?

Lets say, if someone got a flu or a fever, can that person eat chocolate? Or is it not reccomended?

I am writing a story with main theme revolving around the taste of dark chocolate, or more specifically, bitter sweet chocolate. I want to hear some experience of the taste of bittersweet chocolate, to understand better how it should really taste like. Does it actually taste a little bit bitter and sweet? Or it has a sweet taste at first and then a bitter aftertaste?

I ate some "bittersweet chocolate" before, and my only impression is that it is just plain bitter.

You know how some people say a good story need to be written with at least 1000 words? This is an experiment of telling a story with less than 400 words. Tell me what you think of it.

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A Million Snowflakes

I never knew the city would look so beautiful from up here today. In this silently still dawn, the winter sun is slowly raising between the skyscrapers, casting its feeble daylight to the buildings below with pretence of warmth. And dancing in this light, are a million snow flakes, glittering and fluttering with the freezing December wind, making the city seems to sparkles with little stars. I take another step toward them. Now, I am at the edge of the hospital roof, and the only thing that stands between me and the open air is a short fence. At one time, she was here with me. She was not very sick then. Together, we sent a million wishes through the snow flakes, in hope of a future with each other. But she never recovered after that day. And today, I am the only one here to watch the snowflakes falling, the only one left in this world...Another step. The sky seems so close. The wind is blowing behind my back, nudging me forward. It is so cold. I could no longer feel my freezing body. I could no longer feel anything anymore...A leap. A million wishes. A million snowflakes. A tormented soul. All comes falling, crying, crashing on to the cold hard ground.

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Maybe next time I will try to write with less than 200 words. The total words count was 216...Just 16 words extra, darn it.

P.s: It is ok if you do not get what is going on. This is just an experiment in writing.

Debate question for my public speaking class, and as I have not been assign a point to stand for, I need to play both sides right now for pratice. Best help would be if you can give me a point supporting on both of these theses:

a) Humans are naturally evil.

b) Humans are naturally good.

For the sake of the debate, good and evil are defined respectively as commonly accepted acts(e.g saving life) and commonly rejected acts(e.g murder).

P.s(unrelated): I really hate how I often forced to speak against what I believe in this class, but...I guess it is life.

Days and days I browse through the web

Searching for a spark of ingenuity

But all I see, is the death of imagination

The fall of creativity, the end of newness

O, despair!

Crippled are the minds of our youth,

Broken wings of originality.

Wherefore should I give you my wings,

When you don't even know how to fly?

Forget it.

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I have just returned to B&A today. It have been a while, everyone.

This poem is meant to be a reply to all the people who asks others to think for them/do their homework/write something for them before trying to do it themselves. Not meant for those who had actually show some efforts.

What do you think?

How can one writes words of love

Without even falling in love first?

How can one writes good romance

Before falling out of love, alive?

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Best answer will be chosen by the ingenuity of the answer. If you can have one answer for both of the questions, that is a bonus.

My little short story doesn't have a real name, and it is sad. Please find a good name for it. =)

Since 1,817 words(about 9,000 characters) would never fit in Y!A, my story is taking refuge in a writing forum, if you don't mind, please read it here: http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post781365.html...

Given that it is not plagiarized, and just a twisted trick of fate that the other writer coincidentally have a familiar idea with you. For me, I would instantly meet up with that writer and be best friend with him/her, because it is rare for someone to have the same wicked mind like me. XD

http://www.mangafox.com/manga/bungaku_shoujo_to_sh...

It is about a young author, and his strange relationship with a girl who eats stories(litterally eating them, with the paper and all). I find it quaint and very attractive.

Hi everyone on B&A. Please read the paragraph below then answer the question following it. I would be very appreciate.

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“Fine,” I faked a groan “all I need to do is just to tell you, and you will be happy, right?” Kim chuckled and nodded, waiting for me to continue, her eyes shone with expectation... As if I would tell her that easy. Call me what you like, I know that I was a sore loser in this game call love. And as a sore loser, I slyly gestured to call her closer. Innocently, Kim leaned forward and turned her head aside, thinking that I would whisper into her ear. And I gave her, instead of the secret she wanted, a kiss to her cheek."

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This is just a little reality check on my character development. I want to know how the girl, a curious one, would react to the kiss, while her boyfriend keeping a trivial secret from her because of his stupid stubbornness. Note: the secret is nothing serious. I planned to have the girl to instantly prepare to punish him(playfully, as in a little pinching or such) for his behavior, but is it what someone would really do?

It is a part of my lil' short story that have been distracting me from my main work. I haven't finish it yet, but I already had an idea for the ending. Still, read it first, and the question will be at the end:

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Let’s say, you are a guy. And, let’s say, in front of you is a girl. Also, let’s say, that girl is your girl friend. Now, let’s say, her face is red up to the ears. Let’s say...forget it. No matter how much “Let’s say” I am going to tell you, you won’t understand the situation I was in: One day, I was suddenly being called out by my girlfriend to our usual café for unknown reasons. Her usual voice on the phone did not give me any hint of the whole ordeal I will have to face: as soon as she saw me entering through the doors of the café, her face suddenly turned red, and she did not say a word as I sat down before her.

What do you think she was thinking? As a normal male variation of the human beings, I am not capable of telepathy, nor am I any good with mind reading, especially on girls; therefore, I was as clueless as you are now. Yet, there I was with my girlfriend, and a very confusing, quizzical expression of redness was on her face. Confusing and quizzical for me, the pitiful, miserable guy who was trying his best to figure out what his girlfriend is thinking under her redden cheeks, that is.

Was she angry? I was not late. Early, even. Embarrassed? There was no reason to. Shy? I don’t think it was the case...Do you think she got a cold and she wanted me to take care of her? She could have just call me to her house ... As you can see, I was utterly confused ... “FOR GOODNESS’S SAKE! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” I screamed at her...in my mind. I would never be able to do that without either feeling like a jerk for making her cry, or get knocked down with a burning handprint on my face. Or both.

What other options do you think I had? None, apparently. Without any other choice, I quietly ordered cappuccino for me, and strawberry tea for her, then watched her reactions carefully. She still remained silent, but her red cheeks then seem to turn into a pink flush of happiness as she smiled to me. Seem like I did the right thing, right? I knew that she loves strawberry tea, and that is a sure-fire way to make she smile. It seemed to be the right time for the next move. Casually, I asked her one simple question: “So...Kim, why did you call me here today?”

That was the worst thing I could have done at that moment. To my much of my dismay, her previously happy mood did a 360-degree-flip right at the instant I asked that one simple question. Her smile switched place with a frown, and her face was as red as molten lava from an exploding volcano, which is to say, not quite far from the truth, as she seemed just about to explode from anger right then and there. Like a volcano, that is. My panic mode kicked in right after. I frantically searched for the reason of her anger - my impending danger, with my palm sweated, and my heart raced at 100 miles an hour. My mind was unable to find anything, obviously; except for a thought about how ridiculous it is for women to assume that men should be able to read their minds when they become lovers.

I need names of flowers that symbolize shyness. Preferably those that have natural red/pink colors. Thank you.

This is needed for a simile for my story, and I don't quite like using sweetpea, which is the only one I know that represent shyness.

I am currently being distracted from my main story and go on writing a short romance instead. So, this is a passage I have in my story, and I want to see what do you think about this character:

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With acting skills that would have won me an Academy Award, I held her hand on the table, then I gently told her as I looked into her eyes, “Happy birthday, Kim, and thank you.” Being a curious girl as she always is, my girlfriend asked: “Why did you thank me for?” I didn’t answer her right away, however. Instead, I simply took a sip from my cup, intentionally created a dramatic pause. She put me through all that agony, after all; it is only fair for me to tease her curiosity a little bit, isn’t it? At the moment I put the cup down, she complained: “Come on Kevin, tell me please? Pretty please?” I couldn’t help it but chuckled at her pouting face then, because, as I expected, she could not stand having a secret being kept form her for long. Of course, my girlfriend didn’t like it. She leaned forward and pinched me on my cheek so hard that it could make a grown man scream in pain. In face with such torture, the most sensible solution for me was to give in to her demands. Shameful, yes, but is pride ever needed in love? Or more specifically, when your face are being clasped with your girlfriend's iron hand? “Alright!” I pleaded, “I will tell you! Let me go!”

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I want to see what the personality of this character seems to you.

Sorry for the seemingly B&A-unrelated title, but it is what I really want to ask. Do you carve for chocolate ice cream after reading this:

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Upon my shaking hands, a chocolate ice cream, still inside its wrapping, was laying like a maiden in her deep slumber. I could not hold back anymore. Excitement took over my hazy mind, and I voraciously ripped of the wrapping in the manner of a mad man. And then, the exposed brown gleam of chocolate, decorated with little yellow pieces of peanuts, mesmerized my mind, the alluring scent of cocoa sedated my sanity. I was not a man anymore. I was a beast. I devoured the ice cream the way a hungry wolf would devour its pray. The distinct sweet, frigid taste of chocolate ice cream, the crunchy feel of the peanuts melted upon my tongue and washed over my mind as my teeth sunk to the brittle cone, crack it open with a loud crushing noise, and took away an enormous bite. It was total bliss.

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I wrote this while eating my ice cream. Needless to say, I love chocolate ice cream.

This is 10 myths about copyrights that many uninformed young writers tends to assumed:

http://www.templetons.com/brad/copymyths.html

Some important points from the article:

* These days, almost all things are copyrighted the moment they are written, and no copyright notice is required.

* Copyright is still violated whether you charged money or not, only damages are affected by that.

* Postings to the net are not granted to the public domain, and don't grant you any permission to do further copying except perhaps the sort of copying the poster might have expected in the ordinary flow of the net.

* Fair use is a complex doctrine meant to allow certain valuable social purposes. Ask yourself why you are republishing what you are posting and why you couldn't have just rewritten it in your own words.

* Copyright is not lost because you don't defend it; that's a concept from trademark law. The ownership of names is also from trademark law, so don't say somebody has a name copyrighted.

* Fan fiction and other work derived from copyrighted works is a copyright violation.

* Don't rationalize that you are helping the copyright holder; often it's not that hard to ask permission.

I have seen many young writers asking questions about copyrights, that is why I am posting this for you guys. Hope this help you.

I am wondering which point of view is better for my story. Since the character will be alone for most of the story, I originally wanted to start with first person, to have the reader empathized with his loneliness. But as I continue to write, my character proved himself to do things more than thinking about things, so I am somewhat incline into writing in an omnipresence third person.

Here are samples of both points of view:

Third person - Note: the character's thoughts are italicized to indicate it is different from the narration. Yahoo need to have more formatting option.

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In one of those particularly starry nights after a rain, the old man who Rain had been living with decided that he would “return home”. Rain didn’t stop him. He knew that the old man needed a rest. An eternal rest for his suffering.

Many nights in his sleep, the old man cried out names. His family, perhaps, Rain guessed. That is all he knew about the old man. After all those times Rain was with him, the old man never talked about himself or his life before the catastrophe. But Rain knew that he couldn’t face the reality any more. He cannot live in this new world. Whenever he stared blankly outside the windows of our penthouse in rainy days, Rain wondered, what memories of the city he was reminiscing under those sad eyes? He often followed the old man’s eyes, searching for something in the distance in hope that he can understand the person he is living with more. But all he could see at those times, was just a dead city sunk under a thousand feet of water. He saw lonely skyscrapers reaching to the sky above the water surface like drowning hands call for salvation. He saw rusted remains of vehicles laid silently in the deep blue. He saw schools of fishes swimming through hollowed windows frames. He saw the fall of humanity...What did you see, old man? Rain asked the man in his memory. Did you see the home you searched for beneath those waves?...Perhaps there is no more point asking a dead man.

The next morning after that night, Rain found his body floating on the water outside their house. He drew the old man in with a net.

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First person

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In one of those particularly starry nights after a rain, the old man who I had been living with decided that he would “return home”. I didn’t stop him. He needed a rest. An eternal rest for his suffering.

Many nights in his sleep, he cried out names. His family, perhaps. After all those times I was with him, he never talked about himself or his life before the catastrophe. But I knew that he couldn’t face the reality any more. He cannot live in this new world. Whenever he stared blankly outside the windows of our penthouse in rainy days, I wondered, what memories of the city he was reminiscing under those sad eyes? I often followed his eyes, searching for something in the distance in hope that I can understand him. But all I could see at those times, was just a dead city sunk under a thousand feet of water. I saw lonely skyscrapers reaching to the sky above the water surface like drowning hands call for salvation. I saw rusted remains of vehicles laid silently in the deep blue. I saw schools of fishes swimming through hollowed windows frames. I saw the fall of humanity...What did you see, old man? Did you see the home you searched for beneath those waves?

Perhaps there is no more point asking a dead man. The next morning after that night, I found his body floating on the water outside our house. I drew him in with a net.

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I don't mean writing skill, I mean other skills that is almost like an extra package that comes with your writing skill. For example, I have learned to type with 1 hand without looking at the screen while the other hand putting chips into my mouth and my eyes upon a book and my notes. Multitasking, you may called it.

What about you?

Warning: Contain some course humors. Viewer discretion is advise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OonDPGwAyfQ&feature...

A little scene I found from my old writings. I am planning to append it into one of my newer story. Tell me what you feel after reading this.

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...Then he heard a voice softly called him. “Brother....Where are you?” Rain couldn’t believe his ears. It was Windy. He ran across the room, stumbled on the bodies in the darkness, waving his hand blindly before him to find his little sister. After a while, he finally found another small hand on the ground, and held on to it. He could felt the warmth slowly diminished from her hand.

“Brother...is that you? I can’t see you.” He heard Windy voice. “I am here! I am here Windy!” Rain cried to her, his tears dropped on Windy’s hand and shattered in thousands pieces, like his heart.

“Why are you crying brother?...You promised me...that you will smile more for me...”She weakly said, using her remaining strength to reach up to Rain’s face, wiping off his tears with her bloody hand. “I will, I will smile more for you! Please don’t go, Windy! Stay with me!” Rain pleaded.

“Brother...I can’t hear anymore...are you still there?” Windy asked as life escape from her body in every breath.

Rain squeezed on Windy’s hand: “I am right next to you Windy! Don’t leave me!”

The girl did not replied. “Windy! Windy!” Rain screamed.

“Brother...I am sorry.” Windy whispered.

“No! Don’t...Please don’t...” Rain realized that it was hopeless...but he didn’t want to face it. What is the purpose of him now, being her older brother, when all he could do is to watch his little sister dying?

“All this time...”Windy continued, gasping for air as she spoke“...you have been protecting me, brother...Now it is my turn....to protect you...from heaven...”

And then, silence. A deadly silence fell upon them. Rain faced up the ceiling and howled. Howled for all that he had lost, howled for his anguish soul. He stood up and walked to the dead bodies of the Royals. With the knife in his hand, he ravaged them, unleashed his furry upon them. But his sister and mother won’t come back. After all of his enemies have been flayed open, Rain knelt before his mother and his sister. He felt empty. No more anger. No more pain. No more sadness. No more suffering. No more feelings. Just empty. The emptiness of a dead soul....

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Excuse me for the numerous grammatical errors you may find. I was not quite excellent at the grammar department back then.

If you don't mind, can you answer some bonus questions?

1.Do you think this scene is cliche?

2.Do you think that this scene is unrealistic?

3.Do you feel it is too long? Or, perhaps, too dramatic?

I was just sitting down with a few friends and having a fun talk about the purpose of life.

I proposed : "The purpose of life is to create more lives."

My friend commented : "So life is an sexually transmitted disease?"

He is damn right, now that I think about it. Your thought? Just for fun.