Essay On Storytelling

Essay On Storytelling
Lyndsay Miller
Ms. Williams
English 12
10 November 2014
Storytelling
Storytelling is the oral tradition of sharing stories and recounting events of the past. It is an ancient art form and is a dear form of human expression
(What is). Most historians and psychologists alike agree that storytelling is one of the many things binding and defining humanity as we know it
because everything revolves around storytelling in one form or another. Humans are possibly the only animals capable of creating and telling stories.
Though it is known that the history of storytelling is quite ancient, stories still play a crucial part of our societies and cultures. Its influence is in
almost every aspect of human life whether it be movies, books, music, news, religion, or art. Stories are what define us and our morals, our dreams,
our prejudices, and our desires. Typically, oral stories are handed down generation to generation. It is not known who or when the first story was told,
much less what the first story was (History).
The history of storytelling is not one that can be pinpointed to a particular time and place, but it can be assumed that man began to tell stories when he
developed the capacity of speech. This being said, not all tales were for entertainment purposes, but rather to enlighten, to tell...show more content...
They way stories are told may morph, but never will storytelling cease. From their people skills to their memories, there is no argument that storytellers
possess boundless talent and intelligence. They were the first educators. And now, storytelling is a large part of everyday life. The news in the morning,
the gossip throughout the day, the casual response to the casual "What's up?" – It's all a form of storytelling. Our lives are steeped in it. In almost every
conversation a story is told. At every turn a story is born. So we all are storytellers, and the world is our audience, just waiting to hear the gospel leave
our
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Short Story : A Story
Excited burbles permeated the kitchen while Sakura skimmed through the morning paper. Nothing thrilling occured where she was stationed... then
again that was likely a good thing. Peacetime was cherished widely because no one knew when it would end. At least, civilians never did.
Setting her mug down on the table, she glanced to the window above the sink and her eyes fell to the dishes that she'd been ignoring for an odd
number of minutes. A small hand tugged at her left one and she turned her head to look down at her daughter, grateful for another reason to ignore the
pile.
"What's up, toots?"
The toddler smiled in response, and wrapped her hand around her mother's index finger. She pulled and Sakura sighed knowingly.
"Where are you leading me to this time, Haruhi?" She wondered aloud.
Following after the child with a hunched back, Sakura pulled her hand away when Haruhi paused in the main doorway. Sakura stood her full height and
glanced from her daughter to the door.
Mumbling a couple of garbled sentences, Haruhi pointed at the doorknob and looked at her mother.
"You want to go outside?" Haruhi smiled in response to her mother's question. "Ah, okay. We have to get changed first then."
She bent over to lift the child from the floor and Haruhi whined loudly when her mother walked in the opposite direction of the door.
Stepping into Haruhi's room, Sakura studied the lavender walls in contemplation while her daughter fussed in her

Short Stories
Comparative Essay on the short stories "He–y Come on ou–t" and "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" There are many strategies people use to help cope
with their problems, most of which involve solving what caused the problem in the first place. What people should never do, but sometimes try
anyway, is to push off the problem so they don't have to deal with it. This should never be done because this doesn't solve anything, and the root cause
will often manifest and cause a much larger problem. The two short stories "He–y, come on ou–t" and "The secret life of Walter Mitty" both explore a
way people try to put problems off– and how it ultimately impacts them in a negative way. These two stories relate to each other because they both
show that in the end, your problems won't just disappear. Choosing to forget and ignore a problem will not help solve anything.
In the short story "He–y, come on ou–t!" , A hurricane which swept past a small town has recently passed. The town itself has survived without too
much damage but, an old shrine that used to stand nearby has been toppled over. Surprisingly, now that the shrine is gone, the townsfolk notice that
there is a large hole underneath where the shrine used to be. An eager young man is the first to notice, he yells into the hole "He–y, come on ou–t!" He
then throws in a pebble to gauge the depth the hole, but the pebble never seems to hit the bottom. Soon, Scientists come and try to find out how deep
the hole is, but even with

Poem Vs Short Story
The essential difference between a poem and a short story is the difference of scope. So, poems are short and they, briefly, tell you how the author is
feeling about in a few words, while short stories could be written by the author at any moment with a plot, themes, character development, setting etc.
The play "Naked Lunch" by Michael Hollinger is about a man named Vernon and a female named Lucy. They used to be a couple but they are no
longer together. When they were sitting down to eat, Vernon started asking her the reasons of why she did not want to eat steak. He was making a big
problem of it. Vernon finally ends up making Lucy eat the steak by yelling at her. Consequently, she ate the steak because she was scared.
A play can be long or short, it all depends on what the author wants to transmit to his or her audience. The time is essentially important. In a play the
characters need to talk each other to have an act; on the other hand, in short stories the narrator explains the situation, he is the one making and telling
us the story.
Most good stories start with a fundamental characteristics: the initial situation, the conflict, the climax, suspense, and conclusion. In "Girl" by Jamaica
Kincaid, the story does not seems to be real since it...show more content...
A short story has characters, a main idea (the plot), the conflict of the story. They both have an emotional respond from the reader. In "I could not stop
for Death" by Emily Dickinson, the author gives us a clue of what the poem will be about at the beginning. This makes it easier to understand; how the
author begins it differences him from others. As in "Naked Lunch" by Michael Hollinger; I honestly thought that this couple would get back together
since they were having diner, but eventually it ended up in an unexpected way. It was not the ending I expected honestly. Dickinson in the poetry
focuses too much on death. It tells us that death can come to us when you least expect

Short Story
The lime green walls were covered in various painting, some of which were there to teach the students about love and peace. However, the students
were selfish and careless and even oblivious to their surroundings. They prioritized their designated group of friends, being strict and all with who
could and couldn't sit at their lunch tables. It was the same with good treatment and respect, only the most favorable ones received that. (Maybe
remove this and change it) With some voices louder than others, the cafeteria seemed to be all over the place. The lunch line was overflowing with
hungry scowling faces, seething despair as they waited for their turn to be served by the old lunch ladies. (Add some senses such as smell, maybe even
some...show more content...
It represents peace and serenity." I nodded in deep understanding. There was a moment of silence before Jake spoke up again. "This place clearly
doesn't have any of that." I pouted. "Why do you say that?" He sighed and placed his hands over his face, frustration evident in his voice. "What is
it?" "Lesly, I haven't been completely honest with you." "Can you elaborate on that?" I asked with a slight hint of humor. He rolled his eyes at me
and looked down at his shaky hands. I looked at them too, wondering why he was so nervous all of a sudden. "People are bothering me lately."
"Bothering you? In what way?" He gulped. "Uh... well..." I tilted my head to the side and placed my hand on his reassuringly so that he would trust
me. He sqzueezed his eyes shut, contemplating for a bit, then opened them again. We had some sort of staring contest until he uttered a few words
under his breath. I only somehow managed to catch what he said perfectly. "There's these guys..." – he tugged at the sleeves of us his hoodie
anxiously– "I'm really scared." "Is someone hurting you?" I asked. He nodded and kept his eyes on our hands. "Since when?" I asked softly. Again.
The words were left hanging in the air, uncomfortable silence making its way between us. "It doesn't even matter." I looked at him in disbelief. "It does
matter!" "Why

Short Stories
The perspective of the main character in the short story is very important to the archetypal quest because it develops the story through his point of
view. In the first few paragraphs the author creates the setting. The use of words such as "uninhabited", "brown", "imperturbable", and "sombre" all
create a sullen and dark image for the reader. The only light that the maincharacter notes seeing is "her [Mangan's sister] figure defined by the light
from the half opened door." Given that the story is being told from the perspective of the main character, Mangan's sister is illuminated in his eyes as
some angelic figure. The contrast between light and dark causes her to stand out, especially to the boy. This is the first experience the boy has...show
more content...
The main character describes the girl as elegant and notices the "soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side". Her hair here is symbolic of this
trap that the boy is being lured into. While this is his first love, his inexperience is causing him to fall for her much more than most would. The
comparison of her hair to a rope puts emphasis on this since he is being lured in in a sense and he can't restrain himself from being baited in. The
light that is described as illuminating Mangan's sister amidst the dark setting also proves to be symbolic of this trap. "The light from the lamp
opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there, and falling, lit up the hand upon the railing". All of her body
in this section is described here as highlighted by the light and she appears to be flashing to the boy. The light therefore is symbolic of the fact that
the main character is being lured in by Mangan's sister. The whole interaction is described very similarly to a fish being lured in by a fishing lure. He
isn't thinking straight and just sees the light and is immediately intrigued. This attribute of the story makes it an archetypal quest because it is
universally applicable to people. Often people fall for someone simply due to appearance, and are drawn in very much like the

Short Story
It was Saturday morning and I had just woke up. I received an email from the coach that coaches one of the best teams. I could not believe what I
had just seen. On the email it wrote "Dear Victoria, I had watched you play in a few games, and I think you would be a good addition to my team.
Would you want to come to practice tonight?" I thought to myself, I am not good enough, so maybe I should not go. But as the day went on, I
actually thought that I should go just for the experience. When I got to the field and walked to the team, we quickly started to warm up. As the
practice continued, I realized that the girls were bigger and stronger than I was. I kept getting pushed around and overpowered. During water break, a
girl with bright,...show more content...
This was the way I knew how to play. The last drill we did was challenging. Some of these skill moves were a bit complex for me to learn. We
dribbled to the cone did a skill move around the cone, then dribbled with a burst to the next cone. Coach told us to start with this move called the
Elastico. It was a 1v1 skill move with the motions of touching the ball one way, then quickly switching to the other side, but these motions were
supposedly combined to be all one motion. At my first try, I tripped over myself. It was kind of noticeable, but I don't think anyone saw it. Turns
out I was wrong. "You're doing just fine, Victoria. Remember to just put it in one motion and do it quickly," Layla advised. "If you're having
trouble, don't worry because you can work on these moves at home or anytime," Aria added. A few tries later, I actually started to get it right. Yes!
I finally did it! I thought to myself in an accomplishing manner. "Nice one!" I acknowledged to Aria. "Right back at ya!" Aria contributed.
"Thanks! Im finally getting it down properly," I expressed with joyfulness. Practice has now ended and i knew i've improved a lot. I was walking to my
bag, while Layla asked, "Are you ready for the game tomorrow?" "Yes, but i'm kind of nervous since it's my first game," I stated. "You will be okay,
I promise," Layla replied. As the next day crept up, it was already time for the game. Someone had told me last minute that the game was the

short story
Short Stories: Characteristics
Short – Can usually be read in one sitting.
Concise: Information offered in the story is relevant to the tale being told. This is unlike a novel, where the story can diverge from the main plot
Usually tries to leave behind a single impression or effect. Usually, though not always built around one character, place, idea, or act.
Because they are concise, writers depend on the reader bringing personal experiences and prior knowledge to the story.
Four Major components of the Short Story
PLOT
SETTING
CHARACTERS
THEME
#1 PLOT
The action that takes place in the story. It is a series of connected happenings and their result. In order to have a result, we must have an initial event, or
...show more content...
Because of their short length, short stories may or may not follow this pattern. Some do not follow patterns at all. For example, modern short stories
only occasionally have an exposition. More typical, though, is an abrupt beginning, with the story starting in the middle of the action. As with longer
stories, plots of short stories also have a climax, crisis, or turning–point. However, the endings of many short stories are abrupt and open and may or
may not have a moral or practical lesson.
Of course, as with any art form, the exact characteristics of a short story will vary by author.
Length determining what exactly separates a short story from longer fictional formats is problematic. A classic definition of a short story is that one
should be able to be read it in one sitting, a point most notably made in Edgar Allan Poe 's essay "The Philosophy of Composition" (1846). Other
definitions place the maximum word length at 7,500 words. In contemporary usage, the term short story most often refers to a work of fiction no longer
than 20,000 words and no shorter than 1,000.
Short Story Structure
Create a narrative lead: show the main character in action, dialogue, or reaction.

Essay on Short Stories and Poetry
Short Stories and Poetry There are many different forms of writing that all fall under the name literature. These different ways to create literature are
often categorized into specific genres. Some of the genres have more in common with each other than others. Two genres, theshort story and the poem,
share many similar aspects. Both the short story and the poem can successfully send powerful messages or tell complex stories in a very short amount
of words. Both genres contain carefully manipulated language that quickly yet effectively establishes the meaning of the short story or poem. Point of
view is a prominent aspect in controlling short stories and poetry. The works are thus often told in the first...show more content...
Short literary works are confined to the boundaries on length according to their specific genre; they don't have time for lengthy or slow introductions.
William Faulkner's "A Rose of Emily" (p. 443) begins immediately with a startling statement about Miss Emily's death. Faulkner creates a first
sentence that describes how "our whole town went to her funeral" (1), using of course the first person form of "we" (28, 43, 46, etc...) The narrator
is most likely one of the townspeople who represents the point of view of the entire town. Through the use of plural first person narration, the author
makes the reader feel as if though they are part of the story, grasping his or her interest more quickly. Faulkner employs this first person narration in
the first sentence of his story, thus immediately capturing the reader's attention. The reader's engagement in the story also adds to its emotionality. By
feeling as though he or she is a part of the story, the reader often feels sadness, joy and other emotions with the characters of the story. When the
townspeople were "surprised when Homer Barron...was gone" (46), the use of "we" (46) forces the reader to feel the same confusion and shock that
the townspeople do. The first person helps to enrich the variability and appeal of the short story.
This use of first person to strengthen the feeling of the

Short Story
Once out in the one of the gardens, Alayna breathed out a sigh of relief. She had been hoping no one would stop them on their way out of the castle
and thankfully, they expedition hadn't been interrupted. Relaxing, the Reachwoman allowed the cool breeze to wash across her face as the sun
blazed in the late morning sky. Her companion, however, wasn't interested in enjoying the favorable weather. "What do you need?" Griff inquired as
he steered them down one of the numerous pathways. Alayna sighed before she broached the topic, "I need you to teach me how to sword fight."
Blinking, Griff's brow furrowed, "Fight? Why would you ever need to know such a thing?" "Ever since I was captured by the Kingswood
Brotherhood, I can't help but feel...show more content...
It's not noticeable to anyone except those who know him." Griff assured her, knowing that the lady on his arm feared someone might discover the
true nature of her and Ser Arthur's relationship. "Plenty of people here know him though. That's what worries me." Alayna admitted, unable to
ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. Griff patted her arm, soothingly as he offered her an encouraging smile, "I wouldn't be if I were in your
position. Layna, Arthur Dayne is one of the most honorable people I know. I doubt he'd allow his feelings to rule him in that way." "But still..."
Alayna trailed off, her mind rehashing all the scenarios which had plagued her since her return to King's Landing. "Fret not, my friend. It is possible
to have your cake and eat it, too." He stated before his eyes flashed as he continued, "I'll train you. But on one condition." "What's that?" Alayna
prompted, rolling her eyes at the mischievous look in her friend's cerulean eyes. "You have to do everything I say." Griff informed the Reachwoman,
smugly. The waves crashed against the cliffs surrounding the bay as Alayna followed Griff down to an

Short Story
Despite all the people in the waiting room, it is completely silent. Football players line the walls; some are sitting, some are standing, some stare,
some cry, but all were silent. Parents, friends, and family speak their condolences to the parents. Despite all words of encouragement they are
broken. Fear of uncertainty is plastered all over their face. Two doctors walk in and everyone stands to look. They pulled the parents into a room to
speak with them. The movement stopped and the only sound heard was the occasional sniffle and a few coughs. The news had arrived. A cerebral
edema, a brain bleed; 15% chance of survival. He had been revived from death five times on the helicopter to OLOL. An hour before it had been a
normal day. An...show more content...
I still wanted a homecoming date after all. Traffic was at a standstill on LA 431. Cars moved at molasses pace and it was making my already sour
mood grow toxic. There was a cop holding traffic on both sides and I remember thinking that we'd be there forever. We were stuck in front of what
looked like a football game that day, at a local church school. I knew the school well, as I had a couple of friends that attend there. The game had
already started, but it looked like it was a timeout. More specifically an injury time out, as players from both teams were huddled together on one
knee in prayer. I felt sorry for the player and his family but thought nothing of it after that. As cars started moving a bright, chartreuse copter flew in
behind us. It drew nearer and nearer to the left of me when finally it stopped. It hovered as closely to the ground as it could and lowered a ladder.
"This is serious" I thought. Using an air med in any situation is serious, and at a high school football game it is even more. As curious as I was, I
drove on. We pulled into the parking lot of a dress store. The whine of sirens was heard in the distance. I remember thinking that today must have
had some sort of voodoo on it for some people, it seemed bad luck was around every corner. Walking in the store I was immediately bombarded with
ruffles, tulle and bling, not to mention the stores eccentric owner. I casually walked up and down the aisles pulling dresses

A Short Story : A Story?
That same morning on the other side of the town Bryana was being bombarded with countless questions from interviewers. The petite blonde could
barely understand the mathematical questions being hurled at her. She quietly stood helpless in the middle of the Supreme store, surrounded by
reporters.
"I'm sorry I don't know what you're talking about." She told one interviewer as her frail body tried to push past the crowd. Her efforts were beginning
to show no luck and Bryana started to regret fighting with her manager that could also act as her bodyguard.
"Bryana, did you take these classes in high school?"
"Uh, well I'm actually afraid of heights." The model answered into the microphone that was forced in front of her face. Bryana's anxiousness rose to
an all time high when her wrist was grabbed and pulled, leading her out of the circle of reporters. The blonde let out a yelp and shut her crystal blue
eyes tightly, afraid of who was handling her.
"Havin' a bit of trouble ther', Love?" The blue haired singer smiled, having found the extraordinary girl. Bryana slowly opened her eyes and flashed
her pearly white smile as she wrapped her arms around the familiar man's neck.
"Steven you have no idea how happy I am to see you." She sighed in relief. But much to the tan woman's dismay, the reporters took a new interest that
involved the two.
"Wait, is there a possible romance between 2D, frontman for the band Gorillaz, and the Genius Girl?"
2D let out a grunt of annoyance,

Essay about Short Story
Short Story The sudden, severe storm caught me totally unaware. I was walking down Peppers Road when the dark clouds started to build. I looked
around as I huddled under a large, dead oak tree which offered me little or no protection from the razor–sharp rain. Almost all of the houses on this
abandoned street were too badly damaged for me to take shelter in, except for one. The house loomed impressive and morbid in the greenish–black sky.
A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the house and I saw that the windows were broken, but the structure seemed sound. I started to think what I
should do; my options were to either stay under this great dead oak tree risking getting hit by lightning...show more content...
There was a crash from upstairs. My heart began to race. Who was it? What was it? I could only hear my heart as I listened for another sound. The
silence throbbed in my ears; I stood at the bottom of the staircase. The sounds had come from upstairs. My curiosity and swallowed my fears and
nervously ascended the battered and dilapidated stairs, not knowing what I was going to encounter. On the second floor I found a bathroom furnished
in an old murky green with scale on it, I left it undisturbed as the floor looked unsafe. I found several bedrooms laden with cloth–covered antiques,
clothes that might have been beautiful at one time, and tarnished jewellery. The walls and floor where all wooden, they were illuminated by the
constant stream of lightning flashes that came through the stained window that towered over me. At the end of the second floor, I found yet
another stair well. This one was dark and coated with lacy spider webs. It led to what must have been the children's floor at one point. There was a
play room that took up most of the space, along with two bedrooms with dainty furniture, and the nurse's room. What I mistook for a closet at first
was really a narrow flight of stairs that lead into the attic. A giant rat scampered across my feet. Its beady eyes glowed red in the flicker of my lighter.
It hissed at me. I

Short Story
"Come on Rosa, Just one little dance" I shook my head "Nope" I told the blonde hair boy that was standing in front of me, he was standing high and
mighty like a perfect structured solider "We would hurt are selves" and i was right, we both could get seriously hurt if we fell of this roof. Alpha
Nylon and the pack wouldn't give a glance or two towards my injuries but with Lyndon, our future alpha injuries they would call down a whole medical
team to fix him up Even though i am the Beta daughter– Or well was the pack beta daughter they didn't care about me or my existence. I was nothing
to them sadly. I could feel Lyndon presence closer now–Way closer than before. I could actually smell the mint and aftershave running off his body, his
...show more content...
a pout was traced upon his lips just like I expected "For me?" He was my destruction but I didn't know that just yet. When there was a pout or even
a sad smile plastered onto Lyndon face, I just wanted to smack it right off. I disliked maybe even hated it when a frown was covering his beautiful
features, I did or said anything to make him smile. he deserved to smile. So if dancing with him makes him smile then so be it. I rolled my eyes "I
hate when you do the pouty face Lyndon, you know I always cave in when you do that!" I shouted in a whisper afraid to raise my voice to loud for
the house to wake up. The pout was gone and replaced with a smug smile– A smile filled with victory "O, I know" he winked at me making my heart
flutter "Get up, so you can show me your moves Rosa" A blush rised up my cheeks . I was thankful that we sat in the dark, with the moon and stars
being are source of light because any other light would have showed my rose up cheeks to Lyndon and that would have been ten times more
embarrassing. My pale skin brought out the red in my cheeks more and for some reason everyone always thought that was amusing to see "Shut up" I
mumbled. Lyndon stood up once again but this time stretching his hand out for me to grab and I did grab on to it freely letting him pull me up from
the cold wood that I was sitting on. I placed my

A Short Story : A Story?
Bending her head down, she said a few words, words they all knew during those times they could act human and pay respect to a fallen soul. She said
the prayer out of some kind of guilt or mercy, she couldn't decide which she leaned to more. "Peace be with you, and may you rest now forevermore,"
she finished and began the journey back to the compound. She was heading home. The thick, metal door closed behind her, creaking and echoing
throughout the long hallway that began the maze of hallways and rooms in the almost empty bunker. It took Meghan a couple seconds but the echoes
coming from the door just continued to fade. "Keegan, I'm home!" she shouted. Her voice echoed down through the hallway solely without the
familiar music Keegan usually played. To drown out the silence, he'd say. She waited but no response came. She and Keegan were the only ones left
in the compound now. They'd both spent most of their childhood growing up in this hidden refuge. The hallways, the rooms, even the inner
courtyard, allowed them more than enough space in which to live their lives, even if they were lonely lives indeed. Dropping her stuff off in the
mudroom, she kept the rifle only, still curious why Keegan hadn't said something over the speakers as he usually did. The massive shelved room the
lead to Keegan's desk was stocked with several pieces of communication equipment, from rolls of wire to lines of walkie–talkies. He created most of the
walkie–talkies to include this feature or that, all from the scavenging trips they took. Some of the rolls of wire were covered in layers of dust but
Keegan had always been adamant in using most of what they spent effort in scavenging. Her eyes followed lines the entire way to his workspace,
wondering if the lines had shorted, or something, to explain the quiet hallways. His seat was certainly empty as she made her way into the side room.
The entire far wall was covered in screens, a few monitors, and of course, Keegan's masterpiece, the long–distance radio command center. He's set up
towers, big metal antennas that echoed the same message on open channels that'd been playing for the last three years. "To all who may hear this, we
are here and we

Short Story Of Short Stories
One thing that's great about short stories is how quickly they can ruin your life. Maybe you start reading one over your lunch break and, if it's the right
one, before that peanut butter cup you brought for dessert even has a chance to finish its melting shape–shift into some kind of sugary cement, the
whole world has been destroyed around you and then rebuilt, and nothing is quite the same again. This happens whether you like it or not. Great
stories practice this violent beauty on you in a variety of ways: some by making an absurd world familiar (or vice versa), some with a slow burn,
some with a voice that colonizes your thoughts. Some do it quietly, almost without you even noticing, and some do it with high wire acts of
imagination or intellect that make you into a breathless witness. The trick, then, is finding the right story, one that is capable of such a thing. This
is no easy task. Tastes differ, of course, and it can be confusing to spot the small boat of a great story on the wide sea of fiction. What any reader
can offer you in terms of guidance is actually the same thing that any good writer can offer you with the story itself: a way of saying, This is what
moved me and made me feel strange and alive in some way; here, why don't you give it a try? In that spirit and in no particular order, here are ten
short stories you might've missed that ambushed me with their odd wonder: 1."The Zero Meter Diving Team" by Jim Shepard (BOMB Magazine)
This curious,

Essay On Storytelling

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