Once Upon A Time: A Critized, Informative, Story | Teen Ink

Once Upon A Time: A Critized, Informative, Story

May 10, 2009
By snc947 GOLD, Swansboro, North Carolina
snc947 GOLD, Swansboro, North Carolina
15 articles 10 photos 40 comments

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a kingdom named Rae and all who lived in the kingdom. . . . Yeah right. This story right here; how many times did you hear or see the words, “Once upon a time,” I mean, they’re supposed to capture your attention but it sounds too cliché. Seriously, people need to get a new beginning. For example,

On one summer night in the Kingdom of Rae, the land was struck with darkness. Deep blue shadows spread to every corner of the realm, tainting the air within the kingdoms walls. It captured the hope and faith of the people who relished off of the ideal harvest every year. His royal majesty, King Shasren, and his family fell to the hands of the darkness. It acted as a parasite, stealing everything, and destroying the rest.

The darkness killed every plant within miles of the castle and all that was left was thistles and briar. The kingdom of Rae had now come upon a time of terrible struggle. The darkness disappeared but it had left something worse. It was a plague that had enveloped the kingdoms people into a dreadful sickness, making the land of Rae a living disaster. The spell to fix the enigma was never found. Until now.

You see! That’s how it should go. Starting out with a problem that can’t be fixed then, BANG!!! It hits our main characters head that he or she should do something about it.

Simple, right? WRONG!

Our time has come to a farm boy in the next kingdom; the kingdom of Dore. The one kingdom that was strong enough to resist the plague because the doctors there gave everyone a vaccine a couple years back. Anyways, this particular farm boy, in fact did not want to be a farm boy. He was at the age of 15 and had raven black hair and dark green eyes. His skin looked porcelain and breakable. Not the skin of a hardworking farmer. His name was Carsen.

Now, Carsen was a. . . .let’s say. . . .a boy at heart. He liked to do what other boys his age did but his only guardian, his father, made him work in the field everyday from dawn till dusk. The only breaks he had ever gotten was at the time of the Great Harvest. This was when all of the harvested crops was taken us and sold in the market and where the farmers got to rest.

Unfortunately, the Great Harvest only lasted 56 seconds. But Carsen cherished those 56 seconds by quickly running to the fruit stand and eating an apple faster than you can say, “Get back to work!”

Now do you understand the importance of the beginning of a story? How the words you choose have to be carefully handpicked and cherished. Kind of like a little puppy. You have to take responsibility for it, take care of it, and play with it. Maybe that’s a bad analogy but the only point I’m trying to get across to you is that a story needs guidance by the author, hence ME. Authors are also important. If nobody ever read William Shakespeare, then this world would be a darker place than what it is now. But anyway, getting back to our main character;

The sun was rising high from the East, casting a beam of sunlight on Carsen’s never-tanning skin. Carsen looked up with a scowl on his face. The sun made his eyes see splotches of black, constraining his vision. Once again he started walking down the dirt road, ignoring the deep cutting ruts created by a passing wagon. They had been filled with rain and mud spurted out of one as he stepped into the puddle, staining his jeans. He was walking toward the next town. Redgimendville had a big reputation of people going missing and guess which town Carsen was walking to? Yup; you got that right.

Forests started to take both sides of the path as he walked forward; his dark green eyes darting back and forth. The road he had chosen was not the safest one. Robbers on horseback and stray unicorns also took this back road. Stray unicorns were not the easiest thing to run away from. Deaths occurred because of them daily and you would expect it to be so. The horn of a unicorn was a deadly weapon. Not many people know but a poison leaks from the tip just as the horn is thrust upward, penetrating into your rib cage. The last thing you see is the beast standing over you with rage in its eyes and your blood dripping from its horn.

Now that, is what I call chills running up and down your spine! The greatest thing about writing a ficticous story, is that you can take the most adorable creature on the planet, in this case a unicorn, and turn it into something so toxic and compelling, that it makes the reader think twice about the behavior of a mystical creature. And since it is mystical, you suddenly warp the reader’s conscience and make them think that maybe they had been wrong all along. Unicorns are dangerous and they don’t play nice.

As Carsen saw the tops of buildings coming into view, he sped his pace up, grateful to make a safe trip to Redgimendville. He could start to now hear the noise of the bells being tolled in the church and the strike of a hammer on hot iron in the blacksmiths shop. He counted the rings of the bell. Ten o’clock. He was right on time to go to the market to fetch some bread from the bakery, owned by Mrs. Fredricksen. The last time he had seen her, she was crawling over the Rae Kingdoms walls, carrying a child in her arms about the age of 4. The child’s name was named after her lands king, Shasren.

Now small cottages on the outskirts of the town were being passed as Carsen trudged on. An old woman was drinking tea at a wired table outside in her front yard garden. Daffodil and lavender scents enveloped him in a sweet aroma. The old woman waved hello and Carsen returned the gesture by slightly nodding and smiling. Smiling; something he had not done in a long time.

Now this is where things are supposed to get interesting; you know. Go into his memories of his past and see what he had to live through. Watching his mother and six year old sister die of influenza, his father never getting over their deaths, drinking himself sick and making Carsen take over the fields, making him work alone. But no. I am not going to give you the full descripted past of Carsen Herid. That would just be too boring and way too much by the “Book.” Which, I might add, is written by, “The Man.” The dude in charge.
Don’t Worry; There’s More to Come.


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This article has 1 comment.

BugzyTheCow said...
on May. 28 2009 at 10:09 pm
hahaha, this is so wrong. xD