PokemonFan
03-04-2011, 03:23 PM
X
Chapter One
Alone
I’ve read a lot of Stories, and most of them start off with some kind of interesting topic, but what of it? Simply relying on the works of other authors is pointless if you want your work to truly be appreciated.
What is the point in doing what others are doing? If you try your hardest and put in the proper effort, you’ll always accomplish something in the end. And don’t worry, because even if you aren’t sure if you want what you were aiming for, you’ll still get something good in the end.
For instance, say you’ve always wanted to be a pro-wrestler, not because you wanted the money or the publicity, but because to wanted to be strong. So you bulk up and join a Wrestling Gym. At the same time, you work for a Construction company and develop a great amount of muscle and strength. If what you really wanted was Power and strength, then isn’t this what you wanted all along?
But no matter what the outcome is, we are too prideful and believe that we deserve something better, even if it isn’t what we want. If you’re the guy from before, you probably won’t accept that you’re happy with just getting strong from Construction work. You’ll probably spend your days at the Gym, trying your hardest to get stronger, even though you already are strong.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The day started like any other day, with chirping birds, smiling classmates, and a good breakfast. This type of tale begins like any other, but it’s not like you need me to tell you about stuff you’ve heard a hundred times.
Hmm? Well, I guess there are a few out there, who have yet to grasp the predictable pattern of Story telling. Stand back please, and what how an Amateur works. Maybe later you can try reading Moby Dick or The Hobbit.
Well, here we are, in a nice and tidy shack. Well, from the outside, you’d think this was some run-down, dilapidated shack with zero potential, but if you stepped in, you’d have your entire perspective changed. After all, you can’t judge a book by its cover (I judge them by the quality of their words).
The door is bent inward and looks like someone tried to smash in with a battering ram. There is a short piece of wood nailed on both sides to keep the door intact. The doorknob is rusty and scratched, but there are signs of polish left over from attempts to clean it up. There is a burnt-up Welcome mat left in from of the door. It looks, though, like it was found in a trash heap from when a house caught fire.
The walls are lined with varying degrees of unprotected wood, some from the late ‘20s, and others from the early ‘90s. Some have been panted, and there are some that haven’t even been sanded. There’s only one floor, and the walls are only spread out enough for one room.
There are a decent amount of windows, but some have been boarded up, while others have signs of deep cracks running through them. The frames show signs of previous paint jobs, but most of the paint has long since chipped away.
Inside, there are signs of intensive care being done. The wooden floorboards have been washed and swept many times in the past month, and there isn’t even any dust collecting in the corners. There is a pair of sneakers set neatly to the side of the door with a small slab of cement underneath.
There is a small, wooden-crate over in the far left of the room, with a portable, camping stove on top. Beside the stove, lies a crudely made, wooden plate and a small bowl made out of cement. There is a stick with a short wire attached to the end, but if you look carefully, you’d see that it is in fact, a fishing pole of some kind, as there are three fish left hanging by their lower lip beside it.
On the other end of the room, lays a sleeping bag and a short stack of literature. Lying on the makeshift mattress lays our Protagonist.
With short, unkempt, black hair, standing at five feet, eleven inches, Garth is the exact opposite of what you’d consider a reliable fellow to appear as. He lies with his back rested against the wall behind him, as he plays his DS, equipped with the latest Pokemon game.
The DS is his prized possession, as it is his escape from the troubles of society (what troubles you ask? You’ll find out later). His father, Harold Frederickson, gave it to him just before he left him all alone. After which, Garth developed an obsession with Pokemon. Every cent that wasn’t paid towards food or living expenses was saved so that he could buy the latest Pokemon game.
The muscles in his arms, legs, and torso are bulky, but compressed, due to his daily exercise in the site.
Chapter One
Alone
I’ve read a lot of Stories, and most of them start off with some kind of interesting topic, but what of it? Simply relying on the works of other authors is pointless if you want your work to truly be appreciated.
What is the point in doing what others are doing? If you try your hardest and put in the proper effort, you’ll always accomplish something in the end. And don’t worry, because even if you aren’t sure if you want what you were aiming for, you’ll still get something good in the end.
For instance, say you’ve always wanted to be a pro-wrestler, not because you wanted the money or the publicity, but because to wanted to be strong. So you bulk up and join a Wrestling Gym. At the same time, you work for a Construction company and develop a great amount of muscle and strength. If what you really wanted was Power and strength, then isn’t this what you wanted all along?
But no matter what the outcome is, we are too prideful and believe that we deserve something better, even if it isn’t what we want. If you’re the guy from before, you probably won’t accept that you’re happy with just getting strong from Construction work. You’ll probably spend your days at the Gym, trying your hardest to get stronger, even though you already are strong.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The day started like any other day, with chirping birds, smiling classmates, and a good breakfast. This type of tale begins like any other, but it’s not like you need me to tell you about stuff you’ve heard a hundred times.
Hmm? Well, I guess there are a few out there, who have yet to grasp the predictable pattern of Story telling. Stand back please, and what how an Amateur works. Maybe later you can try reading Moby Dick or The Hobbit.
Well, here we are, in a nice and tidy shack. Well, from the outside, you’d think this was some run-down, dilapidated shack with zero potential, but if you stepped in, you’d have your entire perspective changed. After all, you can’t judge a book by its cover (I judge them by the quality of their words).
The door is bent inward and looks like someone tried to smash in with a battering ram. There is a short piece of wood nailed on both sides to keep the door intact. The doorknob is rusty and scratched, but there are signs of polish left over from attempts to clean it up. There is a burnt-up Welcome mat left in from of the door. It looks, though, like it was found in a trash heap from when a house caught fire.
The walls are lined with varying degrees of unprotected wood, some from the late ‘20s, and others from the early ‘90s. Some have been panted, and there are some that haven’t even been sanded. There’s only one floor, and the walls are only spread out enough for one room.
There are a decent amount of windows, but some have been boarded up, while others have signs of deep cracks running through them. The frames show signs of previous paint jobs, but most of the paint has long since chipped away.
Inside, there are signs of intensive care being done. The wooden floorboards have been washed and swept many times in the past month, and there isn’t even any dust collecting in the corners. There is a pair of sneakers set neatly to the side of the door with a small slab of cement underneath.
There is a small, wooden-crate over in the far left of the room, with a portable, camping stove on top. Beside the stove, lies a crudely made, wooden plate and a small bowl made out of cement. There is a stick with a short wire attached to the end, but if you look carefully, you’d see that it is in fact, a fishing pole of some kind, as there are three fish left hanging by their lower lip beside it.
On the other end of the room, lays a sleeping bag and a short stack of literature. Lying on the makeshift mattress lays our Protagonist.
With short, unkempt, black hair, standing at five feet, eleven inches, Garth is the exact opposite of what you’d consider a reliable fellow to appear as. He lies with his back rested against the wall behind him, as he plays his DS, equipped with the latest Pokemon game.
The DS is his prized possession, as it is his escape from the troubles of society (what troubles you ask? You’ll find out later). His father, Harold Frederickson, gave it to him just before he left him all alone. After which, Garth developed an obsession with Pokemon. Every cent that wasn’t paid towards food or living expenses was saved so that he could buy the latest Pokemon game.
The muscles in his arms, legs, and torso are bulky, but compressed, due to his daily exercise in the site.