Question

If you are writing a story, or novel, tell me what its about and who the characters are and what they do. Maybe even tell me the moral/s of the story or novel. A summary of the story would be cool too. I'm kinda bored now so...I just wanna see what other people are writing :p. I just think it would be cool to know what other ppl are writing ig... THANK YOU!​

Answer 1

Answer:

Ryan and the great clock. (btw im making this up on the top of my mind)

Explanation:

The story is about how time goes quickly, but ryan becomes selfish and decides to make a wish and  make time no longer exist! But he wakes up in a white empty abius. Beyond lays a giant clock, which was no longer had the hour hand, so he began he quest to find the hour hand. the moral is uhh, dont be selfish i guess- (lol this story is bad-)

Answer 2

Answer:

"Do you believe that one's life, or parts of one's life, would end by the last bits of their youth?"

"I don't know. Parts, that means something still lives on, though." I cannot tell what is her definition of 'youth', or 'end.'

...

But it wasn't the next winter, spring or fall, that something between us bloomed. Perhaps it had been lurking there since forever, until the sudden realization hit me hard like a truck the way puberty had hit her. It was the burning May, strangely hot and wet at the same time, when we first planted stolen kisses under the curtain of pouring rain, locked fingers, and shared embraces where suddenly a hand on each other's hips was totally acceptable. We had always been by one another's side for quite a while that it's rather strange to imagine it would evolve into something else.

We had kept our story a secret, a secret divulged only within our small circle of friends a month after things started (quite literally a closed circle of friends, in which there were no more openings to any others). Perhaps I liked it better that way. Perhaps I was afraid. What was I afraid of? Perhaps of how it will end, as a bud would bloom and die in the nick of time. Life is full of possibilities, life is full of "perhaps". Perhaps she would leave me one day.

That one day, as I had been informed shortly after we started dating, ironically by my mother (who knew nothing about our actual relationship), came way sooner than we both had anticipated.

I began planting flowers. One for each passing day.

...

"Forget-me-not." She suddenly turned over to her side to face me, a little smile crept up, stretching her thin lips into a crescent shape.  

"As literal as its name, I assume."

There was no more exchange of words after that. We fell into silence, rolled over on our backs, leaving nature to its own motley of a melody.  

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So I've been trying to finish this little piece I started a while ago. Here are just some lines from it. I don't know if I really intended for it to have a specific or deep moral, but basically it's about youth, young love, and the transition into adulthood.