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any good storytellers here?
- Thread starter flex123
- Start date
My info:
When I was a child I use to goto my aunts house for christmas. I was the youngest child there and all my mothers cousins didn't have any children yet, so being one of the youngest children I would get so much attention and I enjoyed Christmas more than anything. Now being older and all the cousins beingmuch old things are different. I still goto my aunts for Christmas and this is the time when my own memories come back of me playing in the living room with my toys from chiristmas. The reason I get these memories is because all the cousins now have there own children that are still young. So I see these children playing in the living room surronded by all the presents while everyone is taking pictures and they seem to be having the time of there life. This is when I realize that being a young child on christmas has to be one of the happiest times that a child ever experiences.
----I can't really write, I am bad a descriptives and addative statements/sentences to spice up stories. If anyone could help me write this and make it into a 5 min. speech to present to my class I would appreciate it. I'll multi karma your ass for weeks straight also(its the only thing I could really offer)
When I was a child I use to goto my aunts house for christmas. I was the youngest child there and all my mothers cousins didn't have any children yet, so being one of the youngest children I would get so much attention and I enjoyed Christmas more than anything. Now being older and all the cousins beingmuch old things are different. I still goto my aunts for Christmas and this is the time when my own memories come back of me playing in the living room with my toys from chiristmas. The reason I get these memories is because all the cousins now have there own children that are still young. So I see these children playing in the living room surronded by all the presents while everyone is taking pictures and they seem to be having the time of there life. This is when I realize that being a young child on christmas has to be one of the happiest times that a child ever experiences.
----I can't really write, I am bad a descriptives and addative statements/sentences to spice up stories. If anyone could help me write this and make it into a 5 min. speech to present to my class I would appreciate it. I'll multi karma your ass for weeks straight also(its the only thing I could really offer)
Puc
Banned
a) how old are you
b) what were your favorite toys?
c) what were the names of the relatives in question (the names you would call them by, nicknames, etc.)
c) what economic class were you? what was the house like?
the key to telling a good story is the level of detail and pace of the narrative... need more details.
b) what were your favorite toys?
c) what were the names of the relatives in question (the names you would call them by, nicknames, etc.)
c) what economic class were you? what was the house like?
the key to telling a good story is the level of detail and pace of the narrative... need more details.
Nathan
New member
When I was but a boy, a wee wipper snapper if you will, I used to wait in anticipation for Christmas morning all year long. My warmest memories are of my family and I basking in each other's happiness and love on that Holiest of days. It was a care-free time for the lot of us, all our worries melted away into nothing, being replaced by pleasing thoughts of the festivities to come.
I remember being surrounded by my aunts and uncles, my parents and grandparents, my cousins and friends when I gleefully tore open my gifts. I now know that as one ages, it becomes less about the receiving of gifts and more about the giving. Today, I am the older cousin looking down upon the young members of my family as their joyous faces light up when they see that action figure they had been craving, or that nail polish their parents pretended they disapproved of.
***Cue dramatic music.***
Christmas really is a magical time for us all. It is a time to relish in the notion that there are plenty of people that love you, and plenty of people that you love in return.
***A single tear runs down your cheek.***
Nothing feels better than expressing that love and that, to me, is what is Christmas is all about.
Okay, something slong those lines anyways. I'm gonna go shoot myself now cause that was retarded but it seemed like what you were looking for. That's as mushy as I get. That okay? Can I be more cynical?
I remember being surrounded by my aunts and uncles, my parents and grandparents, my cousins and friends when I gleefully tore open my gifts. I now know that as one ages, it becomes less about the receiving of gifts and more about the giving. Today, I am the older cousin looking down upon the young members of my family as their joyous faces light up when they see that action figure they had been craving, or that nail polish their parents pretended they disapproved of.
***Cue dramatic music.***
Christmas really is a magical time for us all. It is a time to relish in the notion that there are plenty of people that love you, and plenty of people that you love in return.
***A single tear runs down your cheek.***
Nothing feels better than expressing that love and that, to me, is what is Christmas is all about.
Okay, something slong those lines anyways. I'm gonna go shoot myself now cause that was retarded but it seemed like what you were looking for. That's as mushy as I get. That okay? Can I be more cynical?
Puc said:
a)21 now, was 10- then I guess
b)I got this remote control Morotcycle with the wire, it was great
c)my aunt adda, uncle jim,, cousin danny and other cousins
c)I guess middle class when I was younger, but now my cousins are in the financial feild(VP of Credit Suisse ect...)
hows this?
I can remember sitting in a room full of noise and surrounded by people all dressed up, as I sat on the center floor of the room.
Everyone stands around me smiling while some take pictures. While I remember sitting on the floor I keep getting handed boxes and after I open one another is handed to me. Every box I open I find something to play with.
This memory is how I remember every Christmas at my aunts house for Christmas.
When I was a child I use to go to my aunts house for Christmas. I was the youngest child there and all my mothers’ cousins didn't have any children yet, so being one of the youngest children I would get so much attention and I enjoyed Christmas more than anything. Now being older and all the cousins being much old things are different. I still go to my aunts for Christmas and this is the time when my own memories come back of me playing in the living room with my toys from Christmas. The reason I get these memories is because all the cousins now have there own children that are still young. So I see these children playing in the living room surrounded by all the presents while everyone is taking pictures and they seem to be having the time of there life. This is when I realize that being a young child on Christmas has to be one of the happiest times that a child ever experiences.
I can remember sitting in a room full of noise and surrounded by people all dressed up, as I sat on the center floor of the room.
Everyone stands around me smiling while some take pictures. While I remember sitting on the floor I keep getting handed boxes and after I open one another is handed to me. Every box I open I find something to play with.
This memory is how I remember every Christmas at my aunts house for Christmas.
When I was a child I use to go to my aunts house for Christmas. I was the youngest child there and all my mothers’ cousins didn't have any children yet, so being one of the youngest children I would get so much attention and I enjoyed Christmas more than anything. Now being older and all the cousins being much old things are different. I still go to my aunts for Christmas and this is the time when my own memories come back of me playing in the living room with my toys from Christmas. The reason I get these memories is because all the cousins now have there own children that are still young. So I see these children playing in the living room surrounded by all the presents while everyone is taking pictures and they seem to be having the time of there life. This is when I realize that being a young child on Christmas has to be one of the happiest times that a child ever experiences.
SofaGeorge
New member
My Road to Becoming a Serial Killer
By Flex123
Some might call it a drawn hand. It was my own hand, but so often it looked foriegn to me. Even as a child I can recall looking at it, seeing the gauntness and stretched veins. It looked like a withered ancient thing grafted upon my young arm.
I remember looking at it as a young boy. It was Christmas time. I was at my grandmothers. She had an old house, built some time in the 1800s - one of those homes with cold stone rooms but each room has a fireplace. It was winter time and a fire was just starting to crackle to a sharp light. The Christmas tree was near the fireplace and the waltzing light glimmered off one sprkly red Christmas bulb that hung as a lonely ornament upon the fireplace.
There is something foolish in a child, something that makes you pluck up things you are supposed to leave still. I picked up the bulb off the fireplace and turned it bach and forth, watching the red light sparkle off the wall as I held it in my craggy hand.
That's when my grandmother saw me.
"Put that down!" she shrieked. She flew across the room, clapping he hard on the head with her hand.
I tried to protest no no no. The words and the light swirled around me as I fended off her many many blows. "Put it down." she screamed again. "I told you never to touch my things."
I clung to the bulb, afraid to let it go while I tried to defend myself, and then I felt the shatter, the sharp shards, and the warm blood building in my palm.
"You've broken it." she gasped. She stepped back as though in shock that the bulb had broken. It was as though she had completely forgotten her assault on me.
I dropped the broken shards on the ground and she bent down, picking them up and putting the pieces in her apron.
"No harm done. No harm done." She said over and over, trying to convince herself.
It was then I saw the heavy poker left leaning against the fireplace. Her back was too me. I picked it up in my ancient withered hand, knowing now for the first time why I had my deformity.
I raised the poker high and with the ancient hand of wisdom and justice I brought the heavy iron down across her head...
By Flex123
Some might call it a drawn hand. It was my own hand, but so often it looked foriegn to me. Even as a child I can recall looking at it, seeing the gauntness and stretched veins. It looked like a withered ancient thing grafted upon my young arm.
I remember looking at it as a young boy. It was Christmas time. I was at my grandmothers. She had an old house, built some time in the 1800s - one of those homes with cold stone rooms but each room has a fireplace. It was winter time and a fire was just starting to crackle to a sharp light. The Christmas tree was near the fireplace and the waltzing light glimmered off one sprkly red Christmas bulb that hung as a lonely ornament upon the fireplace.
There is something foolish in a child, something that makes you pluck up things you are supposed to leave still. I picked up the bulb off the fireplace and turned it bach and forth, watching the red light sparkle off the wall as I held it in my craggy hand.
That's when my grandmother saw me.
"Put that down!" she shrieked. She flew across the room, clapping he hard on the head with her hand.
I tried to protest no no no. The words and the light swirled around me as I fended off her many many blows. "Put it down." she screamed again. "I told you never to touch my things."
I clung to the bulb, afraid to let it go while I tried to defend myself, and then I felt the shatter, the sharp shards, and the warm blood building in my palm.
"You've broken it." she gasped. She stepped back as though in shock that the bulb had broken. It was as though she had completely forgotten her assault on me.
I dropped the broken shards on the ground and she bent down, picking them up and putting the pieces in her apron.
"No harm done. No harm done." She said over and over, trying to convince herself.
It was then I saw the heavy poker left leaning against the fireplace. Her back was too me. I picked it up in my ancient withered hand, knowing now for the first time why I had my deformity.
I raised the poker high and with the ancient hand of wisdom and justice I brought the heavy iron down across her head...
SofaGeorge
New member
flex123 said:
That was an awasome story but I don't think I can use that one.. Its way behond my other speechs
If you need me to I can add a couple more paragraphs about you burying her body and getting all sentimental and stuff.
If it would do you any good...I will give you my home number and you can call me on Sunday evening...I will do all I can to help.
I have a little experience in the speaking field
B True
I have a little experience in the speaking field
B True
b fold the truth said:If it would do you any good...I will give you my home number and you can call me on Sunday evening...I will do all I can to help.
I have a little experience in the speaking field
B True
Thats great you offered...I should be ok...I just have to think creative
I'm going to be working on this all day probbly.B-fold if I get blocked and really have nothing I'll get ya #.
