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Every design tells a story whether or not anyone wrote one. Order, emphasis and pace add up to a claim about what matters and in what sequence, and a reader absorbs that claim long before they read a word of it. The only question is whether the story was chosen.
A page is read in order, and order is persuasion. What comes first is the premise. What comes next either supports it or changes the subject. What comes last is what the reader carries away, which is why the final section of most pages is the most wasted space on the internet.
Rearranging three sections can change what a page means without changing a single sentence in it. That is the whole craft, and it costs nothing but attention.

A story needs a point of view before it needs a plot. In design that means deciding whose problem the page is about and refusing to widen it.
Pages that try to speak to everyone end up addressing nobody, and the tell is always the same: a headline that could belong to any company in the category.
Uniform emphasis is the same as no emphasis. If everything on the page is important, the reader will decide for themselves what is, and they will usually decide wrong.
The strongest close is rarely a summary. It is the moment the reader realises the thing they were shown at the start meant something other than what they assumed.
Return to the opening image and read it differently.
It is an old trick, it works in every medium anyone has ever tried it in, and it takes one paragraph.
Storytelling in design is not decoration laid over information. It is the decision about what order the information arrives in and what the reader is meant to feel when it does — and a page made without that decision is still telling a story, just not one anyone chose.