(no subject)
I don't know if I ever posted this here. I had to write a short story in a class showing culture clash. So here is what I came up with.
so read it if you care too. if not. oh well.
PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
I tried on this story so I am not looking for criticism.
Sex, violence and rock 'n' roll. Cultures clash, chaos vs. conformity, abnormal vs. normal. In your life you're ruled be either one of two gods. The god of chaos rules those who dare-to-be-different. They thrive on how people look and stare. Handmade jewelry, pinned together clothing and their unique philosophy of style. Their bodies littered with piercing, necklaces and spikes. The makeup they wear, black as night, is worn like war paint. Trademarks of this kind, from the makeup of death, to the torn clothing and spikes. Black nails show an obvious chaos patron. Most are occupied with their art, music or literature. Finding themselves deep inside their own artistic emotions. Expressing how they feel with one drawing, poem, or song. Their music is loud and filled with hidden meanings. Telling stories of lives lost, anarchy and the fight to be different in a world of clones. Their loyalty to a certain band or bands is very strong. They wear the logo's and the patches to make sure that people know who they worship. They act how they want, when they want, and just enjoying being themselves in all insanity. This uniqueness can be measured, there are those who just take a little of the culture for themselves and make a small difference in themselves. And then there are those who devote themselves to this all mighty god of hardcore chaos. Prejudice towards those who conform to that popular and trendy. But with this patronage, there is always those who fake these qualities, but they are easily spotted. Other sub-cultures of this group are the Raver kids, who dress if excessively bright colors and sport glow sticks. The Emo kids are also very close, they are constantly depressive and just dress in black and write sad poems and music.
The god of conformity is quite the opposite. These followers are purely trying to be like their celebrity idols. The look is much cleaner and nicer then the chaos patrons. Their bibles are the fashion magazines and gossip shows. They thrive on the latest trends and ridiculously expensive clothing. They buy this clothing just because they saw some celebrity wear it, or just because it’s so expensive it shows how rich they are. They clothing is usually brighter then the "dare-to-be's" usually in the pastels or the current trendy color. The style changes all the time for them, usually the balance style copies another style and makes it their own in some weird way. This whole style is based on other styles crammed into one and made a whole lot toned down. But, with this style comes restrictions. This style is mainly only for one body type, while with the latter, the body type of the patron has nothing to do with their style. Size 2 seems to be the ideal in these followers. Their dialect is mainly words such as "oh my god", "no way", and "did you hear?” They are savages when it comes to demeaning someone who isn't their comrade. It becomes an ugly battle of thinking up the worst possible rumors to ruin the outsider’s name. The sub-cultures of this group are the jocks, whose life revolves around the sports world and being athletic. Then there is the glamour’s, this group is over infatuated with makeup, and high sophisticated style.
This is a story of a chaos girl who was brought into the world of her enemies. She stands at the wrought iron gates at the entrance of a very immaculate private school. She already knows that this isn't going to go well. She heads in to get everything settled, her dorm room, her classes and such. She wears the usual chaos wear. And does enjoy the looks she gets from the other students, but these aren't the usual looks. The looks are of pure hatred and schemes. She gets uncomfortable as she heads to a class. She looks out of place in a sea or uniforms and conformists. She has no uniform to wear, so she walks around with spikes and pins as her uniform for her loyalty. Eyes follow her as she reaches for the door of the classroom. She steps in only to find yet another sea of hate filled eyes. She pauses for a second as if to make a decision if she should run for her own life or not. She walked into the dead silent room and slowly took her seat. Whispers were rampant. She felt the white hot pain in her back from the stares of her fellow students. This wasn't right at all. Class went through its normal routine; she grabbed her things in a normal fashion and got up to only be pushed aside by a conformist. She fell to the ground and looked up to see a smile of accomplishment on her attackers face.
"You cannot be different in a place like this." her attacker informed her.
At this point she looked so small compared to her attacker. She mustered up enough courage and felt the heat of anger run through her body as she got back up. She stood the same height as her rival. She grabbed her things and walked out of the class room. Her cheeks felt on fire as she walked through the halls. The stares she got were not her usual stares. The eyes were filled with schemes and plans, but their faces had smiles painted on them. They knew something that she didn't. She placed herself into her assigned locker. She headed to the bathroom as if to get some refuge from this assault of hate. She stepped into the white titled sanctuary as she leaned against the nearest wall and sank down to sit. Closed her eyes and looked up as if to pray to the god of chaos. She slowly opened her eyes to see the gleaming black barrel an inch from her head. Then it was all over. No more worries, no more stares, another solider of chaos was done. Her foe walked away as if nothing happened. They could not have someone different in their world.
so read it if you care too. if not. oh well.
PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
I tried on this story so I am not looking for criticism.
Sex, violence and rock 'n' roll. Cultures clash, chaos vs. conformity, abnormal vs. normal. In your life you're ruled be either one of two gods. The god of chaos rules those who dare-to-be-different. They thrive on how people look and stare. Handmade jewelry, pinned together clothing and their unique philosophy of style. Their bodies littered with piercing, necklaces and spikes. The makeup they wear, black as night, is worn like war paint. Trademarks of this kind, from the makeup of death, to the torn clothing and spikes. Black nails show an obvious chaos patron. Most are occupied with their art, music or literature. Finding themselves deep inside their own artistic emotions. Expressing how they feel with one drawing, poem, or song. Their music is loud and filled with hidden meanings. Telling stories of lives lost, anarchy and the fight to be different in a world of clones. Their loyalty to a certain band or bands is very strong. They wear the logo's and the patches to make sure that people know who they worship. They act how they want, when they want, and just enjoying being themselves in all insanity. This uniqueness can be measured, there are those who just take a little of the culture for themselves and make a small difference in themselves. And then there are those who devote themselves to this all mighty god of hardcore chaos. Prejudice towards those who conform to that popular and trendy. But with this patronage, there is always those who fake these qualities, but they are easily spotted. Other sub-cultures of this group are the Raver kids, who dress if excessively bright colors and sport glow sticks. The Emo kids are also very close, they are constantly depressive and just dress in black and write sad poems and music.
The god of conformity is quite the opposite. These followers are purely trying to be like their celebrity idols. The look is much cleaner and nicer then the chaos patrons. Their bibles are the fashion magazines and gossip shows. They thrive on the latest trends and ridiculously expensive clothing. They buy this clothing just because they saw some celebrity wear it, or just because it’s so expensive it shows how rich they are. They clothing is usually brighter then the "dare-to-be's" usually in the pastels or the current trendy color. The style changes all the time for them, usually the balance style copies another style and makes it their own in some weird way. This whole style is based on other styles crammed into one and made a whole lot toned down. But, with this style comes restrictions. This style is mainly only for one body type, while with the latter, the body type of the patron has nothing to do with their style. Size 2 seems to be the ideal in these followers. Their dialect is mainly words such as "oh my god", "no way", and "did you hear?” They are savages when it comes to demeaning someone who isn't their comrade. It becomes an ugly battle of thinking up the worst possible rumors to ruin the outsider’s name. The sub-cultures of this group are the jocks, whose life revolves around the sports world and being athletic. Then there is the glamour’s, this group is over infatuated with makeup, and high sophisticated style.
This is a story of a chaos girl who was brought into the world of her enemies. She stands at the wrought iron gates at the entrance of a very immaculate private school. She already knows that this isn't going to go well. She heads in to get everything settled, her dorm room, her classes and such. She wears the usual chaos wear. And does enjoy the looks she gets from the other students, but these aren't the usual looks. The looks are of pure hatred and schemes. She gets uncomfortable as she heads to a class. She looks out of place in a sea or uniforms and conformists. She has no uniform to wear, so she walks around with spikes and pins as her uniform for her loyalty. Eyes follow her as she reaches for the door of the classroom. She steps in only to find yet another sea of hate filled eyes. She pauses for a second as if to make a decision if she should run for her own life or not. She walked into the dead silent room and slowly took her seat. Whispers were rampant. She felt the white hot pain in her back from the stares of her fellow students. This wasn't right at all. Class went through its normal routine; she grabbed her things in a normal fashion and got up to only be pushed aside by a conformist. She fell to the ground and looked up to see a smile of accomplishment on her attackers face.
"You cannot be different in a place like this." her attacker informed her.
At this point she looked so small compared to her attacker. She mustered up enough courage and felt the heat of anger run through her body as she got back up. She stood the same height as her rival. She grabbed her things and walked out of the class room. Her cheeks felt on fire as she walked through the halls. The stares she got were not her usual stares. The eyes were filled with schemes and plans, but their faces had smiles painted on them. They knew something that she didn't. She placed herself into her assigned locker. She headed to the bathroom as if to get some refuge from this assault of hate. She stepped into the white titled sanctuary as she leaned against the nearest wall and sank down to sit. Closed her eyes and looked up as if to pray to the god of chaos. She slowly opened her eyes to see the gleaming black barrel an inch from her head. Then it was all over. No more worries, no more stares, another solider of chaos was done. Her foe walked away as if nothing happened. They could not have someone different in their world.