View Full Version : 1st Edited Draft: The Stories

October 26th, 2010, 12:09 AM
All critiques welcome:

The mind, the fathom's guarded waters and guarded memories it holds. In those waters are the different threads of connection to life. I believe the mind is the author of all the stories of this world and I believe to understand this world we have to listen to the stories. I picture this concept by going into my own mind. I go into the darkness of my mind, everything is chilled yet calmed. I plunge into its depth and follow the different memories that lie within. Some random thoughts move by me freely of their own accord and way, while there were others in one place, and I knew without a doubt that was where my stories lay.

I plunged even further to where my stories were and this time the darkness begun to materialize ribbons of colors. The threads enveloped me all around and turned into a vivid surrounding. Everything around me had a strange aura of color around it and seemed to emit from everything. The road of ash black seemed to be truckeeway, the road near my house, and upwards from the ribbon of black a neon green grass hill was floating like a harmless giant near it. I hold my breath and different scenes race by.

I turn around to see a car crash and the out of body smell of rubble and smoke on the west side of the street. It’s then I remember the accident of one of my parents and the moral it gave me, don’t take anything for granite. I turn away to see the hill going upwards, seeming to eat the sky. Without any effort I climb up and out towards a white washed church. I remember going into a church of white wash after the accident and gaining something of knowing that there is something beyond this world. I look at the creamy baby blue sky up from that church and another thing came to me. “I believe, I believe, I believe….”

It was only a whisper from the velvet wind that came down from that sky and blanketed around me. Of course it was my own voice but it seemed different, probably because it was part of the vivid background.

“Oh yes I believe…” it went on. “… No matter how old you are or how the wind of memories whines around, everyone still has a story. Oh yes, a story to tell in our own vivid imagination and background. I believe to look, read, and listen to what everyone has to say. Who knows, one or everyone might hold the key of a better life.”

Suddenly everything began to corrode and wash away in a smudge of different colors. light comes to my eyes and I look around at the room that was outside of the concrete walls of my mind. I suddenly remembered those entire stories that gave a moral or showed events and pictures in different colors of the spectrum of light inside my mind that took place in my life. I was then struck with blue lighting of realization. The realization came when I remember all the different stories I read in my life; “The Book Thief,” “The Stand,” “the Chronicles of Narnia,” and all their different ideas.

“I know what I believe of all the hard concepts and troubles of this world.” I said to myself, believing to go mad. “I believe that our mind is also complicated along with those troubles, with all its mixed up words and thoughts. But I believe if we listen to every story of the soul and put the words together, we might just be able to make out a solution for those troubles. But our mind also compromises memories for its story so, in turn, we have to compromise to make everything work in motion.”

In short, I believe if we listen and work together and listen to facts in the stories of our mind we could have a clearer future for everyone in this world. So don’t let those waters be guarded, but instead flow freely for all!