what makes a good story?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
these are the thoughts of a teen on the current state of the western world. the language used in this really, really short story is open to interpretation to the critically analytical reader. this is a trial piece, just to see where things can go. any and old feedback is welcome. the more detail given on your criticism of my writing, the better.

Submitted: August 30, 2016

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Submitted: August 30, 2016

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What does it take to tell a good story?

By Ambience

 

The experience of someone who’s been places. I’ve been places. The knowledge of someone educated. I’m well educated. The emotions of an artist. I’m an artist. Emotion, knowledge and experience tell a good story. Anything else? It has to come from someone who looks like they’ve been to places, from someone who sounds educated and someone who expresses their emotions.

 

I’ve been places. I’ve been everywhere in my home city, I’ve been to other cities too. Other towns, other houses. I’ve lived in the dark. I’ve seen the light. Outside of comfort and home, away from warmth of family and friends, into dark caves, empty, cold and lifeless. I’ve been from one extreme to the other. I’ve been to heaven and I’ve been to hell. Where else can I go?

 

I have emotions. My emotions are like hurricanes and tsunami’s. Like volcanoes erupting and droughts scorching. They come crashing down on people, unsuspecting. You see the weather outside and see a clear calm sky, but in an instant, a storm has brewed, released from the maw of the unseen giant.

 

And I’m educated. I know the realities of the world, I know the greed, the lust, the pain and hunger. I can see we need more, we never have enough, we’re always starving. I can see we give, but the laws of equivalent exchange dictate, you must always take. There is a price for everything.

 

I know my life has value, I’ve been told from birth. My value is the pain, the suffering, the sheer agony I must endure to make sure I do my part, to make the world turn. Without me society stops, civilization ends, without me the world stops turning and freezes over into another ice age. I’m worth nothing if I cannot bleed, because the vampires are hungry, someone has to die. They bleed people dry, until there is nothing left. From the day you’re grown up, to the day you are dead. As a child as something innocent, you know nothing of the horrors that you must face, until it bleeds into your family, through your parents, your older siblings. The ones that are dying right before your eyes but you do not know it. Not yet.

 

I see the world burning. I see the world dying. I see the waste we pile over the graves of nameless thousands. We seek immortality, we crave it. We seek attention to be remembered beyond our death. Is there life after death? Only if you can deny the reaper his due.

 


© Copyright 2017 Ambience. All rights reserved.

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