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So I started writing a story

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Joined: Mon Sep 11, 2017 4:24 pm

Unread post Tue Jun 19, 2018 2:37 pm


Hey everyone :wave:

I recently started writing a story, reflecting my deepest feelings in the form of a story.
It's just a tiny beginning as for right now, but I'm aiming to build on this foundation to write a full on book.

Feedback is apreciated :hugs:



The richest moments in life are those where you forget about all of the, by humans proclaimed, 'good'
things and only pay attention and lay your focus on the, by humans proclaimed, 'bad' things.

It is in these moments that you bound value to the good events which occur within your life time, as
without bad there wouldn't be such a thing as 'good'.

The bad empowers what result the good brings, the climax it causes in the moment itself. As such, when
ones life exists of the least amount of good, one must embrace these moments to their full potential.
One could even speculate that experiencing a lack of good could result in an embracement of all that is
evil, as evil would empower the result of the few moments left worth living for.

It would maintain the balance which would previously be overhang towards one side or another.

This speculation is what I took to develop the concept of this book, this story. True or not, it doesn't
make a difference if you think about it. A story is a story, information kept inside of your memory. Such
as a real event would cause memory to do.

This story revolves around Frank, the 'unluckiest' man in the universe, as an average fellow being of the
human race would proclaim him to be.


Frank . . you're tilting Frank . . don't tumble off Frank . .
Frank . . WAKE UP . .


Frank awoke from the edge of the universe he was on mere seconds ago. Ofcourse he knew this was but a
play of his imaginative visualization of thoughts, but still. It felt like a fresh memory, as fresh as
those memories that you unconciously bound to a certain scent which you experience during a good holiday
for example. A memory that you experience over and over again whenever you smell that scent. It feels
that fresh. As if it's real. But what is real? What would make this memory, this figment of Franks
imagination, more real than a leftover memory of a holiday from a couple of months or ever years ago?
It's but a collection of information, including either visuals, audio, scent, or a combination of the
three. Perhaps the entirety of this world Frank lives in is just a figment of his own imagination. A
memory. Which in theory, it is.


I woke up from a deep dream, feeling as if I had just gone through a hybernation of some sort. This
feeling got enhanced by the fact that I could still recall a very clear set of memories which took place
inside of this particular dream.


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