Theyve been spending most their lives Living in a future paradise Theyve been looking in their minds For the day that sorrows gone from time They keep telling of the day When the savior of love will come to stay
Tell me who of them will come to be How many of them are you and me Proclamation Of race relations Consolation Integretion Verification Of revelations Acclamation World salvation Vibrations Stimulation Confirmation...to the peace of the world
Theyve been spending most their lives Living in a future paradise Weve been spending too much of our lives Living in a pastime paradise
Lets start living our lives Living for the future paradise Praise to our lives Living for the future paradise Shame to anyones lives Living in the pastime paradise
Here is another one: The world's most famous scientist, finally, finished building his time machine. He returned 60 years before and killed his grandfather; all of this have never really happened because the scientist has never born.
Buster, hate to burst yrou bubble but that is a poem, this is a SHORT STORY competition. Last time I checked short stories can have poetic imagery but NOT be an actual poem, sorry.
did the person who create this ever think about how small 100 words is as far as a story goes?I guess I could write something later,but for right now I have nothing to write about.
[story]There once was a man name Sebastian. He was a wise man, one whom lived through a lot for being a simple age of 24.
On his 14th birthday he witnessed one of the most horrific things he was to ever see, the murder of a helpless, poor, old man.
He saw himself within that man, he saw his past and future, but not the present. For he, himself did not know who he was. On the day he discovered himself it was to late. His secrets vanished, forever by his side.[/story]
That was hard! Agh, I wanted to go so in depth with it, but I couldn't! But yeah. It makes no sense, or does it?
Once there was a guy called sense. He went on the internet, to armorgames.com. He wrote some short story, because there was a thread about them, and he hoped that he would write a good one. Sense waited to be judged on his story, and couldn't figure out how many words there were, in his story, because he couldn't count. But he liked the sound of 300 words, better the 100 words.
