Story

Is this a good story plot?

by admin on July 7, 2012

Question by : Is this a good story plot?
In a world medieval world where there is hatred between the two kingdoms of white and black Eder has lost his father and hopes with all the world to reclaim him and bring him back home. Eder’s father was taken by the White King and then sold as a slave to merchants. So Eder begins the quest of finding his father. The White King has a plan to take over the Land of Black. He hires mercenaries to kidnap the Black Kings family threatening them with death unless all the Land of black is given to him. The black King falls and gives up the Kingdom and The white king begins preparing his army. Eder has found his father and is now heading back to the Land of Black when a messenger has news that the White King is preparing an army for war and that the Black King has been captured. Eder goes to the Land of Black and gathers and army to fight the White Kings army starting the beginning of a war.

Is it good? Please be honest and what should I call the world that this all takes place in?

Best answer:

Answer by vrsicks
You’re racist. The King of Black was sold as a slave?

And it sounds muddled and confusing.

You’re a racist AND an idiot.

What do you think? Answer below!

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What do you think of my story?

by admin on June 19, 2012

Question by : What do you think of my story?
Elma’s shadow drifted down Redville’s dark streets. She raised her eyebrows and twisted the sides of her lips downwards whenever the image of Vladimir, pulling out his dagger and dipping it in his chest, ran into her head. Even the image of Edward’s Gustav son as he cried over a faceless body, made her shiver and shake her head.

In her heart, Edward Gustav held a special place and she would do anything to protect him and his family.

She stopped in front of a two storey wooden house, bending leftward as if it was about to fall on its side. It was The Gustav’s house.

She knocked the door twice. And as she waited for someone to open, she turned and examined her long, pale face inside a puddle of water on the flagstones. Then she stroked her orange, flowing hair, and smiled.

Her chest straight and her shoulders relaxed, she knocked again, this time, the door shook under her knuckles.

“Who’s there?” a shrill voice spoke from behind the door, then an eye appeared at the peephole.

“It’s Elma.”

The door flung open and a slender woman wearing a green sleeping dress, frowned at Elma. “What brings you at such a late time?”

Elma smiled and without permission, she headed into the house.

“The place hasn’t changed.” She said, surveying the living room.

A small lantern, lit with a green candle hung down from the low ceiling. A round, three legged table stood beside the fireplace, where Edward Gustav used to sit and read his favorite medieval history books.

“I need to see Gustav.” Elma said, “News that concern one of your babies.”

She walked to the other end of the living room, and smiled at the four babies that lay sleeping on the creamy sofa under the window. She brought her face closer to the babies and surveyed them. Then she examined their features. They all had blue eyes, aquiline noses, and soft wet skin. The baby at the left side had a long neck, different from his sibling’s short, fatty necks.

“I know you’re wondering about his neck,” the woman that opened the door came into the living room, holding two mugs of green tea. “He’s called Ethan. He was born two minutes after his siblings.”

Elma ran a finger over the boy’s head and closed her eyes for some seconds, but then, she suddenly stood straight and walked to the middle of the living room. “Where’s Edward?” she said.

“I’m here,” a tall, black haired man with the same peaky nose of his babies, stood at the door of the living room. “I see that you finally decided to ask.”

Elma shivered the moment she saw Edward. She walked to the window, dipping her hands in the pockets of her coat. “May be I thought that you’d ask yourself,”

Beatrice moved her eyes between Edward and Elma. “Did you know each other before?” She said, “I didn’t know it.”

Elma grinned and walked to the fireplace. “I didn’t come to say hello Edward,” Elma said, “There’s a prophecy that concerns one of your children. You must know.”

Edward’s gaze narrowed and he walked towards Elma. “Beatrice,” he said, his sight focused over Elma. “Please leave us alone.”

“They’re my children,” Beatrice shouted, “I must know what this lady has to say,”

“Beatrice,” Edward said, his chin flattening against his chest and his cheekbones rising. “I don’t want to converse.”

“What do you mean? You…” Beatrice went on, but Edward thumped the wooden ground hard with his feet and one of the vases over the fireplace crashed to the floor. “Leave us alone.”

Best answer:

Answer by fazajan
Well the story is interesting…. but that is only i have no idea what it is about! You had a lot of description there and i like it. but then… you typed prophecy. I am not a big fan of fantasy books (used to be but now i am not). And I always thought that phrophecy was a bit cheesy. So from my fantasy fan perspective i would have really liked it. Keep writing and make sure that you know what your plot is because if you don’t… then your story will look a bit messy. so keep it up!

Know better? Leave your own answer in the comments!

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is my story any good?

by admin on May 27, 2012

Question by super red head!: is my story any good?
ok, look, im in sixth grade and i need to know if the story that i wrote is any good. please dont be mean. i want to be an author. this is not the full story the full version is a work in progress, its 29 pages right now but im not done. ok here it is.
The Runner.
Sam Burton

His feet thudded fast down the musty, semidark corridor. The chilling stone floor had luxurious carpets, and the walls had so many extravagant tapestries hung on the also stone walls that you couldn’t see wall anymore. The stone was all pale gray, and frozen, due to the fact that it was january and they didn’t have insulation or heaters in the sixteenth century. He was sprinting at his top speed, and his feet were moving faster than ever they ever had before. But still not fast enough. The sound of the castle’s gaurds’ footsteps were growing ominously more audible by the second. The mysterious runner was not a generally agile person, quite clumsy, actually. He could never fit into the athlete category at his high school back home in the twenty first century. The runner was on the heavy side, with a short and stocky frame. But that didn’t matter right now, the runner had no choice but to sprint to his body’s maximum speed. Which I must say isn’t very quick. There were no options right then because at least seven enraged, muscular men with medieval weaponry and dark intentions in the form of an angry mob were pursuing him in a sixteenth century castle. But the thing is, most people were faster than the runner. So, as you could probably guess, these athletically trained men were most definitely faster than him.
But –why?- you might ask, were they so furious with him? Well, its because of the book. That critical book. That book is the cause of this whole mess. But he needed the book anyway, no matter how much he despised it. The book had made him murder a man that he didn’t know, who did nothing to him, who had a wife, children, a life. The runner was a person who despised war and killing. But; like I explained, all of the runners options for everything were canceled out. Right now, there were things that had to be done, and if they weren’t done, and when they needed to be, then it would be certain death for the runner. The runner managed to squeeze a tiny bit more speed out of each stride, for the runner had gotten caught up in his thoughts, so he hadn’t paid attention to the now very much louder footsteps some length behind him. His lungs were on fire, his throat cracked and parched. His steps getting sluggish more and more with every step he took. His eyelids drooped. But the good news was that his legs were so past the pain, they were absolutely numb now, deftly moving to the slowing rhythm of his pace. His attention was averted when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He jerked to a stop.
As he warily surveyed the old fortress’ dimly lit corridor and caught his breath at the same time, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a man, who looked around thirty, but had bad skin and more wrinkles than he should. In his hand was a sword, glimmering in the dim lighting. It was perched at a perilous angle; with a flick of the man’s wrist, he could’ve killed the runner. And that was what the runner’s mind was ever too focused on. He was so concentrated on not being killed by the man that he didn’t hear the almost silent footsteps behind him, he didn’t hear the shallow breaths, and he didn’t hear the arrow slice the air. And by the time he did; it was in the runners back. The crucial book was taken from his grasp, as was his life. The books contents still unknown to the runner. Mission incomplete.

Best answer:

Answer by NicoleH
pretty good! i liked it! keep writing!

Give your answer to this question below!

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Q&A: What do you think of my story?

by admin on May 10, 2012

Question by : What do you think of my story?
Elma’s shadow drifted down Redville’s dark streets. She raised her eyebrows and twisted the sides of her lips downwards whenever the image of Vladimir, pulling out his dagger and dipping it in his chest, ran into her head. Even the image of Edward’s Gustav son as he cried over a faceless body, made her shiver and shake her head.

In her heart, Edward Gustav held a special place and she would do anything to protect him and his family.

She stopped in front of a two storey wooden house, bending leftward as if it was about to fall on its side. It was The Gustav’s house.

She knocked the door twice. And as she waited for someone to open, she turned and examined her long, pale face inside a puddle of water on the flagstones. Then she stroked her orange, flowing hair, and smiled.

Her chest straight and her shoulders relaxed, she knocked again, this time, the door shook under her knuckles.

“Who’s there?” a shrill voice spoke from behind the door, then an eye appeared at the peephole.

“It’s Elma.”

The door flung open and a slender woman wearing a green sleeping dress, frowned at Elma. “What brings you at such a late time?”

Elma smiled and without permission, she headed into the house.

“The place hasn’t changed.” She said, surveying the living room.

A small lantern, lit with a green candle hung down from the low ceiling. A round, three legged table stood beside the fireplace, where Edward Gustav used to sit and read his favorite medieval history books.

“I need to see Gustav.” Elma said, “News that concern one of your babies.”

She walked to the other end of the living room, and smiled at the four babies that lay sleeping on the creamy sofa under the window. She brought her face closer to the babies and surveyed them. Then she examined their features. They all had blue eyes, aquiline noses, and soft wet skin. The baby at the left side had a long neck, different from his sibling’s short, fatty necks.

“I know you’re wondering about his neck,” the woman that opened the door came into the living room, holding two mugs of green tea. “He’s called Ethan. He was born two minutes after his siblings.”

Elma ran a finger over the boy’s head and closed her eyes for some seconds, but then, she suddenly stood straight and walked to the middle of the living room. “Where’s Edward?” she said.

“I’m here,” a tall, black haired man with the same peaky nose of his babies, stood at the door of the living room. “I see that you finally decided to ask.”

Elma shivered the moment she saw Edward. She walked to the window, dipping her hands in the pockets of her coat. “May be I thought that you’d ask yourself,”

Beatrice moved her eyes between Edward and Elma. “Did you know each other before?” She said, “I didn’t know it.”

Elma grinned and walked to the fireplace. “I didn’t come to say hello Edward,” Elma said, “There’s a prophecy that concerns one of your children. You must know.”

Edward’s gaze narrowed and he walked towards Elma. “Beatrice,” he said, his sight focused over Elma. “Please leave us alone.”

“They’re my children,” Beatrice shouted, “I must know what this lady has to say,”

“Beatrice,” Edward said, his chin flattening against his chest and his cheekbones rising. “I don’t want to converse.”

“What do you mean? You…” Beatrice went on, but Edward thumped the wooden ground hard with his feet and one of the vases over the fireplace crashed to the floor. “Leave us alone.”

Best answer:

Answer by daniel_newmanmk
You should publish it.

I only don’t understand, why you are using “used to” in the sentence “…where Edward Gustav used to sit and read his favorite medieval history books”, since the man is still alive and lives in the same house. So he probably never quit doing that.

And there’s one more thing: Who’s Edward Gustav’s son? All he’s got are those 4 babies, right? (Unless Elma can read the Future.)

I suppose your story is going to turn out to be extremely suspenseful, having in mind that one of the babies is different than the others. It is surely going to be at least a part of the thrill.

I better don’t say “I wish you great success” or “I hope your book becomes a bestseller”, because whatever I wished or hoped for turned out to occur the other way around. So I simply say:

Just do it!

Give your answer to this question below!

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The Hammer and the Cross – The Tale of Charlemagne

Charles the Wonderful, far better know by his French title Charlemagne, is the most exceptional ruler of the early Medieval interval. Grandson of Charles Martel, or Charles the Hammer, and Pepin the Quick, he was best of the wonderful Carolingian rulers of the Franks. His reign of practically a 50 %-century reversed the slide toward anarchy in the West and his sponsorship of finding out aided sustain the spark of culture and studying by means of the afterwards Darkish Ages.Charles the Wonderful, much better know by his French identify Ch

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