INNER CITY STORIE
“Once upon a time a pair of twins were born. From fire, blood and iron was their birth. Among a never ending war were they destined to grow. One a male, and the other a female. These two destinies equally aligned and perfectly harmonious, but with roles completely different. Tragedy, hate and infernal pain the future holds for them, but love will come, bringing them new worlds.
Nothing can be done to save our two heroes, for their beings are intertwined with the world’s. By a tragic event was their childhood parted, only to at the end again be united…”
As she was reading the draft, Elisa slowly moved her head away from the paper making a frown. It was a cheesy, lame and cliche writing. She hated it, plus it reminded her of her brother. Did Trevor know anything about her? Nah, he’s just a romantic when it comes to writing stuff.
“All I can recall, this is painfully brain damaging cliche. It even sounds wrong,” objected Elisa. “The prologue of the story is too dramatic, too cliché,” she said.
“How is it cliche? And how does it sound wrong . . . why are you such a party pooper, Elisa?”
“Do I have to answer and explain how this is a cliche prologue? IT STARTS WITH ONCE UPON A TIME! Also, ‘These two destinies equally aligned and perfectly harmonious... Tragedy, hate and infernal pain the future holds for them, but love will come, bringing them new worlds’ -- it sounds like at some point they’re gonna do some incest crap. Happy with my party pooping, Trevor?” She stares at him oblivious.
“ a) The once upon a time part gives it life, and b) you have a dirty mind,” Trevor pointed out while typing.
“c) the world has a dirty mind, not me.”
It was school work, the story they were writing together; the teacher made an error by partnering her with Trevor, or with anyone. But what could the teacher know about her? Nothing. And what will the teacher learn about her? Nothing.
It's just a project, nothing else. Let it go and get the grade. This has nothing to do with you, you are making up all this stuff in your mind and you are letting it damage you. Get your s**t together.
Probably a joke, but the thing is, the story that Trevor was writing was similar to Elisa’s. Alike in the sense that in her version she had a twin in the tragedy and infernal pain sense. The rest was dramatic flair garbage.