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Rays of the Sun

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Rays of the Sun Empty Rays of the Sun

Post by ~AutumnZephyr~ Thu Aug 12, 2010 9:34 pm

Okay, so like here is a story I wrote a while ago for a friend... Im planning on getting it published, but you guys get to read it first, enjoy... sweet
And turtles better not repost this.. Sweat

Rays of the Sun
The dawn brought rays of golden light, streaming from a half-hidden sun, in a rosy pink sky. They stung the eyes and dazzled the artistic senses of the figure standing in the center of the Meridian. The Meridian was an octagonal plaza that was located in the center of the Upper Campus of Atlantic North High School. Although the name Atlantic North High School referred to the high school, it often was used to include both Lower and Upper Campuses. In the Upper campus was the Meridian, Atlantic North High School, the library, and the clubrooms. The Lower Campus includes the dormitories, Atlantic Village Middle School, Wild Canyon Elementary School, the Administrative Building and the Clocktower.
However the figure standing in the Meridian was not concerned about this. He was in fact dazzled by the golden rays of the sunrise reflecting off the dew that hung on the plants of the Tower of the Hanging Garden. All the droplets refracted and split the light into millions of rainbows, so that the tower itself looked as if its seven levels connected Heaven and Earth.
A noise behind him aroused the Storyteller from his stupor. Turning he found Takeru, a second-year working at the cafe across the way, setting up for opening. Takeru waved to the Storyteller and went back to his work. The Storyteller shook his head in disappointment, nobody seemed to stop and appreciate the natural wonders of world these days...

*****
The wind blew threw the trees as the Storyteller began his story and as the climax grew so did the crowd and the winds ferocity, until it howled like wolves on a hunt. Suddenly the wind was culled and the story came to a light and easy ending, as if carried on the spring breeze that blew threw the Meridian. Soon the crowd dispersed, without so much as a hint of a clap or a whisper of gratitude or marvel. In fact, the only thing that was even said about the Storyteller or his stories was that he was "a crazy old man, full of crazy stories." With a sigh and some disappointment, the Storyteller began another tale.
Each story the Storyteller told had adventure, a hero or a heroine, perhaps some magic or love, sometime a happy ending, sometimes not. Yet, each was told with a vigor and such imagery that every listener could feel as if they were in the story. The wind rolled as he lay out the scenes, the air shimmered as if spun by his gesturing fingers, and the sounds of the Meridian were replaced by that of an elder world. And some who listened felt the air before them as if to touch the world that the words described.
However after every story, the crowd would awaken from the trance and shrug and go about their daily lives. No sign of gratitude, fascination, nor wonder remained after the story had been told. Neither thoughts nor contemplation about what had happened between beginning, middle, and end. No, in fact many forgot that the Storyteller existed until they next encountered him in the Meridian. He had become just another part of the scenery, taken for granted. The only student who even took the time to say a greeting was Takeru, and even that was brief in its length.
The setting sun signaled the end of the day, as well as the end of the Storyteller's stories. The last crowd of the day broke up, their conversations turning to plans of the next day. Bowing down to gather his sitting mat and messenger bag, the Storyteller heard a weak cough from behind him. Her got up to find a young girl, hair as dark as ebony and stature that of a mouse. The pallor in her skin suggested that she stayed indoors more than she was outdoors. Her face, although childish, showed that she very knowledgeable. The golden-rimmed glasses she wore, hinted that she had spent many a night reading past sundown. All in all, the Storyteller guessed she was a bookworm, probably a second-year at the middle school.
"Excuse me," the young girl said, "You seem quite knowledgeable. Have you lived here long?"
"Long?" the Storyteller replied, scratching his head. "Hmm... I have been here since the day the school opened, twenty years ago.
" In fact, I was a student here at one time. I was here when First President Atlanta was killed and when the Meridian was still in the development stages. I have been here for twenty years and everything that has come to pass on this campus, I have heard about or seen." the Storyteller continued. " Knowledgeable I am in only the lore of this school. Of the outside world I know nothing, for I have not left these grounds since I first arrived."
"Have you no family outside the ANHS?" asked the girl.
"No." replied the Storyteller, "In fact nobody even knows who I am or my name, not even First Secretary Takimoto, who is three years my elder. In fact, besides First Secretary Takimoto, I am probably the oldest person on campus. At least that that has been on campus the most years..."
"Really?" the young girl asked, face glowing curiosity. "Oh no, it's already past sundown. The dorm mother is going to be mad at me... See you tomorrow!"
And with that the girl ran towards the dorms, still waving. The Storyteller waved back, until the young girl was swallowed up by the growing dusk.

*****
From that day on, every week the young girl came at least once to hear the Storyteller weave the stories of the past. Even after the day was done, she would often stay and talk to him until dusk. Oddly enough he never found out what her name was. It was peculiar, the Storyteller felt as if he was somebody again, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. He was happy, he had found someone who appreciated him and his knowledge.
One week however, the girl did not come. The week turned into a month, and soon the Storyteller began to worry. One day, after finishing his last story of the day, he caught Takeru before he left and asked whether he knew about the girl.
“You mean Rose?” replied Takeru, eyes raised in surprise. “ You haven’t heard? She is in the hospital again.”
“Hospital?” asked the Storyteller “What for?”
“Apparently she has a chronic sickness.” Replied Takeru, his usually carefree expression darkening.
“She has been ill since she was five years old, but the sickness seems to come and go. She switches between being healthy and deathly ill, “weak-bodied” they say. I hear this time the illness has come on her quite bad…” explained Takeru, shrugging.

*****
The beams of rising moon silhouetting his figure, Storyteller arrived at the campus hospital out of breath. Looking around the bustling lobby, he found the receptionist. He clumsily made his way over to the desk, bumping into several hurrying doctors and nurses along the way, and asked for Rose’s room number.
“Rose Kurenai?” asked the receptionist, peering over her computer monitor, “Mhm… Room 113, down that hallway, on the right-hand side.”
The Storyteller muttered a quick “Thanks!” and briskly walked in the direction the receptionist had indicated.
Upon entering the room, the Storyteller felt as if he had walked into one of his own stories. A doctor in an immaculate white lab coat stood by the bed in the back of the room. He was studying one of the various screens by the bed and marking on the clipboard he held, frowning in discontent.
The patient, frail looking, tugged on the doctor’s sleeve. The doctor turned and came closer to the patient’s face, so as to hear better. Snapping out of his trance, the Storyteller realized that the patient was in fact Rose. The doctor laughed and reassuringly patted Rose on the head in answer to what must have been a question of how well she was. The Storyteller heard from the doorway a simple “Everything is going to be all right.” And moved aside as the doctor got up to leave.
Brushing against the Storyteller, the doctor looked up from his clipboard.
“Oh, hello. I would ask if you were one of her relatives, but you obviously aren’t, are you?” the doctor said, smiling sadly.
“What is her illness sir?” asked the Storyteller
“Hmmm… Well, we do not believe she will last the night. Then again that is what I said yesterday and she still is here.” Replied the doctor, laughing a humorless laugh, “She has a will of tempered steel, though she may not look it. We cannot be sure, but I believe she may have what I call Fortune’s Curse…”
“Fortune’s Curse?” asked the Storyteller, “You mean the illness that only seems to appear once in a hundred patients? The illness that is said to affect even those of strong mind and body? One which appears as just bad luck?”
“Wow, you’re quite knowledgeable in medic-lore, aren’t you!” exclaimed the doctor in surprise, “But yes, that is the one… The patient goes through a rollercoaster of health and sickness, and the illness affects strong and weak alike. Causes are unknown, perhaps genetic, nobody knows…
“All we can do is treat the symptoms and pray…” said the doctor with a sad smile.
The doctor shuffled past, patting the Storyteller on the back as he went. The Storyteller quietly walked into the room. Hearing the soft shuffle and squeak of his rudder soles on the linoleum, Rose sat up.
“Oh hello, Mr. Storyteller!” said Rose with an obviously strained smile, “How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you,” replied the Storyteller, “I hear you are sick.”
“Haha, not really…” laughed Rose, a flicker of pain passing over her face as she did so, “Doctors, always trying to convince you you’re sick, even when you aren’t.”
“I see… That is good to hear.” said the Storyteller.
“I would ask for a story from you, but I am tired and you look like you are too… Go rest and come back tomorrow, okay?” said Rose, a smile lighting her face.

*****
The sun rose and the flowers outside the campus hospital turned to greet it. Rose opened her eyes and was temporarily blinded by the bright light emanating from her window. Her eyes adjusted and she saw a figure silhouetted in the window.
“Good morning!” greeted the Storyteller, moving away from the window and towards Rose’s bed. “They wouldn’t let me in the front door, so I climbed in your window.”
The Storyteller was still in his soft leather vest and faded blue jeans, but he looked as if he rolled down a large, wooded hill. He was covered in dirt and bits of leaves, like someone who had gone through a thick wood. Rose’s face went from surprised to amused and she laughed. She laughed and laughed until her side hurt and she couldn’t breath. All the while the Storyteller stood next to her bed, bewildered.
“What… happened… to… you?” Rose choked out, trying to regain her breath. “Did you run through a forest or something?”
“No… But I did bring a story.” replied the Storyteller. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course!” exclaimed Rose, still wiping the tears from her eyes.
The Storyteller sat down on the stool next to her bed and stretched as one would for sore muscles.
“Okay, the tower in the middle of the Meridian, do you know it?” asked the Storyteller.
“The Tower of the Hanging Garden? Yes, you have mentioned it several times before.” replied Rose.
“Right, let me tell you a story about it, mind you this is a true story.” said the Storyteller.
He cracked his neck, cleared his throat and began.
“A long time ago, even before ANHS was built, the Tower of the Hanging Garden was here. A masterpiece to many, every artist came to see it once in his or her lifetime. It was beautiful in both architecture as well as in nature. Nobody knows who originally built it or for what purpose, but it was here first and will always be here.
“One day, a wandering Shinto priest came to the Tower and recognized that it was a perfect example of nature and humans living in harmony. He decided to build a small village around it, which in turn became this school. The library and the Hall of Honor are actually the only remaining buildings from the original village he built. I was here when the school first opened. So I know much that has been lost since those days…
“Not many people have been in the Tower itself, not since the school was built. Besides the Student Council and a few others none are allowed, nor have much interest in the Tower. Although few know it now, it was said that many a rare plant could be found in the Tower, many of which can no longer be found anywhere else. One such plant, is said to be able to cure bad luck. It is known as the Fukusho, the Bell of Good Fortune, named after its golden bell shaped flower, it grows only on the top most level of the Tower, where it can capture both the first and last rays of the sun. In order to get to the top of the Tower though, one must traverse all seven levels of unknown plants and foliage. Some levels are said to even have man-eating plants. Thus, few have seen the Fukusho, and even less have obtained a flower.”
The Storyteller ended his story and pulled from his pouch a single golden, bell-shaped flower. Rose’s eyes widened in surprise.
“But how did you…?” whispered Rose, in awe. “ I thought you said only members of the Student Council were allowed in the Tower of the Hanging Garden…”
“I said the Student Council and a few others.” replied the Storyteller, smiling mischievously. “It took me a lot more time and effort than I expected. Those man-eating plants are really hard to get by and the place is like a maze, the stairs are never in the same place…”
The Storyteller leaned forward and placed the Fukusho flower in Rose’s lap.
“For me?” asked Rose.
The Storyteller nodded and Rose began to cry. She cried and cried, not out of sadness, but out of joy. And as her tears fell into her lap, they caught the sun’s rays and refracted them into rainbows.

*****
Tomeshi Kitabe ended his story and then fell silent, awaiting a verdict from his audience.
“I really like the story.” said the girl across the table from him. “It is a very good story Tomeshi, but why am I sick in the story?”
“Oh I thought it brought… flavor to the story.” Replied Tomeshi. “Plus, you and my older brother were the only two people I could think of to put in…”
Rose shook her head, laughing. A boy, hair silver-white like that of an old man, walked up the table.
“Not fighting again are we?” He jested. “Or perhaps getting all lovey-dovey?”
“Cut it out Takeru!” exclaimed Tomeshi, swiping at the hand ruffling his hair.
“Just looking out for my little bro.” laughed Takeru “Oh, and Rose shouldn’t be getting back to the dorms soon? It’s almost sundown.”
“Yup, just enjoying the last rays of the sun.” replied Rose.
She looked towards the large tower that stood in the middle of the plaza. As she did so, the sky turned from rosy pink to deep purple and setting sun’s rays flashed like streams of golden fire across deepening shadows.


Last edited by ~AutumnZephyr~ on Mon Oct 29, 2012 12:54 am; edited 1 time in total
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Post by onigirimi Sun Aug 15, 2010 5:32 pm

Aw that was sweet. The ending surprised me o:
At least that means Rose isn't gonna die... TwT;;

By the way, in the green paragraph you made a tiny typo and put 'threw the trees' instead of 'through the trees' Razz

GJ I liked it!! 8D You're getting it published? :D
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Post by ~AutumnZephyr~ Sun Aug 15, 2010 5:36 pm

Ya.. Idk, when tho, I'm waiting on my friend to call me... ;w;
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Post by onigirimi Mon Aug 16, 2010 7:10 am

That's so cool!! *o*
Where are you publishing it?
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Post by ~AutumnZephyr~ Mon Aug 16, 2010 10:36 am

In a samll anthology with some of my other friends' short stories/ poems
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Post by onigirimi Mon Aug 16, 2010 6:51 pm

Whoa. o___o nice
Good luck to you guys! ^__^
Let me know when it's published, maybe I'll buy it 8D
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Post by ~AutumnZephyr~ Mon Aug 16, 2010 6:54 pm

haha, it's a small publish, so you probably wont see it unless you go to my old hs or to the library there... Razz

It was for a club so....
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Post by Murasaki Hana Tue Aug 09, 2011 1:20 pm

~AutumnZephyr~ wrote:Okay, so like here is a story I wrote a while ago for a friend... Im planning on getting it published, but you guys get to read it first, enjoy... sweet
And turtles better not repost this.. Sweat

Rays of the Sun
The dawn brought rays of golden light, streaming from a half-hidden sun, in a rosy pink sky. They stung the eyes and dazzled the artistic senses of the figure standing in the center of the Meridian. The Meridian was an octagonal plaza that was located in the center of the Upper Campus of Atlantic North High School. Although the name Atlantic North High School referred to the high school, it often was used to include both Lower and Upper Campuses. In the Upper campus was the Meridian, Atlantic North High School, the library, and the clubrooms. The Lower Campus includes the dormitories, Atlantic Village Middle School, Wild Canyon Elementary School, the Administrative Building and the Clocktower.
However the figure standing in the Meridian was not concerned about this. He was in fact dazzled by the golden rays of the sunrise reflecting off the dew that hung on the plants of the Tower of the Hanging Garden. All the droplets refracted and split the light into millions of rainbows, so that the tower itself looked as if its seven levels connected Heaven and Earth.
A noise behind him aroused the Storyteller from his stupor. Turning he found Takeru, a second-year working at the cafe across the way, setting up for opening. Takeru waved to the Storyteller and went back to his work. The Storyteller shook his head in disappointment, nobody seemed to stop and appreciate the natural wonders of world these days...

*****
The wind blew threw the trees as the Storyteller began his story and as the climax grew so did the crowd and the winds ferocity, until it howled like wolves on a hunt. Suddenly the wind was culled and the story came to a light and easy ending, as if carried on the spring breeze that blew threw the Meridian. Soon the crowd dispersed, without so much as a hint of a clap or a whisper of gratitude or marvel. In fact, the only thing that was even said about the Storyteller or his stories was that he was "a crazy old man, full of crazy stories." With a sigh and some disappointment, the Storyteller began another tale.
Each story the Storyteller told had adventure, a hero or a heroine, perhaps some magic or love, sometime a happy ending, sometimes not. Yet, each was told with a vigor and such imagery that every listener could feel as if they were in the story. The wind rolled as he lay out the scenes, the air shimmered as if spun by his gesturing fingers, and the sounds of the Meridian were replaced by that of an elder world. And some who listened felt the air before them as if to touch the world that the words described.
However after every story, the crowd would awaken from the trance and shrug and go about their daily lives. No sign of gratitude, fascination, nor wonder remained after the story had been told. Neither thoughts nor contemplation about what had happened between beginning, middle, and end. No, in fact many forgot that the Storyteller existed until they next encountered him in the Meridian. He had become just another part of the scenery, taken for granted. The only student who even took the time to say a greeting was Takeru, and even that was brief in its length.
The setting sun signaled the end of the day, as well as the end of the Storyteller's stories. The last crowd of the day broke up, their conversations turning to plans of the next day. Bowing down to gather his sitting mat and messenger bag, the Storyteller heard a weak cough from behind him. Her got up to find a young girl, hair as dark as ebony and stature that of a mouse. The pallor in her skin suggested that she stayed indoors more than she was outdoors. Her face, although childish, showed that she very knowledgeable. The golden-rimmed glasses she wore, hinted that she had spent many a night reading past sundown. All in all, the Storyteller guessed she was a bookworm, probably a second-year at the middle school.
"Excuse me," the young girl said, "You seem quite knowledgeable. Have you lived here long?"
"Long?" the Storyteller replied, scratching his head. "Hmm... I have been here since the day the school opened, twenty years ago.
" In fact, I was a student here at one time. I was here when First President Atlanta was killed and when the Meridian was still in the development stages. I have been here for twenty years and everything that has come to pass on this campus, I have heard about or seen." the Storyteller continued. " Knowledgeable I am in only the lore of this school. Of the outside world I know nothing, for I have not left these grounds since I first arrived."
"Have you no family outside the ANHS?" asked the girl.
"No." replied the Storyteller, "In fact nobody even knows who I am or my name, not even First Secretary Takimoto, who is three years my elder. In fact, besides First Secretary Takimoto, I am probably the oldest person on campus. At least that that has been on campus the most years..."
"Really?" the young girl asked, face glowing curiosity. "Oh no, it's already past sundown. The dorm mother is going to be mad at me... See you tomorrow!"
And with that the girl ran towards the dorms, still waving. The Storyteller waved back, until the young girl was swallowed up by the growing dusk.

*****
From that day on, every week the young girl came at least once to hear the Storyteller weave the stories of the past. Even after the day was done, she would often stay and talk to him until dusk. Oddly enough he never found out what her name was. It was peculiar, the Storyteller felt as if he was somebody again, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. He was happy, he had found someone who appreciated him and his knowledge.
One week however, the girl did not come. The week turned into a month, and soon the Storyteller began to worry. One day, after finishing his last story of the day, he caught Takeru before he left and asked whether he knew about the girl.
“You mean Rose?” replied Takeru, eyes raised in surprise. “ You haven’t heard? She is in the hospital again.”
“Hospital?” asked the Storyteller “What for?”
“Apparently she has a chronic sickness.” Replied Takeru, his usually carefree expression darkening.
“She has been ill since she was five years old, but the sickness seems to come and go. She switches between being healthy and deathly ill, “weak-bodied” they say. I hear this time the illness has come on her quite bad…” explained Takeru, shrugging.

*****
The beams of rising moon silhouetting his figure, Storyteller arrived at the campus hospital out of breath. Looking around the bustling lobby, he found the receptionist. He clumsily made his way over to the desk, bumping into several hurrying doctors and nurses along the way, and asked for Rose’s room number.
“Rose Kurenai?” asked the receptionist, peering over her computer monitor, “Mhm… Room 113, down that hallway, on the right-hand side.”
The Storyteller muttered a quick “Thanks!” and briskly walked in the direction the receptionist had indicated.
Upon entering the room, the Storyteller felt as if he had walked into one of his own stories. A doctor in an immaculate white lab coat stood by the bed in the back of the room. He was studying one of the various screens by the bed and marking on the clipboard he held, frowning in discontent.
The patient, frail looking, tugged on the doctor’s sleeve. The doctor turned and came closer to the patient’s face, so as to hear better. Snapping out of his trance, the Storyteller realized that the patient was in fact Rose. The doctor laughed and reassuringly patted Rose on the head in answer to what must have been a question of how well she was. The Storyteller heard from the doorway a simple “Everything is going to be all right.” And moved aside as the doctor got up to leave.
Brushing against the Storyteller, the doctor looked up from his clipboard.
“Oh, hello. I would ask if you were one of her relatives, but you obviously aren’t, are you?” the doctor said, smiling sadly.
“What is her illness sir?” asked the Storyteller
“Hmmm… Well, we do not believe she will last the night. Then again that is what I said yesterday and she still is here.” Replied the doctor, laughing a humorless laugh, “She has a will of tempered steel, though she may not look it. We cannot be sure, but I believe she may have what I call Fortune’s Curse…”
“Fortune’s Curse?” asked the Storyteller, “You mean the illness that only seems to appear once in a hundred patients? The illness that is said to affect even those of strong mind and body? One which appears as just bad luck?”
“Wow, you’re quite knowledgeable in medic-lore, aren’t you!” exclaimed the doctor in surprise, “But yes, that is the one… The patient goes through a rollercoaster of health and sickness, and the illness affects strong and weak alike. Causes are unknown, perhaps genetic, nobody knows…
“All we can do is treat the symptoms and pray…” said the doctor with a sad smile.
The doctor shuffled past, patting the Storyteller on the back as he went. The Storyteller quietly walked into the room. Hearing the soft shuffle and squeak of his rudder soles on the linoleum, Rose sat up.
“Oh hello, Mr. Storyteller!” said Rose with an obviously strained smile, “How are you today?”
“Fine, thank you,” replied the Storyteller, “I hear you are sick.”
“Haha, not really…” laughed Rose, a flicker of pain passing over her face as she did so, “Doctors, always trying to convince you you’re sick, even when you aren’t.”
“I see… That is good to hear.” said the Storyteller.
“I would ask for a story from you, but I am tired and you look like you are too… Go rest and come back tomorrow, okay?” said Rose, a smile lighting her face.

*****
The sun rose and the flowers outside the campus hospital turned to greet it. Rose opened her eyes and was temporarily blinded by the bright light emanating from her window. Her eyes adjusted and she saw a figure silhouetted in the window.
“Good morning!” greeted the Storyteller, moving away from the window and towards Rose’s bed. “They wouldn’t let me in the front door, so I climbed in your window.”
The Storyteller was still in his soft leather vest and faded blue jeans, but he looked as if he rolled down a large, wooded hill. He was covered in dirt and bits of leaves, like someone who had gone through a thick wood. Rose’s face went from surprised to amused and she laughed. She laughed and laughed until her side hurt and she couldn’t breath. All the while the Storyteller stood next to her bed, bewildered.
“What… happened… to… you?” Rose choked out, trying to regain her breath. “Did you run through a forest or something?”
“No… But I did bring a story.” replied the Storyteller. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course!” exclaimed Rose, still wiping the tears from her eyes.
The Storyteller sat down on the stool next to her bed and stretched as one would for sore muscles.
“Okay, the tower in the middle of the Meridian, do you know it?” asked the Storyteller.
“The Tower of the Hanging Garden? Yes, you have mentioned it several times before.” replied Rose.
“Right, let me tell you a story about it, mind you this is a true story.” said the Storyteller.
He cracked his neck, cleared his throat and began.
“A long time ago, even before ANHS was built, the Tower of the Hanging Garden was here. A masterpiece to many, every artist came to see it once in his or her lifetime. It was beautiful in both architecture as well as in nature. Nobody knows who originally built it or for what purpose, but it was here first and will always be here.
“One day, a wandering Shinto priest came to the Tower and recognized that it was a perfect example of nature and humans living in harmony. He decided to build a small village around it, which in turn became this school. The library and the Hall of Honor are actually the only remaining buildings from the original village he built. I was here when the school first opened. So I know much that has been lost since those days…
“Not many people have been in the Tower itself, not since the school was built. Besides the Student Council and a few others none are allowed, nor have much interest in the Tower. Although few know it now, it was said that many a rare plant could be found in the Tower, many of which can no longer be found anywhere else. One such plant, is said to be able to cure bad luck. It is known as the Fukusho, the Bell of Good Fortune, named after its golden bell shaped flower, it grows only on the top most level of the Tower, where it can capture both the first and last rays of the sun. In order to get to the top of the Tower though, one must traverse all seven levels of unknown plants and foliage. Some levels are said to even have man-eating plants. Thus, few have seen the Fukusho, and even less have obtained a flower.”
The Storyteller ended his story and pulled from his pouch a single golden, bell-shaped flower. Rose’s eyes widened in surprise.
“But how did you…?” whispered Rose, in awe. “ I thought you said only members of the Student Council were allowed in the Tower of the Hanging Garden…”
“I said the Student Council and a few others.” replied the Storyteller, smiling mischievously. “It took me a lot more time and effort than I expected. Those man-eating plants are really hard to get by and the place is like a maze, the stairs are never in the same place…”
The Storyteller leaned forward and placed the Fukusho flower in Rose’s lap.
“For me?” asked Rose.
The Storyteller nodded and Rose began to cry. She cried and cried, not out of sadness, but out of joy. And as her tears fell into her lap, they caught the sun’s rays and refracted them into rainbows.

*****
Tomeshi Kitabe ended his story and then fell silent, awaiting a verdict from his audience.
“I really like the story.” said the girl across the table from him. “It is a very good story Tomeshi, but why am I sick in the story?”
“Oh I thought it brought… flavor to the story.” Replied Tomeshi. “Plus, you and my older brother were the only two people I could think of to put in…”
Rose shook her head, laughing. A boy, hair silver-white like that of an old man, walked up the table.
“Not fighting again are we?” He jested. “Or perhaps getting all lovey-dovey?”
“Cut it out Takeru!” exclaimed Tomeshi, swiping at the hand ruffling his hair.
“Just looking out for my little bro.” laughed Takeru “Oh, and Rose shouldn’t be getting back to the dorms soon? It’s almost sundown.”
“Yup, just enjoying the last rays of the sun.” replied Rose.
She looked towards the large tower that stood in the middle of the plaza. As she did so, the sky turned from rosy pink to deep purple and setting sun’s rays flashed like streams of golden fire across deepening shadows.
[/font]

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I REPOSTED IT!! XD

Lovely story, btw. I got confused at the end but then I realized that the entire thing was a story. The colors really gave a nice atmosphere, but sometimes it hurt my eyes/was hard to read (ex. yellow). Your descriptions are very detailed and I enjoyed reading those parts. There was one thing that bothered me, and it was the description of Rose. You used the word "knowledgeable" twice in the same paragraph, or something like that. It's a minor detail, but I'm a pricker for those *evil smirk*

Perhaps you could split this into shorter chapters and elaborate more. You could add in a little first point of view of the Storyteller when he was in the Tower of Hanging Garden. Did you get that from the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the world?

These are all just suggestions. I really loved reading this!! Grammar, punctuation and spelling is accurate and your vocab range wasn't bad, either. Thanks for sharing this with everyone on the forum!
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Post by vampirebitesxx Thu Aug 11, 2011 1:56 am

Huh, what about me reposting....

Im not sure if your talking about me coz there only one vampirebitesxx and which is me... I only do lyrics transcribing.... but dont write stories coz i suck a grammar so bad. But i did wrote my own story in 2008 on quizilla but i took it down in 2009. but if you type vampirebitesxx on google...i can give proof of what i do from 2007-2011

Unless it someone.. who uses the same username as me....

Just seeing my unsername up there... really put me in a situtation that i've done something wrong.. T^T
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Post by michi3dayo Thu Aug 11, 2011 7:43 am

ano,wtf? And michi3dayo better not repost this.. Sweat wTF I dont know you O_o? besides I didnt had a youtube or ytc account o.o when ya posted this?
so why musnt I repost this?
hm? .-. explain it to me ,in details =A=
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Post by Mpnightmare Thu Aug 11, 2011 8:08 am

what are you talking about don't repost goes to read
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Post by [★] Winter Thu Aug 11, 2011 8:12 am

Good job at bringing a year-old thread back to life...=w=);
You guys are swell.

It's BBCodes, guys. It's not something you should be going head-over-heels about.
In other words, it's a trick, so think nothing of it.
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Post by vampirebitesxx Thu Aug 11, 2011 11:39 am

^ bb code huh, i least the writer should change the sentence.... like to " No Reposting please" then "name no reposting" .
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Post by NovayaShuyin Mon Jan 28, 2013 3:34 pm

Ahhh I remember this one, way back in the day. It's a nice story (:
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