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Literature Text
He began with a keyboard.
Quite the untraditional humble beginnings, mind you, but humble beginnings nonetheless.
He exchanged a few stories here and there with a friend that moved away, hoping the friend would approve. His friend returned with his own stories and compliments. Oh how he relished those compliments.
As it goes with friends that moved away back then, the two lost contact. Today, though, he keeps writing. He hopes and prays his words are good enough.
After the time of exchanging stories, he went through a period of nothing. Then, one day, he began again. He continued the tale from before. It was of a simple world where fantasy was no longer a dream and a set of armor could change the world. Looking back, he realized it wasn't the best tale. He could probably rewrite it today and make it much better.
But those are beginnings. A boy typing to his friend. The first world he created consumed him. He lived in that world until the day he finished his story. He also finished the story about the same time his world fell apart. He suddenly realized he had to grow up quickly.
Another period of silence.
He returned to the pen two years later. He was no longer a boy. He was a young man. He began to write and pray for the best. Then, words began to weave their way from his pen. He relived the days of that world he made. Now he had the means to do it again. Except, this time, he wanted to make a world that would draw others in. He wanted them to thirst for his next word like a lost man in a desert thirsts for water.
He longed to become a writer worth noting. He wanted with all that he had to impress people time and time again. He wanted to create pieces worthy of applause and proud smiles of the ones he loved.
So, he did.
Quite the untraditional humble beginnings, mind you, but humble beginnings nonetheless.
He exchanged a few stories here and there with a friend that moved away, hoping the friend would approve. His friend returned with his own stories and compliments. Oh how he relished those compliments.
As it goes with friends that moved away back then, the two lost contact. Today, though, he keeps writing. He hopes and prays his words are good enough.
After the time of exchanging stories, he went through a period of nothing. Then, one day, he began again. He continued the tale from before. It was of a simple world where fantasy was no longer a dream and a set of armor could change the world. Looking back, he realized it wasn't the best tale. He could probably rewrite it today and make it much better.
But those are beginnings. A boy typing to his friend. The first world he created consumed him. He lived in that world until the day he finished his story. He also finished the story about the same time his world fell apart. He suddenly realized he had to grow up quickly.
Another period of silence.
He returned to the pen two years later. He was no longer a boy. He was a young man. He began to write and pray for the best. Then, words began to weave their way from his pen. He relived the days of that world he made. Now he had the means to do it again. Except, this time, he wanted to make a world that would draw others in. He wanted them to thirst for his next word like a lost man in a desert thirsts for water.
He longed to become a writer worth noting. He wanted with all that he had to impress people time and time again. He wanted to create pieces worthy of applause and proud smiles of the ones he loved.
So, he did.
The Landscape Drop
A place where I will drop exclusive landscapes that are influenced by popular video games and movies and/or just bizarre alternate realities. This is a Safe For Work Tier
$3/month
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This is how I, as a writer, came to be.
© 2011 - 2024 The-Epic-Chris
Comments1
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I think this is just purely amazing. I'm not sure why, but I love the way you write. You remind of Dean Koontz for some strange reason, this is a compliment.