Story

When stories are told and tales are made up, you think of great heroes, random loot and epic adventures. Well see here’s the great ordeal we run into with those stories. They are so damn boring! You can always guess what will happen in the end. Not to mention the heroes always win with impossible odds! You essentially waste your time listening to some want-to-be story teller and their made up shenanigans. You must be thinking “what is this old drunk fool blabbing about this time?” Well! Unlike those

and problems would ever cross her path. That for the first time in her life she would be alone. Aria never thought she would have to leave everything she had known behind just to not only survive, but to thrive in the New World that she had heard stories about. After everything, she could say that she had been through and done all of these things. All with the help of an extraordinary baby boy. She had a feeling though, a hopeful but, bad feeling. She looked into Marco’s eyes and everything became

four-year-old found the key and asked for the story behind it. So told it to him. When I noticed it was missing from the bookshelf, I asked him if he had touched it. Quite proudly he told he me he had hid it in the box Daddy took away that morning. I have to find that key.” Zoe shook a sheer blouse more than she had to for the key couldn’t be there. Kevin shook out some shapeless knitting that he wasn’t sure was clothes or a tent. “May I hear the story?” He asked. “My great grandfather came to

This story is significant because it shows how the african tribes choose their own over all the money and or power they could have, but would prefer to protect their own. This is a story about a boy who gets hit by a very venomous snake and this snake shoots the venom into the eyes of the little white boy. This snake will blind you and there was no cure for it. But this little black boy who had grown up with the white boy. There are many messages in this short story but the three main ones are money

I have been informed that I should share this story. However, I will do so a little out of the norm as I thought this little allegory could use a change of pace. So in the meantime Let’s cut to the chase And I’ll share this tale, with only a few rhymes. Who am I you may ask? Why, I am your humble storyteller One that has been entrusted with this task. Just someone sharing a story in this snowy weather. However, if I must give myself a name You may call me Mr.X. Yes, I’m aware of this strange

The story is set in the town of Lawless, Illinois during Prohibition era, where brewed liquor dominates the black market. Angelo Lagusa, a young man whose family was murdered in a mafia dispute, seeks revenge against the Vanetti Family and its don, Vincent Vanetti. Seven years after the murder, Angelo receives an anonymous letter from a self-proclaimed friend of his father's, prompting him to return to Lawless and exact his revenge. Using the alias Avilio Bruno, he infiltrates the Vanetti Family

Imagine a world without stories, nothing to read, nothing to learn, and right now you know nothing. In the story “How Stories Came to Earth” that was exactly their problem. A long time ago there were no stories on earth for anyone to tell before the First Spider, Kwaku Anansi came along and spread them through his webs. Both “How Stories Came to Earth” and “Master Cat” are trickster tales, In mythology, and in the study of folklore and religion, a trickster is a character in a story, which exhibits a great

“There once was a story told a long, long time ago, about the haunted mill.” said the man with the big black hat on his head. My twin brother and I wondered what the rest of the story was so we asked the perplexed man. “Oh I don't know if I should tell you that.” said the mysterious man. We just looked at the man and wondered why he couldn't tell us. We wondered and wondered what that strange story was, we were not giving up until we found out the story. So once we got away from that strange man

“Would you like to hear a story?” “Granny, I’m too old for that.” “My child, you're never too old for a good story.” The girl squeamishly crawled into bed, knowing she wouldn’t win this battle. A harsh wind wales outside, whipping the fallen snow into devil whirls. “What kind though? Perhaps A tale of the frost witch? Asked her grandmother. “No, not her.” “what about a story of Bjorn.” The girl agreed and the old woman grinned. “Ah, there are so many to choose from. My grandmother used to tell

life isn't fair and c'est la vie ; so when "Life" happened to me, I never made it my business to tell my story; to seek help ,attention , or love because of my circumstances. I simply rolled with the punches and never let the outside world see me sweat. Instead I would come home and write; write my thoughts , fears, desires , goals , and regrets. I will admit when I saw the option to tell MY STORY, I could only think of the one I never told before. You see; I've always been the type to speak nothing