Single-Effect Story

[hellsing293]

*Tabs don't work sorry in vBulletin*
I had to write a single-effect story for English. I was aiming for curiosity/suspense as my effect. I have yet to edit it and I'm not going to until tomorrow since it's not due until Wednesday. It's kind of long but if you want to read it here it is(and feel free to point of grammar/typos):

Curiosity is a unique human characteristic. The most menial, intriguing objects can consume one’s thoughts and even his very dreams. Curiosity heeds neither fear nor consequences and is unrelenting until its monstrous interest is fully satisfied. One will often disregard obvious omens and dangers and forgo necessary cautions in his quest for answers. The curiosity inside all of us is like a tempest, slowly growing in strength until its wrath can no longer be contained. From the lowliest of beggars to the highest of kings, they all share the inherit weakness of human curiosity. This inherit weakness has been the downfall of many common and great men alike throughout the ages. With these events I am about to rely to you, I pray you will learn to become weary of your curiosity. I hope to teach you one important lesson: some things are best left unknown.
For the longest time, parallel to my aging Victorian house and across a gray cobble stone street spotted with individual red stones, they lay an old antique shop. There it had lain as far back as my distant memory could take me. The antique shop was in the heart of the city, yet I had never seen a single person dare venture inside or pay any attention to it at all for that matter. It was as if the old antique shop was invisible to everyone but myself.
The building was dilapidated and looked as if it should be condemned. Cracked boards nailed in an unorganized fashion formed what you could call walls and red terracotta lined the craving roof. Remarkably though, the windows were perfect, ageless in regards to the rest of the house. They revealed the dimly lit shop which seemed to consist of old trinkets and valuables forgotten centuries ago. Despite my keen inspection through these ageless portals into the shop I had never spotted a sole person residing inside.
One late afternoon while it was slightly raining I found myself outside. I didn’t mind the weather though, the cool minute drops of water on the back of my neck felt soothing. On my way back from the market, I was on the side of the road opposite my house. For some reason I found the scenery of this rainy day remarkably beautiful. As I proceeded to stroll on home in my joyous mood I couldn’t help but look all around me. A high-pitched ringing flowed through the air and journeyed into my ears. Curious to discover what was making this noise I turned around to find myself staring through crystal clear windows into a dimly lit space. I had lost track of time and realized I directly opposite of my house and I the alluring noise had emerged from the antique shop. My curiosity grew as I discreetly crept nearer the shop. Listening intently, the sound still remained indiscernible. This only fed my desire to find out what the sound was coming from.
I carefully approached the shop to find a large, strong mahogany door watching guard. This was also odd from the rest of the rickety building. I was granted access as I turned the doorknob and ventured inside. The high-pitched ringing noise stopped abruptly as my foot contacted the dusty hardwood floor of the shop. Where had the noise come from and why did it stop? My endeavors were in vain as I continued trying to locate the object which had first caught my attention.
Slowly swaying lanterns allowed the little vision I had. The dancing flitters of light were the only signs of movement I could detect. I peered around the shop to find many intriguing spectacles. Empty ancient chest which could have once been filled with worldly treasures littered the floors. Bookshelves cluttered with manuscripts, books with tattered covers and single folded pages scribbled with faded ink. Crystal glasses, dishes and figures perched on narrow tables lining the walls. I felt the small figures’ eyes staring at me, transfixed on the unexpected intruder and curious to why he was here in front of them. Moving shadows cast from multiple lanterns gave me the impression of being followed. Cobwebs occupied every crevice I stridden and I sensed that I must have been the first one to walk upon this floor for a very long time.
I explored further, captivated by this shop of oddities. One could spend days marveling at these treasures. Upon my exploration, one nagging mystery I still couldn’t seem to solve was who owned the antique shop. No stirring of any kind had I perceived during my entire stay. Could anyone be so careless as to leave all of these riches unattended or was this maybe a trap to catch and punish thieves? I waded through endless narrow isles of overflowing bookshelves and piles of dusty trinkets. Various musty odors plunged into my nostrils. This size of this vast antique shop was given little justice by its appearance outside. I trekked on to the back of the grand room to find an empty doorway, unguarded unlike the entrance into the store.
I moved my head ever so slightly through the empty doorway and gazed inside to uncover a tiny room. Little light had shown from almost used up lanterns in the corners. The entire shop being a world of darkness, my sight had grown cat-like so that this even dimmer illumination halted me not. As I looked around the room to find nobody my desire to learn who owned this store still burned strong. Piercing through the darkness I groped along the wall in eager to uncover another door.
A tingling sensation ran down my spine as I crossed the room. My attempts at discovering another door had failed. Unlike the grand room of the shop, a lone table protruded from the surroundings. It lay in the direct center of the room. This lone table perhaps interested me more than the endless amounts of tables filled with antiques in the other room. Why had this lone table been set up in here? I drew nearer to find a single box that placed on the edge of the table as if it was ready to leap off.
This box was square and a little larger than my hand. It was of the blackest black I had ever seen and appeared to be made out of stained wood. A pair of well polished, small golden latches seemed locked to prevent invaders. The box was so extraordinarily heavy that I was at first taken by surprise. The bitter coldness of the box numbed my hand as I grasped it. What perplexed me the most though was the inscription carved into top of the box:

Inside me are a sea of mysteries and an ocean of knowledge. Inside me are where all secrets lie and where the thirst of your curiosity shall be quenched.

How could this puzzling object contain all of life’s unknowns? Why had it been set aside from the rest of the shop’s wonders? And still, who had it belonged to? Just then, a roar of thunder rattled through the walls of the shop and rocketed me back to the world outside that of the old antique shop. It was probably late by now I realized and I should be getting home. As I turned to leave I looked back at the box. Surely it was nothing but it still had intrigued me. My eyes darted to and fro across the room and I still detected no one. I plucked the box as quickly as possible and ran back out the store. I escaped as nimbly as possible, avoiding all objects in my path.
Out of the store I ran into a torrential downpour of rain. Violent gusts of wind, obviously amplified by the narrowness of the street, attacked me at once attempting to sweep me off my feet. Blackening clouds barred all light from passing through. I must have been the only one foolish enough to be outside as the street was barren. Hastily I made my way across the street and into my home. From just crossing the street I become soaked. I cared not though and headed with my stolen prize to my basement.
Once there, I rested it upon a stone floor cluttered with useless junk. The limited space and light I was afforded closely reminded me of the old shop that I had just arrived from. The small golden latches proved impossible to open. For long minutes I failed to pry the latches open to claim the box’s rewards. The challenge only made me want victory more. I then decided to break the latches. I retreated to find a hammer and reappeared only a short moment later. Three swings I tried on each of the dainty looking latches yet neither had relinquished their grip.
Next I tested the strength of the wood. I found the box to possess a profound hardness. Again and again I savagely slashed at my helpless prey. As I continued to be unsuccessful to open the box my curiosity grew and so did my annoyance. My annoyance soon morphed into an inconceivable fury that seized control of me. Harder and Harder I swung, each time my seemingly fatal blows were easily endured. My exhaustion ended my siege for the moment.
I sat opposite the box and gave my burning arms a rest. I moved the box closer and began to inspect its finer details. I hadn’t inflicted a scratch upon its exterior that could distinguish. I pondered in the darkness for a while. I wondered what could weaken this wooden box enough to allow me to break into it. An idea then flickered into my brain and lit up my hopes: fire.
I searched the contents of my basement in order to find something to create and sustain a fire. I succeeded and returned to where the box was with matches and a flammable propellant. The box seemed to lie at my feet defiantly, daring me to set it ablaze. Accepting its challenge I doused it in the propellant not missing an inch. My judgment had been shrouded by my desire to open the box. Without any other thought besides the destruction of the box, I dropped the match.
A scorching fire erupted from the box, leaping onto all of the contents scattered on the floor. Swiftly the fire spread until my escape was barred and my surroundings were engulfed in flames. I gazed down to see the box and my anger grew far beyond rationality. The box remained untouched, impermeable to the fire. The ferocity of the flames rose all around me but all I was fascinated with was the box. In my final seconds before the impeding fires consumed me, I picked up the box to marvel at its strangeness one last time when I discovered writing on the bottom of it:

Inside me is the destruction of man for a life without mysterious is a life not worth living

[Blue]

After reading the first paragraph I thought of two things:
1 - This is really, really deep.
2 - Pandora's Box.
Nice work, this would get an A in my book, xD

[BrioCloud]

I read the whole thing. You pointed out with examples of kings and beggars about curiosity, however you have only shown one story of yourself. I felt it was kind of misleading.

Extremely good imagery. =]

[hellsing293]

I revised/editied/cleaned it up. Flows/sounds much better now. All typos removed too



Curiosity is a unique human characteristic. The most menial, intriguing objects can consume one’s thoughts and even his very dreams. Curiosity heeds neither fear nor consequences and is unrelenting until its monstrous interest is fully satisfied. One will often disregard obvious omens and dangers, forgoing necessary cautions in his quest for answers. The curiosity inside all of us is like a tempest, slowly growing in strength until its wrath can no longer be contained. From the lowliest of beggars to the highest of kings, they all share the inherit weakness of human curiosity. This inherit weakness has been the downfall of many common and great men alike throughout the ages. With these events I am about to relay to you, I pray you will learn to become more weary of your curiosity. I hope to teach you one important lesson: some things are best left unknown.

For the longest time, parallel to my aging Victorian house and across a gray cobble stone street spotted with individual red stones, there was an old antique shop. There it had lain, as far back as my distant memory could take me. The antique shop was in the heart of the city, yet I had never seen a single person dare venture inside or pay any attention to it at all for that matter. It was as if the old antique shop was invisible to everyone but myself.

The building was dilapidated and appeared as if it should be condemned. Cracked boards, nailed in an unorganized fashion, formed rudimentary walls and red terracotta tiles lined the caving roof. Remarkably though, the windows were perfect, ageless in regards to the rest of the house. They revealed a dimly lit shop, which seemed to consist of old trinkets and valuables forgotten centuries ago. Despite my keen inspection through these ageless portals into the shop, I had never spotted a sole person residing inside.

One late afternoon, while it was slightly raining, I found myself outside. I didn’t mind the weather though, the cool minute drops of water on the back of my neck felt soothing. On my way back from the market, I was walking on the side of the road opposite my house. For some reason, I found the scenery of this rainy day astonishingly beautiful. As I proceeded to stroll on home, feeling inquisit1ve(damn smilies), I couldn’t help but look all around me.

A high-pitched ringing flowed through the air and journeyed into my ears. Curious to discover what was making this noise, I turned around to find myself staring through crystal clear windows into a dimly lit space. I had lost track of time and realized I was directly opposite of my house and that the strange, alluring noise had emerged from the antique shop. My curiosity grew as I discreetly crept nearer the shop. Listening intently, the sound still remained indiscernible. This only fed my desire to find out what the sound was coming from.

I carefully approached the shop to find a large, strong mahogany door watching guard over the valuables inside. The sturdiness of the door was also odd from the rest of the rickety building. When I turned the doorknob, the door granted me access and I proceeded to ventured inside. The high-pitched ringing noise stopped abruptly as my foot contacted the dusty hardwood floor of the shop. What had emitted that noise, and why had it stopped upon my entrance? My endeavors were in vain as I continued trying to locate the object which had first caught my attention.

Slowly swaying lanterns were responsible for the little vision I was allowed. The dancing flickers of light were the only detectable signs of movement inside of the shop. I peered around the shop to find many intriguing spectacles. Empty ancient chests which could have once been filled with worldly treasures littered the floors. There were bookcases cluttered with heavily weathered manuscripts, books with tattered covers, and torn, folded pages scribbled with faded ink. Surprisingly elegant crystal glasses, dishes and extremely life-like figurines perching on narrow tables lined the walls. I felt the small figurines’ piercing eyes staring at me, transfixed on the unexpected intruder, curious to why he was now here in front of them. Moving shadows cast from multiple lanterns gave me the impression of being followed. Cobwebs occupied every crevice I strode. With each step the floor took a deep, agonizing moan and I sensed that I must have been the first one to walk upon this floor for a very long time.

I explored further, captivated by this shop of oddities. One could spend days marveling at these treasures. Upon my exploration, one nagging mystery I still couldn’t seem to solve was who owned the antique shop. No stirring of any kind had I perceived during my entire stay. Could anyone be so careless as to leave all of these riches unattended, or perhaps this was a cleverly devised trap to catch and punish thieves? As I waded through endless narrow isles of overflowing bookshelves and piles of dusty trinkets, various musty odors plunged themselves into my nostrils. The size of this vast antique shop was given little justice by its appearance outside. I trekked on to the back of the grand room to find an empty doorway, unguarded, unlike the entrance into the store.

I moved my head ever so slightly through the empty doorway and gazed inside to uncover a tiny, hidden room. Little light had shown from almost empty lanterns in the distant, indiscernible corners of the room. The entire shop was a world of darkness and this darkness had caused my sight to grow cat-like, so that this even dimmer illumination halted me not. As I looked around the room to find nobody, my desire to learn who owned this store burned stronger than ever. Piercing through the darkness, I groped along the wall in eager to uncover another door.

A tingling sensation ran down my spine as I crossed the room. My attempts at discovering another door had failed. Unlike the grand room of the shop, a lone table protruded from the surroundings and resided in the direct center of the room. This lone table perhaps interested me more than the endless amounts of tables filled with antiques in the other room. Why had this lone table been set up in here? I drew nearer to find a single box that was placed on the edge of the table as if it was ready to leap off.

The box was square and a little larger than my hand so that gripping it with one hand proved difficult. It was of the blackest black I had ever seen, and appeared to be made out of stained wood. A pair of well polished, small, golden latches was securely locked to prevent invaders. The box was so extraordinarily heavy that I was at first taken by surprise. The bitter coldness of the box numbed my hand as I awkwardly grasped it. What perplexed me the most though was the inscription carved into top of the box:

Inside me are a sea of mysteries and an ocean of knowledge. Inside me are where all secrets lie and where the thirst of your curiosity shall be quenched

How could this puzzling object contain all of life’s unknowns? Why had it been set aside from the rest of the shop’s wonders? And still, just who had it belonged to? Suddenly, a ferocious roar of heavenly thunder rattled through the crumbling walls and rocketed me back to the world outside that of the old antique shop. It was probably late by now I realized and I should be getting home. Turning to leave, I looked back at the peculiar box. Surely it was nothing, but it still had intrigued me. My eyes darted to and fro across the room, and yet I still detected no one. Plucking the box off the table as quickly as possible, I resumed my departure. I escaped, as nimbly as possible, avoiding all objects in my path.

Once out of the store, I ran into a torrential downpour of rain. Violent gusts of wind, obviously amplified by the narrowness of the street, attacked me at once attempting to sweep me off my feet. Blackening clouds barred all light from passing through. I must have been the only one foolish enough to be outside, as the street was barren. Hastily, I made my way across the street and into my home. From just crossing the street, I became soaked. I cared not though, and headed with my stolen prize to my basement.

Upon entering the bleak dungeon, I rested the box upon a stone floor cluttered with useless rubbish. The limited space and light I was afforded closely reminded me of the old shop that I had just arrived from. The small, golden latches proved impossible to open. For long minutes, I failed to pry the latches open to claim the box’s rewards. The challenge only made me insatiably crave victory more. I then decided to break the latches. Retreating to find a hammer, I reappeared only a short moment later. Three swings violently struck each of the dainty looking latches, yet neither had relinquished their grip.

Next, I tested the strength of the wood. I found the box to possess a profound hardness. Again and again I savagely slashed at my helpless prey. As I continued to be unsuccessful at opening the box, curiosity as well as an emerging annoyance developed within me. This annoyance soon morphed into a foreign, inconceivable fury that seized control of me. Harder and harder I swung, each time my seemingly fatal blows were easily endured. Exhaustion soon ended my siege upon the box for the moment.

I sat opposite the box and gave my burning arms a rest. Moving the box closer to myself, I began to carefully inspect its finer details. Despite my strenuous efforts, I hadn’t inflicted any distinguishable wounds upon the box’s exterior. Pondering in the darkness for a while, I wondered what could weaken this wooden box enough to allow me to break into it and unearth its secrecy. An idea then flickered into my brain and ignited my hopes: fire.

I searched the contents of my basement, in order to find something to create and sustain a fire. Succeeding, I returned to where the box was waiting for me with matches and a flammable propellant. The box seemed to lie at my feet defiantly, daring me to set it ablaze. Accepting the box’s challenge, I doused it in the propellant not missing an inch. My desire to destroy the box shrouded my judgment and then, without any other thought besides the utter annihilation of this unworldly object, I fatefully dropped a burning match over the box.

A scorching fire erupted from the box, leaping onto all of the contents scattered carelessly across the floor. Swiftly the fire spread, until my escape was barred and my surroundings were engulfed in flames. I gazed down to see the box which caused my anger to then grow far beyond rationality. The box remained untouched, impermeable to the fire. Although the ferocity of the flames rose everywhere around me, all I was fascinated with was the box. In my final seconds before the impending fires consumed me, I picked up the box to marvel at its strangeness one last time when I discovered writing on the bottom of it:

~~~~~~~~~~Inside me is the destruction of man for a life without mysteries is a life not worth living~~~~~~~~~~

[Nex]

WOW, I'm impressed Hellsing you are a very talented write. Have you thought of some sort of career involving writing?
That should get you an A for sure.
good work.

[hellsing293]

Eh, got an A. My teacher doesn't believe in giving A+'s. My next assignment is I have to turn The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe into a children's story. I'll post whenever I finish it.