Bon Jovi 'It's my Life'
Boy receives a call from his friend and he only has 5 minutes to rush over to the place she is at and overcome any obstacle.
For the Birds
A group of small birds on a wire meets a strange large bird, and after trying to get rid of him as they dislike him, they end up embarrassing themselves.
Flamingo Fantasia
A yoyo-obsessed flamingo tries to disrupt the other dancing flamingoes.
Snowman
A lonely snowman in a glass dome wishes to be outside together with the other toys and he tries many ways to escape; only to end up in a fish tank.
Dino Fart
3 creatures seated side by side started comparing farts and the Pig's fart turns out to be deadly and knocks the T-Rex out.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Story #3: A Second Chance
" A once famous scientist named Mr Sanders now spends his days locked up in his workshop with only his wife in his mind, trying to fix a wrong deed he made many many years ago. "
Sweat trickled down his throbbing temples. There was barely any ventilation in his workshop yet Mr Sanders remained here for many days in a row, only coming out to get some food, water or a trip to the bathroom. His house was a large white bungalow and seemed worlds away from the workshop he built next to it. Yes, he even slept in his workshop.
The workshop was old. Termites have made holes in the planks of wood used as walls, allowing little light to seep in. The smell of oil, metal and sweat thrived within these walls. Gears, screws and metal parts scattered on the floors; there was barely any place to walk . Pieces of random tattered paper were on pasted onto the walls with what seemed like blue prints of a large machine sketched with full details.
Every day for five decades, his neighbours would walk past and whisper stories to their friends about him.
“Oh, he was such a great and successful scientist.”
“Even the President often invited him to dinner!”
“What a waste he has turned into now. He’s gone mad!”
“Such a pity his late beloved wife died so young..”
Framed nicely in a porcelain picture frame with doves carved onto it, a portrait of a beautiful young red-haired lady smiling joyfully, rested at the corner of his desk away from all the messy papers. The frame was polished and cleaned every day, not letting a speck of dirt touch it.
“My darling Rose..”, muttered Mr Sanders gently as he held up the picture of her. His thumbs pressed against the cheeks of the pictured lady.
His hammer struck repeatedly hard onto the large metal structure just slightly taller than him. He had been working on this machine for ages. 50 years is a long time for many, but not for Mr Sanders. He was rushing against time. Before his life time is up. He soon dropped his tools and looked infront of him; his wrinkled gloomy face brightened up.
“Rose! It’s finally done!”, he exclaimed excitedly like a young child.
Mr Sanders grabbed a black marker and stood on a stool to write a barely legible ‘TIME MACHINE’ on the machine. He walked to his desk and picked up the pictureframe of Rose. His trembling fingers exhausted from continuous work for over 50 years, he opened the frame and held the her picture like it was the most delicate feather in the world and slid it into his front chest pocket, right in front of his heart.
He started mashing buttons on the machine wildly and mumbling to himself.
In a few seconds, the machine lit up and the screen started blinking. He proceeded in attempting to open the door-like mechanic next to the screen. As it creaked open, Mr Sanders peered inside and his eyes widened. He saw the view from outside his house, inside the portal. Except the house was in a much better state. Flowers in his front porch were in bloom and the colours beautified his home. Birds were chirping and the grass was as green as it could be.
This was it. This is the time before ‘it’ happened.
Mr Sanders stepped into the ‘portal’ and in a blink of an eye, he was back in his house as it was 50 years ago. He looked around. The smell of rose perfume filled his nose. A smell he missed.
“Gosh, honey. You’re still half-asleep?! I’m gonna rush to work now!”, a sweet feminine voice sounded from behind.
Turning around, Mr Sanders’s heart skipped a beat. It was her. His lovely Rose. As beautiful as ever. He rushed forward and hugged her tightly.
“I missed you so much..”
“What are you talking about, Howard? It’s been only 10minutes since I went to the bathroom!”
Mr Sanders looked at her and smiled. This is my chance to save her from her car accident.
“Let me send you to work.”, he said with a big grin. “Work can wait. Just for you.”
Rose first gave a confused expression, then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Suddenly he blacked out. The last image he remembered seeing was Rose smiling happily at him.
He opened his eyes to see himself back in his workshop. The portal was gone.
“PLEASE, WORK!”, he screamed, banging his fists violently on the machine.
The screen flickered and started showing images. He sees himself sending Rose off to the car and waving goodbye at each other. Then the camera follows Rose’s car. Rose was driving hastily while continuously checking her watch.
“I’m so late!”, she whined and started speeding up. Rose was always a person that panics in times of stress, thus she always made rash decisions when she’s in a rush. As Rose turns the car into a juction, a large truck slams into her within seconds. Mr Sanders flinched.
There Rose was, looking up blankly. Blood dribbled down the sides of her lips. She lay motionless in her seat inside the smashed car.
Mr Sander’s hands caressed the glass screen, weeping quietly. He failed. He could not save her.
A sudden pain struck his heart. A heart attack.
The screen started replaying scenes from the day they first met in university. Their first kiss. Their wedding and Rose in the stunning white gown saying “I do” while gazing lovingly into his eyes. Mr Sanders smiled. He had the world given to him so early. He felt blessed to have had her.
A cold wind blew at his cheeks. A familiar voice whispered in his ears.
“Howard. I think it’s time to go, dear. “
As he starting gasping for air, his vision slowly faded to black . His hand prints dragged on the glass screen as he collapsed on the ground.
“Wait for me, my love.”
Sweat trickled down his throbbing temples. There was barely any ventilation in his workshop yet Mr Sanders remained here for many days in a row, only coming out to get some food, water or a trip to the bathroom. His house was a large white bungalow and seemed worlds away from the workshop he built next to it. Yes, he even slept in his workshop.
The workshop was old. Termites have made holes in the planks of wood used as walls, allowing little light to seep in. The smell of oil, metal and sweat thrived within these walls. Gears, screws and metal parts scattered on the floors; there was barely any place to walk . Pieces of random tattered paper were on pasted onto the walls with what seemed like blue prints of a large machine sketched with full details.
Every day for five decades, his neighbours would walk past and whisper stories to their friends about him.
“Oh, he was such a great and successful scientist.”
“Even the President often invited him to dinner!”
“What a waste he has turned into now. He’s gone mad!”
“Such a pity his late beloved wife died so young..”
Framed nicely in a porcelain picture frame with doves carved onto it, a portrait of a beautiful young red-haired lady smiling joyfully, rested at the corner of his desk away from all the messy papers. The frame was polished and cleaned every day, not letting a speck of dirt touch it.
“My darling Rose..”, muttered Mr Sanders gently as he held up the picture of her. His thumbs pressed against the cheeks of the pictured lady.
His hammer struck repeatedly hard onto the large metal structure just slightly taller than him. He had been working on this machine for ages. 50 years is a long time for many, but not for Mr Sanders. He was rushing against time. Before his life time is up. He soon dropped his tools and looked infront of him; his wrinkled gloomy face brightened up.
“Rose! It’s finally done!”, he exclaimed excitedly like a young child.
Mr Sanders grabbed a black marker and stood on a stool to write a barely legible ‘TIME MACHINE’ on the machine. He walked to his desk and picked up the pictureframe of Rose. His trembling fingers exhausted from continuous work for over 50 years, he opened the frame and held the her picture like it was the most delicate feather in the world and slid it into his front chest pocket, right in front of his heart.
He started mashing buttons on the machine wildly and mumbling to himself.
In a few seconds, the machine lit up and the screen started blinking. He proceeded in attempting to open the door-like mechanic next to the screen. As it creaked open, Mr Sanders peered inside and his eyes widened. He saw the view from outside his house, inside the portal. Except the house was in a much better state. Flowers in his front porch were in bloom and the colours beautified his home. Birds were chirping and the grass was as green as it could be.
This was it. This is the time before ‘it’ happened.
Mr Sanders stepped into the ‘portal’ and in a blink of an eye, he was back in his house as it was 50 years ago. He looked around. The smell of rose perfume filled his nose. A smell he missed.
“Gosh, honey. You’re still half-asleep?! I’m gonna rush to work now!”, a sweet feminine voice sounded from behind.
Turning around, Mr Sanders’s heart skipped a beat. It was her. His lovely Rose. As beautiful as ever. He rushed forward and hugged her tightly.
“I missed you so much..”
“What are you talking about, Howard? It’s been only 10minutes since I went to the bathroom!”
Mr Sanders looked at her and smiled. This is my chance to save her from her car accident.
“Let me send you to work.”, he said with a big grin. “Work can wait. Just for you.”
Rose first gave a confused expression, then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Suddenly he blacked out. The last image he remembered seeing was Rose smiling happily at him.
He opened his eyes to see himself back in his workshop. The portal was gone.
“PLEASE, WORK!”, he screamed, banging his fists violently on the machine.
The screen flickered and started showing images. He sees himself sending Rose off to the car and waving goodbye at each other. Then the camera follows Rose’s car. Rose was driving hastily while continuously checking her watch.
“I’m so late!”, she whined and started speeding up. Rose was always a person that panics in times of stress, thus she always made rash decisions when she’s in a rush. As Rose turns the car into a juction, a large truck slams into her within seconds. Mr Sanders flinched.
There Rose was, looking up blankly. Blood dribbled down the sides of her lips. She lay motionless in her seat inside the smashed car.
Mr Sander’s hands caressed the glass screen, weeping quietly. He failed. He could not save her.
A sudden pain struck his heart. A heart attack.
The screen started replaying scenes from the day they first met in university. Their first kiss. Their wedding and Rose in the stunning white gown saying “I do” while gazing lovingly into his eyes. Mr Sanders smiled. He had the world given to him so early. He felt blessed to have had her.
A cold wind blew at his cheeks. A familiar voice whispered in his ears.
“Howard. I think it’s time to go, dear. “
As he starting gasping for air, his vision slowly faded to black . His hand prints dragged on the glass screen as he collapsed on the ground.
“Wait for me, my love.”
Monday, August 22, 2011
Story #2: Somewhere only we know
“Do you really have to leave?”, Sarah asked with tears in her eyes.
“I have no choice, Sarah.”
Seeing her like that made me not want to ever leave her side. However, being able to study overseas with all expenses paid by the school was extremely rare. I had no choice. It was for me, my family, education, and future with her. Sure, we were 16 and many think we’re too young to make decisions. But I spent enough time with her to know that she’s the girl I wanted to marry.
We were always together since we were born. Our mothers were best friends and naturally they always wanted us to get married in the end anyway. From kindergarten playpens to high school, we were inseparable.
Every night since we were 13, we would stay out late at an old playground just a few blocks away from our houses. Rusty swings, the smell of trees and grass, having sand stuck on our skin and the tingly feeling of ants crawling up our arms were all the things we embraced as we spent hours just talking about our day. The large elephant designed slide had a small hidden space enough for 2 people to be in. Despite the small space, it was always cooling and comforting to be in. I always thought it was because the company I had every night.
It was the day before I had to take my flight to America. I bought ice cream for the both of us. Double scooped chocolate was our favourite and we never failed to share a cup together each day we had a bad day or had something bothering us. Sharing ice-cream was our way of sharing our problems when we just could not talk about it.
Her hands gripped onto mine so tightly that at times we could feel each other’s pulse. Thoughts raced through my mind. How is she going to go on without me? Is she going to find someone new? Will I be able to murder that person without getting arrested?
“Eric, I want you to help me with something. A last request before you leave.”, her doe-like hazel eyes gazed at me. I simply nodded, not knowing what to expect.
She brought me to our usual spot. Sarah was always the neatest person I know so I figured she’d clean up the place today. The sun was setting and we were given a wonderful painting of pastel colors in the sky.
“I want you to read this letter when you reach home. Remember to visit me.”, she said and placed a folded note in my hand. I could hear her voice crack as she tried not to cry.
I opened my arms and pulled her closer for a hug. The smell of cherry blossom in her long brown hair lingered in my nose. We spent hours cuddled up and cozy but soon I had to leave first as I had to prepare for my departure. Sarah insisted on staying so I kissed her and left.
I proceeded in opening the note immediately upon reaching home. Teardrops dribbled down my cheek and landed on the pink strawberry scented paper.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me back to the playground, only to discover I was too late.
The girl I wanted to marry lay motionless on the wooden floor. Her hair kept neatly behind her ears and eyes wide open. Scarlet red blood drenched her white dress and even seeped through every inch the wooden floors. Her wrists and abdomen were ravaged by her own insane slashing of a swiss army knife, The cuts were so deep that blood pooled up and continued trickling down her limbs. I held her in my arms, covered her body with my jacket and moved her away from the floors. I used my strength to open the wooden floors up and placed her fragile body inside. As I covered back the floors, I caught a glimpse of her pale face smiling up at me.
Years passed and indeed I became something I am proud of. I had a job that made it easy for me to retire at 40 if I ever wanted to and still have enough money for my luxuries. But every year I’d return to my hometown and squeeze under that large elephant shaped slide with a cup of double scooped chocolate icecream. I’d sleep on the floors comfortably as I could smell cherryblossom in the air and sometimes I’d feel her warmth. I’d also talk to her about what has been happening and before I fell asleep on the floors, I’d always hear her whispering ‘Goodnight.’.
Her note remains in my wallet till this very day. The strawberry scent never faded.
“ Dear Tommy,
When you read this I’ll be gone. But atleast I’d be with you always. I’ll be watching you from above(or below, teehee!) but I’m always in your heart.
Do me a favour and keep me nicely under our spot. I don’t like a messy place!
Be the best you can be and promise to always visit me. Remember that I don’t like chocolate chips in my ice cream!
Love, Sarah. ”
“I have no choice, Sarah.”
Seeing her like that made me not want to ever leave her side. However, being able to study overseas with all expenses paid by the school was extremely rare. I had no choice. It was for me, my family, education, and future with her. Sure, we were 16 and many think we’re too young to make decisions. But I spent enough time with her to know that she’s the girl I wanted to marry.
We were always together since we were born. Our mothers were best friends and naturally they always wanted us to get married in the end anyway. From kindergarten playpens to high school, we were inseparable.
Every night since we were 13, we would stay out late at an old playground just a few blocks away from our houses. Rusty swings, the smell of trees and grass, having sand stuck on our skin and the tingly feeling of ants crawling up our arms were all the things we embraced as we spent hours just talking about our day. The large elephant designed slide had a small hidden space enough for 2 people to be in. Despite the small space, it was always cooling and comforting to be in. I always thought it was because the company I had every night.
It was the day before I had to take my flight to America. I bought ice cream for the both of us. Double scooped chocolate was our favourite and we never failed to share a cup together each day we had a bad day or had something bothering us. Sharing ice-cream was our way of sharing our problems when we just could not talk about it.
Her hands gripped onto mine so tightly that at times we could feel each other’s pulse. Thoughts raced through my mind. How is she going to go on without me? Is she going to find someone new? Will I be able to murder that person without getting arrested?
“Eric, I want you to help me with something. A last request before you leave.”, her doe-like hazel eyes gazed at me. I simply nodded, not knowing what to expect.
She brought me to our usual spot. Sarah was always the neatest person I know so I figured she’d clean up the place today. The sun was setting and we were given a wonderful painting of pastel colors in the sky.
“I want you to read this letter when you reach home. Remember to visit me.”, she said and placed a folded note in my hand. I could hear her voice crack as she tried not to cry.
I opened my arms and pulled her closer for a hug. The smell of cherry blossom in her long brown hair lingered in my nose. We spent hours cuddled up and cozy but soon I had to leave first as I had to prepare for my departure. Sarah insisted on staying so I kissed her and left.
I proceeded in opening the note immediately upon reaching home. Teardrops dribbled down my cheek and landed on the pink strawberry scented paper.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me back to the playground, only to discover I was too late.
The girl I wanted to marry lay motionless on the wooden floor. Her hair kept neatly behind her ears and eyes wide open. Scarlet red blood drenched her white dress and even seeped through every inch the wooden floors. Her wrists and abdomen were ravaged by her own insane slashing of a swiss army knife, The cuts were so deep that blood pooled up and continued trickling down her limbs. I held her in my arms, covered her body with my jacket and moved her away from the floors. I used my strength to open the wooden floors up and placed her fragile body inside. As I covered back the floors, I caught a glimpse of her pale face smiling up at me.
Years passed and indeed I became something I am proud of. I had a job that made it easy for me to retire at 40 if I ever wanted to and still have enough money for my luxuries. But every year I’d return to my hometown and squeeze under that large elephant shaped slide with a cup of double scooped chocolate icecream. I’d sleep on the floors comfortably as I could smell cherryblossom in the air and sometimes I’d feel her warmth. I’d also talk to her about what has been happening and before I fell asleep on the floors, I’d always hear her whispering ‘Goodnight.’.
Her note remains in my wallet till this very day. The strawberry scent never faded.
“ Dear Tommy,
When you read this I’ll be gone. But atleast I’d be with you always. I’ll be watching you from above(or below, teehee!) but I’m always in your heart.
Do me a favour and keep me nicely under our spot. I don’t like a messy place!
Be the best you can be and promise to always visit me. Remember that I don’t like chocolate chips in my ice cream!
Love, Sarah. ”
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Story #1: Control
She was an enigma. No one really understood her. In fact, she didn't really understand herself either. Her only friend was her father, who was much too busy to spend time with her anymore after being appointed as Lead Surgeon. She came from a long line of wealthy and successful families. However, her father loved her and would do anything for her. He bought her dresses, make up, dolls and gadgets; literally given anything she ever wanted since birth. He also named her Darla; a shortened name for Darling. All her father asked of Darla is to be good and never leave him. He always emphasized on 'not leaving him' sternly so much so that Darla found it to be quite eerie at times.
As she grew older, Darla grew tired of restrictions. She became a rebel and hated being held back. Her behavior and attitude was looked down upon by other members of her family as it was not a 'prestigious' person's way. Being a teenager, Darla suffered numerous heartbreaks as many were scared of her family and the fact her father never approved of any relationship, made her become a strong misanthropist. She looked down at her pale white hands; fingers bony and long. She has done nothing in life. Nothing compared to her family's achievements. She felt useless, different, unwanted and insecure. Her silk-like blonde hair blew across her face as she looked down from the ledge of her school's rooftop. With her almond shaped eyes closed, she jumped off.
Bright lights stung her eyes. She thought she was supposed to be dead. She began thinking whether she was in heaven or hell. Slowly opening her eyes, it became clear she was back in her room. But why was she still alive? Why doesn't she feel any pain? These thoughts ran laps in her mind while she was staring into the air.
"Awake?', her father's voice echoed. But her father wasn't in the room. Suddenly she felt strong tugs at her limbs. Confused, she looked down at her body. Much to her horror, she noticed her body did not look the same anymore. Her joints are now made of screws and her skin resembled patchwork quilts, but only made of different skins stitched together. Her eyes teared up and she yelled "What did you do to me?!". The putrid smell of rotten and old skin on her own body engulfed her senses. Her uniform was drenched in blood and bits of unknown substances clinged onto the fabric.
"Didn't I tell you not to leave me?", her father replied and appeared behind her holding metallic threads attached to Darla's joints.
"Now you definitely won't be leaving me anymore."
Bright lights stung her eyes. She thought she was supposed to be dead. She began thinking whether she was in heaven or hell. Slowly opening her eyes, it became clear she was back in her room. But why was she still alive? Why doesn't she feel any pain? These thoughts ran laps in her mind while she was staring into the air.
"Awake?', her father's voice echoed. But her father wasn't in the room. Suddenly she felt strong tugs at her limbs. Confused, she looked down at her body. Much to her horror, she noticed her body did not look the same anymore. Her joints are now made of screws and her skin resembled patchwork quilts, but only made of different skins stitched together. Her eyes teared up and she yelled "What did you do to me?!". The putrid smell of rotten and old skin on her own body engulfed her senses. Her uniform was drenched in blood and bits of unknown substances clinged onto the fabric.
"Didn't I tell you not to leave me?", her father replied and appeared behind her holding metallic threads attached to Darla's joints.
"Now you definitely won't be leaving me anymore."
Definitions
1 sentence pitch: a one sentence summary of is a good description of the plot, not the theme.
Log line: a sentence summary of a television program of film, often providing both a synopsis of the program's plot and an emotional 'hook' to stimulate interest.
Synopsis: a brief or condensed statement giving a general view of some subject.
Character bio: a detailed description or account of the character's life.
Storyline: the plot of a book or play or film (from start to end).
Scene breakdown: an intermediate step in the production of a play, film, comic book, or any other work that is originally planned. outline of a scene.
Beats: breadcrumbs. one event leads to an another event.
Plots: the order of events in a narrative or any other type of story.
Subplots: a secondary plot strand that is a supporting side story for any story or the main plot and may connect to main plots in either time, place or thematic significance.
Turning points: the point at which a very significant change occurs; a decisive moment.
Script: a written version of a play or other dramatic composition; used in preparing for a performance.
Climax: a moment of great intensity in the plot of literary work, generally bringing events to a head and leading to the conclusion.
Hook: a literary technique in the opening of a story that 'hooks' the reader's attention of that he/she will keep on reading.
Motive: an emotion, desire, physiological need, or similar impulse that acts as an incitement to action.
Conflict: a state of disharmony between incompatible or antithetical persons, ideas or interests; a clash.
Dramatic sequence: numerous sequence of events
Resolution: the state of being resolved or firm in opinion or thought; conviction; assurance.
Outcome: something that follows from an action, dispute, situation, etc. ; result; consequence
Paradigm: an outstandingly clear or typical example or archetype. a model or example or scheme/ diagram of what a screenplay is.
Log line: a sentence summary of a television program of film, often providing both a synopsis of the program's plot and an emotional 'hook' to stimulate interest.
Synopsis: a brief or condensed statement giving a general view of some subject.
Character bio: a detailed description or account of the character's life.
Storyline: the plot of a book or play or film (from start to end).
Scene breakdown: an intermediate step in the production of a play, film, comic book, or any other work that is originally planned. outline of a scene.
Beats: breadcrumbs. one event leads to an another event.
Plots: the order of events in a narrative or any other type of story.
Subplots: a secondary plot strand that is a supporting side story for any story or the main plot and may connect to main plots in either time, place or thematic significance.
Turning points: the point at which a very significant change occurs; a decisive moment.
Script: a written version of a play or other dramatic composition; used in preparing for a performance.
Climax: a moment of great intensity in the plot of literary work, generally bringing events to a head and leading to the conclusion.
Hook: a literary technique in the opening of a story that 'hooks' the reader's attention of that he/she will keep on reading.
Motive: an emotion, desire, physiological need, or similar impulse that acts as an incitement to action.
Conflict: a state of disharmony between incompatible or antithetical persons, ideas or interests; a clash.
Dramatic sequence: numerous sequence of events
Resolution: the state of being resolved or firm in opinion or thought; conviction; assurance.
Outcome: something that follows from an action, dispute, situation, etc. ; result; consequence
Paradigm: an outstandingly clear or typical example or archetype. a model or example or scheme/ diagram of what a screenplay is.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Class Writing #1
1. Think of 2 people you know.
2. Write down their character.
3. Put them in a situation.
Character A: Bob
Fair, tall, meaty.
Annoying, child-like, humorous, likes irritating people.
Easy-going but frequently annoys people for fun.
Character B: John
Tall and lean.
Nonchalant, sarcastic, headstrong.
Very straightforward, honest and people either like or dislike him.
Situation:
Both of them are starving and upon reaching a hawker centre, they realize all the seats are taken except one with a mere tissue paper packet on the top of the table.
What would they do in such a situation:
Bob looked at the seats and whispered, "There's people reserving these seats already!". John frowned; very much annoyed with such 'Singaporean Auntie' behavior. John proceeded in flicking the tissue paper away and sat down as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Having no other option, Bob reluctantly sat down as well.
"So, what do you want to eat?", John asked.
"Don't know leh..", Bob responded in a mumble.
John decides to wait for Bob to think of something.
They both sat in awkward silence for minutes, only for their silence to be disrupted by a grumble of John's belly.
Running out of patience and having his hunger bothering him, John stormed off to buy his food first.
2. Write down their character.
3. Put them in a situation.
Character A: Bob
Fair, tall, meaty.
Annoying, child-like, humorous, likes irritating people.
Easy-going but frequently annoys people for fun.
Character B: John
Tall and lean.
Nonchalant, sarcastic, headstrong.
Very straightforward, honest and people either like or dislike him.
Situation:
Both of them are starving and upon reaching a hawker centre, they realize all the seats are taken except one with a mere tissue paper packet on the top of the table.
What would they do in such a situation:
Bob looked at the seats and whispered, "There's people reserving these seats already!". John frowned; very much annoyed with such 'Singaporean Auntie' behavior. John proceeded in flicking the tissue paper away and sat down as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Having no other option, Bob reluctantly sat down as well.
"So, what do you want to eat?", John asked.
"Don't know leh..", Bob responded in a mumble.
John decides to wait for Bob to think of something.
They both sat in awkward silence for minutes, only for their silence to be disrupted by a grumble of John's belly.
Running out of patience and having his hunger bothering him, John stormed off to buy his food first.
Monday, August 1, 2011
What is a story?
A story is a series of events taking place. It has a beginning and an ending. Stories vary in content; from fantasy to non-fiction. A story has powers to bring you and your senses to another land as big as your imagination would allow it to be. A story can make you feel someone else's emotions and feel their joy, pain or misery. Stories are products of an imaginative mind and a door to an alternate universe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)