Novel & Cerita Poetic Stories

With that we talked through the night . There are times that you would close your eyes, Those special memories of me will always bring back a smile, Calling my number repeatedly but with no response , If only you could have me back for just a little while you would say ,When I fade like the shadow of moon or like the whispers of the sea, The times of pain and the days of sorrow ,Miss me a little but not too long ,I want no cries, why cry for a soul gone to a better place, a home built with gold ,The time when living feels like dying ,Miss me but let me go , When I come to the end of the road and the sun has set for me , Miss me but let me go , For this journey is one we all must take , Bury

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

♫ A story, A story, A story to tell The young ones; their eyes are sparkling like gold and diamonds. Happy dreams and laughing smiles, The truth of today is far from reality. Souls wander about the earth, searching for what is not to be. Can hope be restored? Can peace shower on us like rain; comforting our souls- our tired souls? A story, A tale. Could it be a fantasy? Is it just a mere wish? How can I smile a happy smile? When will I drink the milk of peace?

Part 1 Alot of people have different life tale, I have read many and never thought I will one day tell mine here for others to read. I have held back for so long and Just felt is time to let my pain out. I will start right from when it all began. I came from a loving home, my parents were awesome when it comes to caring for us. I'm the first child and have younger siblings. A sister Lucia and two brothers. My parents were young and love each other before getting married.

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

I was surprised at myself, but I was happy to see myself smiling normally. After the facepainting, we had Al walk us around the school to check out the other classes. Just like in Al's class, the other classes continued to surprise me. If I didn't know that this was a school festival, I never would have guessed that the booths were made and managed by students. While we walked past the gymnasium, I noticed a poster for a play. It looked like a romance one, kinda similar to Romeo And Juliet. "You wanna watch that?" White asked as he peeked from behind me. "Oh, this is only a few minutes from now. Do you wanna just wait for it inside? Do we need tickets for this?"

And maybe in the end I'll succeed. The ideas have never stopped flowing, and amidst the difficulties, I've gathered them together to tell even more stories. I have a notebook full of ideas, story segments just waiting for the right piece to fit into. I've conceived many new universes. I have a love story planned that I hope will make your heart skip a beat, between two young people wounded by the world. A horror story that I hope will take your breath away, with its demons. A fantasy that I hope will transport you to a world of mysterious creatures and strange rites.

one shouted. "Yes! Tell the one about the fox and the moon!" "No, tell the one about the girl who turned into a hawk!" She laughed, breathless and glowing, and dropped to her knees in the grass, letting them swarm around her. "Alright, alright," she said, brushing her windblown hair from her face. "But only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through." "We won't!" they chorused, lying in the grass beside her. So she told them stories. Not of blood or battle, but of quiet bravery. Of kindness hidden in thorns. Of broken things that found new ways to shine.

This journey of writing has been a voyage of self-discovery, where I have learned as much about myself as I have about the craft of storytelling. I believe that stories are the threads that weave our shared human experience. They have the power to transcend cultural, geographical, and temporal boundaries, reminding us of our common humanity. Whether through the written word, oral tradition, or digital mediums, stories connect us, inspire us, and challenge us to grow. It is my hope that my words will find a resonance with readers, that they will evoke emotions, provoke thoughts, and spark conversations.