dawn of civilization. Stories can be told through literature, visuals, performances, or word of mouth. As time elapses, the way in which we tell stories involves. Although, the way in which we tell stories change, the essence of them remain by incorporating the basic elements of good storytelling.

On a Saturday morning, James brown was reading his favorite book as usual, the bird in front of his house squeezing. He read on every saturday and sunday to get some relief from work and all the stress that built up over time. He was really into reading his book, but after a while of reading, James stand next to the window and listen to the rain pouring into the small pound. The rain was getting stronger and stronger as Mrs.Brown got a little scare. She was screaming very loud, the wind blow harder, hat on the resident of Kansas City blow off as if someone smack it off there head. Mrs. Brown was crying because it was rain really hard and there was lighting. James went to his wife and comfort her by humming.

A good looking man in an expensive suite walks past a woman on the subway whistling a catchy tune. Many thoughts begin to run through her head, “He’s an important business man on his way to his next meeting.” Or “He’s a father on the way home from work.” As he stops she watches him read a news paper thinking how attractive and self composed he is. In the back of her head she’s wishing that he would speak to her. As she sits and hopes it seems that her wish is going to be answered. The young, attractive gentleman gets up and strides over taking the seat next to her. He introduces himself as Mr. Cromer and engages her in a charming conversation, sweeping her off her feet. In her head everything is going great, she has met the perfect man,

“Who is he? Who are you?” Her words shot at me like daggers. Each question made me step back.

"In this very room I don't know how long ago I met a girl. I like to pretend that I fell in love with her." He allowed himself to admit something darker in

One morning in autumn, as usual Mary with his father went to the market to sell the vegetables. Sadly, that was the most deficit day that they had suffered. The market wasn’t as crowded as usual. However, there was a man came over her, wearing black coat, hat and sunglasses. Mary saw through his sunglasses, a sharp eyes completed his white skin and pointed nose, which made him look handsome in her eyes. He talked to her in a friendly manner, “Good day, my lady. I thought I just saw something shining over here, but it was you. You are so beautiful.”

Here was a young girl who was every inkling a gorgeous vixen and he had noticed her the first day that she stepped into class. Every inch of her was perfection, so perhaps in a way it was nice to see her nervous and to see her as another human being who was a bit caught up in her own world and life. Everyone had problems and most people didn't recognize that others struggled just as much as they did. It was good to break past that barrier and see her for herself and he gave her a commiserating smile in the process. His voice was low and thoughtful, the studied practice which had led him to be such a pleasing teacher for more than just his

Many people tell stories to inform others about themselves. Throughout my life people in my family have told me many stories, and behind each story there is a purpose. The stories I was told growing up were about experiences that people in my family have had or things that I have done. These stories mean a lot to me because through these stories different family members reveal many things about themselves. They want me to understand their ideas, beliefs, or feelings about a certain subject. They want people to praise or admire what they have done or accomplished. Funny stories are told to humor or embarrass someone, usually me. Other stories express that we are not alone in the world, and there are other people,

An elderly woman, sigh out a puff of smoke and reach for her glass of cool sweat ice tea, you know the kind I'm talking about. It's so sweet that its almost guaranteed to make a non-diabetic go into shock. Yes, that kind of sweet tea. It was a balmy outside, and you could hear the crickets chirp their songs and lighting bugs start their dusk dance in time with the sound coming from the women rocking in her chair. She pulled another drag from her cigarette and sighed again as if fortifying herself for the story she was about to tell her eighteen-year-old son, he was freshly shaven and preparing to go off to college. Go off to bigger, better things. But before that, he wanted no needed to know. Know why his mama never kept a guy long, why the women in town whispered about her as they walked by or why his teacher gave him pitying looks every time she came for a meeting or school event. So as a last request, while sitting on the porch and looking out into the woods as per their traditional evening activity, he asked again.

They way stories are told may morph, but never will storytelling cease. From their people skills to their memories, there is no argument that storytellers possess boundless talent and intelligence. They were the first educators. And now, storytelling is a large part of everyday life. The news in the morning, the gossip throughout the day, the casual response to the casual “What’s up?” – It’s all a form of storytelling. Our lives are steeped in it. In almost every conversation a story is told. At every turn a story is born. So we all are storytellers, and the world is our audience, just waiting to hear the gospel leave our

A Story is a creation of a creative and imaginative mind. Whatever kind of story it may be it takes a big deal of creativity to come up with an intriguing story that keeps the reader as well as listener interested in the story. Stories have been one of the oldest means of entertainment in our society. Everyone in their childhood has asked their parents to tell them a story at one point or another in their lives. The reason behind this is that stories captivate our mind and make us think what we would have done if we were in the shoes of characters in the story.

“Yes.” she answered blankly. At first sight, the man standing in front of her wasn’t impressive, nor a surprise.

As I walked into freshman year I was by no means expecting to lose connection with myself on the way. I recall walking home after long days at school, absorbing my surroundings. Breathing in the sweet air as the calm breeze hit my face. Thinking to myself that this walk home was the only time I have anymore to just think and be myself. See I'm the type of person to go outside spending hours sitting, doing absolutely nothing. Just to assimilate the beauty of life. Time, space, me, my spirit, and my thoughts. At this moment there is no stress about the demand of getting excessive amounts of work done and memorizing notes for the next text. Having six-hour days to come home, sit down again, and have my head sink into the endless pages of

I remember looking through the glossy window. The rays of light shining on my face, warming and illuminating every speck on my skin. Glancing down at the puffy white clouds and thinking ‘This is it in just a few minutes i’ll be home.’ Green. Green. That was all i could see the planes every different shade of the verdurous colour one could ever imagine. The anticipation was killing me. Literally. Who knew that in just a few minutes i would be comforted by those warm hugs and those sweet kisses from the ones i adored...my family, my home.

Few things are capable of making me feel beautiful, and that along with finding a sense of my self-worth have been a struggle of mine for the majority of my life. There have been many trials and errors, but feeling beautiful and finding my self-worth have been beginning to clear up. This was when I met my fiancé, my best friend and soul mate, Jacob. Meeting Jacob, going to college, and furthering my life with him have helped me experience gain my self-worth over time.