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Does this sound okay?? Would you read it if you picked it up in a store?
Here’s a link to the first part of the first chapter: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AuSINR4XK2DUJj_q44kMqlXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090517054808AAK29G1
This is the start of the second chapter. Its set in a fictional fantasy world simalar to japan.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off me.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said
look at my other questions for more of the story
Wow that’s really really good. The first part was better but that’s probably because it was so exciting, and kept you hooked when the ordinary stuff was happening.You should definitely get it published. I’d buy it!…*
Eastenders-based story! Please read..?
Ok I writ this story for English tommorow, what do you think? Is it OK to hand in? Yeah it’s EE based: Jack, Max, Tanya and co are involved (mainly Max & Tan) along with my annoying teacher Mr Thai (who’s name I changed to Mr Teye in case my teacher knows who he is..) The guys are in Year 8, cuz that’s like my year…ITS LONG THOUGH!
—-
Max and Tanya were walking in the busy hall, it was the 1st day back, 1st day of year 8 and so far…boring. Max was a boy (obviously), average height, shiny bald head, and chunky ginger eyebrows. Tanya was a girl (obviously!), pretty face, with long blonde hair that flicked out at the ends. It turns out they were in the same class that lesson, so thats why they were walking together (in case you’re wondering)
“So Tanya, I guess we’re in the same class again this year!” Max laughed.
“Oh shut it, Max! I still haven’t forgotten about last year you know!” she growled.
Max moved in front of her, walking backwards. “Tan, that whole Stacey thing, it was just a r —-OW!” “Max are you Ok?” Tanya giggled.
Max had bashed into a teacher and both of them were flat on the floor. The teacher seemed lost and had a load of papers in his hand (well not anymore obviously) which were scattered all over the corridor along with his glasses.
The teacher himself was your average nerd: glasses, suit, long tie, top button done, shirt tucked in, and he had a map of the school in his hand too (weirdly enoungh it was still in his hand).
“Oi, watch it!” Max screeched, lifting himself up from under the papers. Tanya, still giggling, helped the teacher pick up his papers. “So, you’re new I take it?” she asked.
“Um, yeah, I mean YES I am. Oh, where are my glasses??” he cried impatiently, feeling up the floor. “You mean these?” Max said, sounding disgusted.
The glasses were square in shape with thick black rims, and a crack in the left lens, quite gross to say the least. “Talk about a fashion crisis..” Max muttered and chucked the glasses into the nerdy teachers hands.
“Hey! Treat me with respect..I..I am your superior! I’ll see you 1:00!” he screeched. “Yeah? Whatever.” Max mumbled, rolling his eyes.
” “How to draw a perfect SQUARE?” – I guess you’re an art teacher then right?” Tanya asked reading one of the papers. “Yeah, no YES I am! Can you tell me where room 602 is? I’m already late for my 1st lesson, these maps are so cofusing!” He blushed.
“Yeah it’s over there, up the stairs, turn right.” Tanya said sweetly. “Yeah so nice “bumping” into you but we gotta go” Max said dragging Tanya with him as he walked off. “Nerdy freak!” he hissed.
“So am I forgiven?” Max smiled. “Ha, I guess I can’t punish you anymore after that! It was too funny!” She laughed. “You even made me forget our next lesson!” she giggled looking in her bag. She took out her timetable: ” “Monday, Period 1, Art, Room 602, Mr Teye” oh that’s only up there! Come on Max!” she was still giggling. They both walked on.
“602? I’ve heard that today. Where?” Max said looking puzzled. “Er? I don’t know do I? I so hope Jane’s in this class too. We have so much to catch up on” she said excitedly. “Jane? Tall one?” Max said. Tanya nodded.
“Is she still sniffing around that Ian Beale?” “No, the opposite!” she started laughing tears (practically). “Ian and Jane? Ian and Heather would be a better match!” Max laughed. “Oh my- I can’t believe you just said that! It’s true though. Ian’s sweet and all, but Jane could do better. It’s no Romeo And Juliet after all! What? Hello, did I actually say that?” she said shocked.
“You mean like us?” Max joked. Tanya gave him a weird look.
“No, bruv. She means like us!”
Another boys comes up from behind them, he had short brown hair and was chewing some Tridents (chewing gum, you know?).
“Jack.” Max said annoyed. “Why did I say that? Why? Why, why, why??” Tanya screamed. “So I guess you two have Mr Teye too? Looks like the brothers are in the same class again this year, eh Max?” Jack smirked.
“Whatever.” he said. “Oh, you two, SHUT UP. Look were here now!” she sighed a breath of releif, but then looked at her watch. “And we’re late!”
“Don’t worry, Tan, I’ll handle it.” Max said, doing some macho man pose. He opened the door and said “Soz me and Tan are late, sir. It won’t happe………YOU!!”
Max stared at the teacher. The big glasses, the nerdy outfit, the mass of papers, the guy that he bashed into was….Mr Teye!!
——
dun-dun-duh!
So what do you think? Long, but what do you think?
Exellent A+, it is a very good adaption,nice description but you should use your own imagination(im sure if you’d use your own stories characters it will be better than this already great story). I think you should pursue a author career(im not exaggerating!!).I feel the cliffhanger was a bit uncliffhangerish(i don’t know if thats a word lol!)but for a english peice its great.Mail me with feedback. Peace out!!
Do you think I need to add in more detail? thanks?
Hi, so this is the start to my story but do you think I need to add in more detail? Like, the classroom part – should I describe it more? Do you feel like you connect with Kara or care about what happens to her? Thanks x
If you told me a few months ago that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day Josh spoke to me.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you again, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly
. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly, entered just then and saved me from answering. Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed. I could not help but wonder what his agenda was? There was no way in the world he ‘wanted to get to know me’ there had to be something else. By the time, I mulled this morning’s events over in the hour since class began I concluded, Lydia had put him up to it as some sort of sick joke. Either that or he hit his head hard last night and was suffering from amnesia.
The bell rang, ending my train of thought, and once again, Josh and I were like magnets. Everyone’s head turned around, focusing their eyes on us.
I’m really sorry about the formating it’s YA! fault
Detail? I think not.
you’ve described the main character, Josh and Lydia very well. Or enough to paint an overall picture.
Keep it up, you’ve done yourself proud.
Just bare in mind that there is such a thing as too much detail and your story will sound more like an essay than a nice flowing storyline.
Since you’re telling the story from the first-person point of view you can actually leave out a few details such as the walk home, since she sees the same sights everyday and she sees them as inconsequential, or what her wardrobe consists of. You can even leave out smaller things such as her habits, or facial expressions since as your story progresses the reader will be able to paint their own picture of the main character without being bored with silly little details.
Keep going your story sounds good.
How can I disown or help my daughter?
I am Bipolar and have it under control for several years. I was diagnosed in my teens.
My 23 year old daughter has had since she was 16. She was doing good for a while and then went wild at 18. She goes to visit my parent’s three hours away and got pregnant by some scum bag. He left her and the baby. So she ended up living with my parent’s thinking the DNA donor would come back. She totally took advantage of my parents and still is. She is no longer on meds and is literally psychotic and I see multiple personality in her. She does no wrong in my parent’s eyes. She does work but goes out to bars after work and is out until 3:00 or 4:00am. She tells my mom she is at a friends house. I look on her friends facebook page and there is pictures of my daughter drinking, in bars, and totally wasted. Meanwhile my mom or dad is the one taking care of her son bathing him and tucking him into bed. My parent’s tell me they can not control her because they are afraid she will move out and take her son and he will be in a bad situation. She will not live here because we have rules.
1. She is labeled a slut because she is a bar whore.
2. She dresses in clothes where her boobs pop out and her but crack is always showing
3. She is turning into an alcoholic (which runs on both sides of her family) and we have suspicion of drug use.
4. She hangs with a guy that has warrants out for not paying child support on two kids and skipping bail on dealing marijuana, coke, crack, and meth. She claims it is a lie. I had an attorney friend to look his name up in court records and sure enough it is true.
5. I called my daughter this morning and she became very defensive to me. She was yelling and crying at the same time. I tried to keep a normal voice and not yell back. She called me a Bipolar Bitch, She wished I killed myself when I attempted it years ago, her dad’s girlfriend is her mom and I am dead to her.
6. She tried saying I was mean to her son and I abuse him and I put his life in danger at my house. Everyone knows it is a lie and tell me to ignore her.
7. She has an STD now and claims she was raped. She has pulled the rape story twice before and when we went to file a police report she changed the subject. Now she is claiming it again and wanted to keep it a secret. I asked her when it happened and she claims a long time ago. Well, hanging in brands and dressing like a skank is a call for “rape me.” However, she is with a different guy every week too.
Everything was fine was until I called and confronted about drinking and this guy and then she became a loose cannon. She has hurt me so bad my her words and text messages that I want to disown her. I wanted to help her. How do I help someone not wanting help.
I am so stressed and have no idea what to do!
My dad was just diagnosed with cancer and my daughter still lays around and expects my dad to do everything for her son.
I am involved in many Bipolar Groups and I am a co-founder of one. My daughter denies the drinking and the fact she is Bipolar. She said her doctors her crazy.
I have to leave tomorrow to go take care of my grandson. For her accusing me of abuse is insane. I spoil him too much. My mother even told me when I watch to make him obey.
My goodness this is very bad!
You’re a very strong woman, let me point this out.
My mom is this way with me. It’s like vise-versa.
She wanst me to leave and calls me a who** all that junk.
You should do what I do with my mother.
Hope this helped & God Bless you.
Let her be, let her say everything she wants to you although it hits your heart like a canon.
You know deeeeeeeeep inside, she doesnt mean any of it.
It’s just how she is, and you’ve got to deal with it.
I’m also not saying, always be calm, I’ve had my days where I TRY to be calm, and I explode and I yell back.
But I know I regret it..
I try to keep remembering, she’s bi-polar. Not okay.
Your daughter will see, how she’s gunna miss you, need you.
And hopefully, she will change for you.
Stay strong<3
Read and review the first half of my short story?
I’ve written a short story for a competition. I’m posting the first half, just so I can tell if my writing is good enough or not. If you want to know the plot, it’s here:
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Aj_DopP7lNe02caF3hrl6Wzsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20110302140951AA9cPVJ
And here’s the short story:
Nineteen Years Old And
It’s still raining.
My breath marks the air with semi-transparent shapes that hang, flicker, fade. The restlessness of the rain competes with the percussion of my raging, rambling thoughts. I can’t feel beyond the cold, see beyond the sheeting rain, hear beyond the thrumming of the weather against concrete.
I’m bulging with impatience now. Foot-tapping and elaborate sighs for no one in particular to hear. I expect myself to be immune to this – the bus service around here has always and will always be notoriously unreliable – but I can still feel a swelling inside me. Fit to burst.
I’ve been at college for a year and a half now. Specialising in art. During the former years, words like “prodigy” and “phenomenon” had been tossed around in casual conversation, orbiting around me. Since then? I think I am beginning to dry up. Proof is tucked under my arm, right now, in the form of a ring-bound sketchbook. My child of my ire. It’s bloated with a year’s desperate work. A frantic scrabble for inspiration has been feeding it, accumulating each scrap I come across that meets my dropping standards. I can only blame its massive appetite for its unholy size. The corner now juts from beneath my coat, lapping up the rain, curling the edges of my port-folio.
I hate it. Hate isn’t even the word. Hate is vague. Hate could mean a million things. I loath it. I want to trample it into the dirt. Watch it rot and die. Watch it burn. But I think of all the nights I have wasted, pouring the last of my heart into this hungry parasite, and I cannot surrender it to flames.
“Have you no sense? You’re soaked to the bone! Here, I have… I have an umbrella…”
It takes me a little while to realise she is talking to me. I swivel to meet the eyes of a thirty-something woman, frisking through her bag. She brandishes a polka-dot umbrella, opens it with a heavy thwack! hands it to me, and I let it linger on a breeze above our heads.
I can’t help but notice she looks somewhat like my mother. A younger, livelier version, of course, but the similarities are strong in the waves of her auburn hair and her eyes, the colour of weak tea – traits that have been prominent in our family. The largest different resides beneath the skin. This woman, she seems to glow despite the gloom.
“You came from the college, didn’t you?” she asks tentatively, studying my face.
“I did,” I reply shortly. My mind hunts for something intelligent to say, but I’m just a snowing television in this abrasive cold.
“Studying…?”
“Art,” I reveal a little of my port-folio. “And failing,” I add comically. “Miserably, too.”
Something seems to shift the stranger’s expression. A defiance, an incredulousness. She asks to see my work, bragging that she herself is something of a proclaimed artist. I ask of her name, but she appears too smitten in the sketchbook to reply.
“This is…” her eyes hunt over a section of my work – a man and a woman, kissing. Two paintings of the same, one explains in rich, roasting, almost sickly reds and pinks. The second, a more sober, luscious variant, comprising of royal blues, subtle purples and pleasant cool colours.
“Love and Lust,” I explain carefully, a little humiliated. I’m letting a stranger examine the little sections of my frantic mind, inflicted on innocent white paper.
“I see… red for lust, blue for love?”
I nod sheepishly. Not everyone tends to pick up on those little details. “But it’s all wrong,” I say agitatedly. “His eyes are too close together, and her face is completely out of proportion. They’re terrible.”
There’s a long silence as she flutters through my work. No talking. I can’t find the voice to explain each little slither of paper, crammed into the hungry folder.
“This is… it’s… well…” she struggles for a moment, her eyes falling onto the blank back covers.
“It’s a waste of trees,” I reply, tugging back the sketchbook.
“I don’t think so,” her voice is a whisper. “I think it’s actually… stunningly amazing. I think it’s beautiful. It’s meaningful. It’s so… poignant. Everything has a place. Everything has a reason for being there.”
Naturally, I presume she is joking and crudely laugh away her remarks. But it’s laughter that dulls when I realise she is concretely serious.
“Don’t give up,” she taps the sketchbook and smiles lithely. The long-awaited bus swishes past, but I turn back to face her, thank her, to give her the polka-dot umbrella at least… she is gone. Vanished. Melted into the rain.
I carefully fold the umbrella. It’s still raining, but I can’t feel the cold any more.
Thank you!
I like it, and a lot. Especially this line: This woman, she seems to glow despite the gloom.
For some reason it just makes me smile.
The only thing that I would change about it is maybe adding something before the woman talking, like an introduction to her because when I started reading I thought the student was talking to herself, maybe something like ‘I would have thought no one else but me would dare to go out in a weather like this’ or something among those lines.
How could I improve this?? Is this okay writing?? Would you read on?
Here’s a link to the first part of the first chapter:http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AuSINR4XK2DUJj_q44kMqlXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090517054808AAK29G1
This is the start of the second chapter. Its set in a fictional fantasy version of japan/england/america all mixed together, hence the names.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off me.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said.
i love this story!!! anymore additions? i don’t think there’s any problems with it. good work!!
Is this good writing for a 13 year old? Plz help?
I don’t know how i figured out i was one, Maybe it’s just a little voice inside us all, one that nags every second of your life, scraping your brain and snapping your nerves. like failing a test, or the fact that you know who forgot to feed the gold fish. I guess I first sensed something about me was different was when i was seven. my parents had taken me to the zoo, the best one in the state, because i had recently gotten surgery, and surgery is the next best way to get whatever you want, falling short behind saving a life. I was very small for my age, and I could not see over the cages, so my parents were carrying me. I looked dutifully at the antelopes and llamas, squealed at the monkeys, and played with a goat in the petting zoo. but everything changed when my dad brought me to a cage containing the most beautiful creature i had ever seen. a large, pure white wolf with icy blue eyes. It was looking up at the people walking past with a sad, glassy expression. I could see the jagged scars running from it’s shoulder to it’s leg, and the one slicing it’s muzzle, and a chewed ear. then, it’s gaze fell on me. i know it sounds paranoid, like the wolf was just looking in my direction. but no, no. I knew he was looking directly at me, because when our eyes met, I felt as sad as the wolf looked, and a certain kind of jagged energy ran through me. the wolf tried to drag itsself over to me, because it’s back leg and front paw were a mess. I just stared. I wanted to help, and the fact that I could not was way too much for me to bear. I wriggeled away from my dad and slammed against the cage glass. By now, everybody ws staring at me. “No, Please, Please, what happened to you? What’s wrong? Why? WHY?! Who did this to you?” I yelled at the cage. A voice inside my head seemed to answer back, but I couldn’t hear it now because my head was spinning, and there was a ringing in my ears. And just before I passed out, I saw, like it was happening in front of my very eyes, a magnificent white wolf dodging men with guns, hunter dogs, and some kind of blue mist that was shaped like a dragon’s head with fangs. Then, a large, burly guy threw a dagger, and the wolf stumbled as it sliced a deep gash in his shoulder. Then, in that breif second, a dog tore his muzzle, another one mauled his leg, and a bullet peirced his paw. He was flung into a boulder like a ragdoll and lay there bleeding. Then, just before I was going to scream, I passed out.
I woke up in an emergency room with an I.V. sticking in my arm and an ice pack on my head. I felt dizzy. I raised my hand to look at it, and saw… A jet-black furred paw capped with clear, razor-sharp talons. My eyes widened, and I squeezed them shut and opened them again. The paw was gone, and my small, grubby hand was there. I just stared at it. Then, slowly, I lifted my head and body into a sitting position. Somehow, that felt wrong, so for some reason, I bent my knees, and tucked my hands under me like a cat. What was happening to me? Why was I doing this? Suddenly, a smiling doctor holding an unopened juice-box, a bag of veggie chips, and a puzzle entered the room. He handed me the stuff, and sat down at the foot of my bed. “honey, how are you feeling?” I raised my eyebrows. “Honey, can you tell my your name?”
“Adrienne” I answered, well, that’s what I TRIED to answer, anyway, it came out as a sort of dog-like growl. “honey, could you repeat that?” I shook my head no. “well, tell me something. Something about yourself.” He voiced, trying to keep concern out of his tone. “I- I uh…. I” Another growl rumbled from the back of my throat. I eyed the juice box. The doctor noticed, and inserted the straw into the card board for me. I nodded my thanks and brought it to my lips. I knew I had to suck at the straw, but, somehow, that didn’t work out for me. I casually bit the top off the carton, and began to lap up the contents with my tongue. I only noticed how weird that was when I caught the doctor staring at me. I put the juice down shakily, and shook my head. Then, I numbly picked up the chips and ripped the bag, stuffing my face into the package, swallowing most of the chips whole and growling in the process. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up to see the doctor looking at me, startled. I wanted to apologise, or scream, but instead, I, without controlling myself, growled “back off! This is MY kill! MY prey!” I lunged at him, all this time not controlling anything that I was doing, and watching helplessly, terrified as my own legs and arms carried my through the air and landed my square on the doctor’s chest. I tried to hold myself back as I sunk my teeth into his shoulder and as another growl escaped my lips. The doctor, alarmed, attempted to pull me off, but I dug my fingernails into his white lab coat and continued biting his shoulder. I could taste the saltiness of his blood, plus cherry medicine. Then, I saw a flash of a needle, and I was knocked out again.
Oh wow…That is a really creative idea. You used great vocabulary and you were very descriptive. The only thing you need to work on is some grammar. I think this is good writing for a 13 year old. Here are some things to work on:
1) don’t start a sentence with like, and or but.
2) watch your punctuation. For example when you wrote ” BUT( take it out) everything changed when my dad brought me to a cage containing the most beautiful creature i had ever seen. (should be a collin:) a large, pure white wolf with icy blue eyes.
Please tell me what you think of this story so far? pretty please I need opinions?
Hi, so I wanted to write some sort of love story and I came up with this. What do you think?
If you told me last month that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day I met Josh.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top, “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly entered just then and saved me from answering. Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed. I
I could not help but wonder what his agenda was? There was no way in the world he ‘wanted to get to know me’ there had to be something else. By the time, I mulled this morning’s events over in the hour since class began I concluded, Lydia had put him up to it as some sort of sick joke. Either that or he hit his head hard last night and was suffering from amnesia.
its very good actually. i really liked the way you discribed his hair, very hot,lol. the only thing i thought was contradicting, was the way you said you never had friends untill the day you met josh, but then you said in the next chapter you had always known him, just not well. so my advice would be to change the top part to say ‘that all changed the day josh spoke to me’.
Could you please read this and give me advice on how to improve it??? Its not that long!!!!?
Here’s a link to the first part of the first chapter:http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AuSINR4XK2DUJj_q44kMqlXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090517054808AAK29G1
This is the start of the second chapter. Its set in a fictional fantasy version of japan/england/america all mixed together, hence the names.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off me.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said.
I think its really good. I’m writing a story to, if you go to my questions you can look at it.
Can I have some critique on this piece of writing?? Please?? Would you read it?
This is the start of the second chapter. Reiko was murdered in the first one by one of Natsumi’s friends.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was really gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
hope you enjoy it and that cleared up some confusion !! ^^
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said.
this is set in a fantasy world, a kind of combination of england/japan/america. i’ve only ever read one manga series ever, and that had all english names in
IMPRESSIVE! Some of the better writings i’ve seen in a long while. I can’t even write that well. Although the names seem to remind me of manga names. Do you like to read manga?
Oh really? Only one? But alot of the names seem to be japenese related. Plus your story seems more realistic fiction than anything. You should read more manga. Mangas are really good.
Is the beggingin of my story good? If u like it, sahould I post the second chapter? Plz help!!!!!?
I don’t know how i figured out i was one, Maybe it’s just a little voice inside us all, one that nags every second of your life, scraping your brain and snapping your nerves. like failing a test, or the fact that you know who forgot to feed the gold fish. I guess I first sensed something about me was different was when i was seven. my parents had taken me to the zoo, the best one in the state, because i had recently gotten surgery, and surgery is the next best way to get whatever you want, falling short behind saving a life. I was very small for my age, and I could not see over the cages, so my parents were carrying me. I looked dutifully at the antelopes and llamas, squealed at the monkeys, and played with a goat in the petting zoo. but everything changed when my dad brought me to a cage containing the most beautiful creature i had ever seen. a large, pure white wolf with icy blue eyes. It was looking up at the people walking past with a sad, glassy expression. I could see the jagged scars running from it’s shoulder to it’s leg, and the one slicing it’s muzzle, and a chewed ear. then, it’s gaze fell on me. i know it sounds paranoid, like the wolf was just looking in my direction. but no, no. I knew he was looking directly at me, because when our eyes met, I felt as sad as the wolf looked, and a certain kind of jagged energy ran through me. the wolf tried to drag itsself over to me, because it’s back leg and front paw were a mess. I just stared. I wanted to help, and the fact that I could not was way too much for me to bear. I wriggeled away from my dad and slammed against the cage glass. By now, everybody ws staring at me. “No, Please, Please, what happened to you? What’s wrong? Why? WHY?! Who did this to you?” I yelled at the cage. A voice inside my head seemed to answer back, but I couldn’t hear it now because my head was spinning, and there was a ringing in my ears. And just before I passed out, I saw, like it was happening in front of my very eyes, a magnificent white wolf dodging men with guns, hunter dogs, and some kind of blue mist that was shaped like a dragon’s head with fangs. Then, a large, burly guy threw a dagger, and the wolf stumbled as it sliced a deep gash in his shoulder. Then, in that breif second, a dog tore his muzzle, another one mauled his leg, and a bullet peirced his paw. He was flung into a boulder like a ragdoll and lay there bleeding. Then, just before I was going to scream, I passed out.
I woke up in an emergency room with an I.V. sticking in my arm and an ice pack on my head. I felt dizzy. I raised my hand to look at it, and saw… A jet-black furred paw capped with clear, razor-sharp talons. My eyes widened, and I squeezed them shut and opened them again. The paw was gone, and my small, grubby hand was there. I just stared at it. Then, slowly, I lifted my head and body into a sitting position. Somehow, that felt wrong, so for some reason, I bent my knees, and tucked my hands under me like a cat. What was happening to me? Why was I doing this? Suddenly, a smiling doctor holding an unopened juice-box, a bag of veggie chips, and a puzzle entered the room. He handed me the stuff, and sat down at the foot of my bed. “honey, how are you feeling?” I raised my eyebrows. “Honey, can you tell my your name?”
“Adrienne” I answered, well, that’s what I TRIED to answer, anyway, it came out as a sort of dog-like growl. “honey, could you repeat that?” I shook my head no. “well, tell me something. Something about yourself.” He voiced, trying to keep concern out of his tone. “I- I uh…. I” Another growl rumbled from the back of my throat. I eyed the juice box. The doctor noticed, and inserted the straw into the card board for me. I nodded my thanks and brought it to my lips. I knew I had to suck at the straw, but, somehow, that didn’t work out for me. I casually bit the top off the carton, and began to lap up the contents with my tongue. I only noticed how weird that was when I caught the doctor staring at me. I put the juice down shakily, and shook my head. Then, I numbly picked up the chips and ripped the bag, stuffing my face into the package, swallowing most of the chips whole and growling in the process. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up to see the doctor looking at me, startled. I wanted to apologise, or scream, but instead, I, without controlling myself, growled “back off! This is MY kill! MY prey!” I lunged at him, all this time not controlling anything that I was doing, and watching helplessly, terrified as my own legs and arms carried my through the air and landed my square on the doctor’s chest. I tried to hold myself back as I sunk my teeth into his shoulder and as another growl escaped my lips. The doctor, alarmed, attempted to pull me off, but I dug my fingernails into his white lab coat and continued biting his shoulder. I could taste the saltiness of his blood, plus cherry medicine. Then, I saw a flash of a needle, and I was knocked out again
I think it was great!! the i(s) need to be changed into I(s) but other than that it was A-MAZ-ING!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and fantastic vocabulary
What do you think about this beginning?
Here’s the beginning from the novel I’m working on. I just want some opinions. Be honest!
Forget everything you ever knew about fact and fiction. Believe me, more than half of it all are just lies and nonsense. But I guess I should explain a little. First of all, my name is Alexander Baal Capwell. I was born in Lexington Park, Maryland, and I am sixteen years old. Second, I have abilities. Not your run of the mill, I-can-lick-my-elbow type of abilities. I’m talking about moving stuff with my mind, reading peoples thoughts, even setting things on fire. Crazy right? Wrong. Which brings me to the third explanation. I’m hunted. By whom you might ask? Just old Uncle Sam or the United States of America. I’m sure you think I’m crazy. Hell, I even think I’m crazy sometimes. But it’s all very much true. It all started about three weeks ago.
“Dude. She totally likes you! You need to ask her out on a date!” my friend Tucker yelped at me while I entered my locker combination. Tucker was always on my case about Alice. It’s not that I didn’t like Alice. Actually, it was quite the contrary. I liked Alice. I liked her a lot. Probably too much. But I hated how Tucker always butted in. Best friend or no, it was still none of his business.
“I’m not asking her on a date Tucker. I don’t even know whether she likes me or not.” My locker came open with a clang and I pulled my book bag off of my back. I started to load up my bag with next period’s books. Biochemistry. Lovely.
“She does! I heard her and Rachel in the hallway last period. They were talking about you! Rachel was trying to convince Alice you like her.”
“No one knows I like her Tuck,” I spat back. This obsession Rachel and Tucker had with hooking Alice and me up was getting old fast.
“Well it’s not like the whole school doesn’t know,” Tucker muttered under his breath.
I grumbled unintelligibly as I zipped up my bag. I turned to face Tucker and slung the bag over my shoulder. “Why do you care so much anyways? You’ve always wanted me to ask her out. What’s the big deal?”
“I just want to see you happy man,” came the response. But it didn’t quite ring true.
“So let me get this straight. You’ve nagged me about Alice ever since the ninth grade, just to see me ‘happy”? Come on dude. What’s the real reason?”
Tucker’s dark brown skin reddened a little in embarrassment. He smiled at me sheepishly, and looked down at the ground.
I was right. My personal well-being had little, if anything to do with Tucker trying to hook Alice and I up. What a jerk. I made my face blank as I waited for him to answer.
“Okay. You finally caught me Alex,” Tucker said, his eyes still on the floor. “So maybe Rachel and I made a deal not to date until we hooked you and Alice up.”
Ah. Well that made since. Tuck couldn’t get any until I got some. I barked a laugh. That was just like Tucker. He had jumped when I had blurted out the laugh, but now that he saw that I wasn’t furious beyond all reason, he stood straighter and raised his eyes to meet mine.
Then we both burst into laughs and I grinned at him. But suddenly a thought struck me.
“Hey Tuck, when did you make that deal with Rachel? You know I’ve liked Alice since the ninth grade.”
Tucker, seeing where I was directing the conversation, grinned himself.
“Don’t worry bro, we made the deal about a week ago. Believe me, I would not wait for sex for three years. Even for you. I have certain needs.” To emphasize his point, he made a hole with his finger and thumb, and stuck another finger in the hole. Classy.
“Well Tucker for your sake I’ll see what I can do, alright?”
Tucker shook his head.
“Alright man. But you need to hurry up. I’m ready for some action!”
“Sure you are. Lets head to biochemistry! Hurray!”
At the word biochemistry, Tucker’s smile was wiped right off of his face. I couldn’t help but laugh. Tucker hated biochemistry with a fiery passion. I was actually pretty sure Satan hated God less than Tucker hated Biochemistry, lord of everything biological and chemical.
“Cheer up Tuck. Only four more weeks of school and then we’re home free,” I said.
“Well yeah, but four weeks is a long time bro. A really, really, long time.”
I barked out another laugh.
We turned down the hall and began the dread-filled walk to biochemistry. I stared blankly at the poster-covered walls. Pieces of paper stapled to the white brick promoting prom, graduation, and other important school events. There was even a poster with vowels on it. I hated this school. We were sixteen, nearly adults, but the school just continued to treat us like we were four. God in heaven, I wanted to burn this place to the ground.
The school was the average size of a high school, large enough to hold all of the students trapped in side, but small enough not to induce a feeling of space and room. In fact, I constantly felt crowded and claustrophobic when I was stuck in the belly of this educational beast.
We turned the corner at a run in order t
1. First-person teenage ‘superpower’ stories have been overdone to death, then zombified, then re-overdone to death. You’re writing for a very competitive genre, mon frere, so you had better be writing this different and better then the thousands of other people out there.
2.Tucker’s ‘needs’? Uh, ew. It’s not even artistic. That’s just gross for no reason. Get it together.
3. There really isn’t much to this story right now. Like, for serious. It’s mildly interesting, but the dialogue is weak at best, and the detail is juvenile. Kick this up a notch – throw some major plot twists in quickly, otherwise you won’t keep your readers past the second page.
How to cure my scaredy-cat 7 year old of this new fear?
My daughter has had night terrors since she was 2 years old. It got bad after her father and her bio-mom (I’m the step) divorced, and then when she began to live with us full time (instead of seeing her mom every weekend they got a little better. She still had them, but instead of every night it would happen once or twice a week. Then we moved out of state and away from virtually all of our family. (Her mom had already left the state two years ago) and her nightmares virtually disappeared. She still talked in her sleep but she didn’t wake up screaming anymore. She hasn’t had one in over 6 months. Well, we went back to our old hometown to visit family. We are staying with my folks, but she wanted to spend the night with her two cousins on her dad’s side, so I let her stay last Friday and Saturday nights. On Friday night her 8 year old cousin also had a school friend come and stay the night. The girls asked to watch a movie in another room and of course my SIL let them, but they got on youtube instead and the school friend showed my niece and daughter this video that was supposed to be funny but ended with that scary face popping up and screaming bloody murder. My sister-in-law heard the scream and went in to investigate and found my 7 year old curled up on the floor and unwilling to uncover her eyes.
Now my 7 year old has reverted! She won’t go into a hallway or up the stairs without turning on the lights. She leaves every light burning even if she’s not in the room. She’s breaking down in tears about going to bed and she’s always been so good about going to bed. She’s having nightmares (multiple nightmares a night) and last night when I went in to check on my 1 year old (they share a room) my 7 year old was still wide awake. She’s normally up by seven every morning, but so far every day this week she’s slept until 9:30 or later because she’s not sleeping at night or not getting restful sleep at night. Tonight when I went up to read to her and tuck her in I found her crying because she was praying that God would erase the memory and she said she’d prayed every night since she saw it and it still hadn’t happened.
She’s always been a little more timid than most children and is seriously afraid right now. I don’t know what to do. How can I help her? I’m getting really concerned. She’s starting to look like the walking dead, big bags under eyes, staring off into space, having a hard time concentrating…I just want to help her, but I don’t know what to do. Any advice?
I think the best thing would be take her to a child psychologist, there might be an underlying cause for her night terrors.
Just be sure to reassure her that there’s nothing to be scared of, that you’ll be there to protect her from anything bad. Maybe try playing soothing music at night, so it takes her mind off things.
I’m a 33 year old man, does anyone know of any good products to help with bad dark circles and puffy bags?
I’ve had them for months and I’m not doing anything crazy like missing sleep, or partying too much. The eye puffiness came on all of a sudden and have got worse and worse, then follwed by dark circles under and around my eyes.
A friend of a friend is doctor (GP) and he said to go for a product containing something called eyseryl, as its meant to be the best ingredient to solve the dark circle problem. He’d used a product from america with this ingredient – joten dark circles, but company is now bust, but apparantly it worked well.
I wonder if anyone can help me, as I really don’t want to spend money on any products that don’t work this side of Xmas as I’m limited with funds at the moment. My dark circles are very bad, almost blueish and purple in colour. I wonder if anyone knows of the best product? I have looked at Manceuticals Dark Circle eye treatment at Harvey Nichols in Knightsbridge and Skin Doctors Eye Tuck in House of Fraser and Dermaximne online. I have spoken to their sales people and they all seem to say they work. So I really don’t know what to go for.
Can anyone help?
What do you think of my short story?
I have to write a short story for school max 800 words, i need to hand it in tomorrow.
I was just wondering if you guys could tell me what you thought of it..
thankyou
After hours on the computer i thought it was time to go to bed.
I dragged myself away from the computer screen wondering if my friend had replied on facebook.
I stumbled towards the bathroom to brush my teeth.
The idea of being nestled in my bed on a cold winters night became more intrigueing as i brushed my teeth and got a drink of water.
My back hunched over, my feet dragging along the floor i grew closer and closer to my bed.
I completed my nightly ritual by turning off the computer and pulling my numerous pillows off my bed.
No longer able to stay awake i made myself comftorable in my bed, tucking my sheets into my sides, blocking out the cold air.
Laying looking at the white roof, I lay in silence thinking about numerous things in hopes of drifting off to sleep.
Around 3am i awoke from a deep sleep.
I tossed and turned in hopes of yet again falling back to sleep ready for an early morning.
The bitter, cold silence that surrounded the room was almost unbearable, it became unsettling.
So i opened my eyes slowly to pitch black surroundings, unable to to see anything.
I stumbled out of bed stepping on clothes, bags, books and shoes going on a treasure hunt to find the TV in my room.
When i found the TV i turned on my favourite movie ‘Grease’.
The brightness of the TV was like staring at the sun intently, i briskly shut my eyes, slowly weaning them open as i got used to the light.
I found listening to background sound always helped me sleep.
Back to my bed i stumbled making it back with only a few bruises, i then tried to fall asleep.
Slowly i found myslef drifting to sleep when i was startled by the sound of scratching.
My heart suddenly was pounding out my chest.
The scratching was then followed by the sounds of screeching and whispers, it was like i was in a horror movie.
I buried myself under my blankets like a little child thinking it was my force field for protection.
seconds felt like minutes as i waited panick stricken wondering what would happen next.
The whispers felt as though they grew closer and closer, but what was being said, i couldnt make out.
‘This is all in my head, this is all in my head’ I chanted this to myself over and over again.
The scratching then continued, i was scared more than i ever had been before, i wished this was all just a dream.
All noises suddenly stopped without warning, i hoped it was for good.
Startled, i lay still with the background noise of ‘Grease lightning’ hoping the noises would not begin again.
The anticipation almost killed me, i slowly poked my head out of the blanket covers looking around at the dark room.
Nothing could be seen but the light from the TV.
I felt a shiver shoot down my spine, fear struck me, i could barely move.
I wondered whether to make a run for it or just to stay and hope for the best.
Before i had time to even think about this, it happened…
It appeared, cold air surrounded me, my body froze with fear.
It felt as though something was rapped around me, I lost my breathe for a second trying to get my head around the fact that this was really happening.
As i tried to make a run for it, thinking this was my best option, i felt a force push me back, i was then unable to break free.
I felt helpless, like there was nothing i could do to save myself, my best option was to scream.
I tryed to scream as loud as humanly possible, but nothing?
No noise could be heard.
Frantically, I then tried to scream again but no luck.
Making it out of this room alive didnt seem like a possibility.
I felt it’s presence in the room with me.
A black figure slowly appeared from beyond my door, the cold air i felt coming closer towards me gave me goosebumps.
Slowly the figure became more clear as it came closer to my bed, It didn’t seem like any type of creature, it was a figure of what looked like a woman.
Unknowingly I squinted my eyes to look closer at the mysterious woman.
The only detail i could recover in the darkness was long, thick, whispy, black hair.
Squinting some more, i could no longer see her, i searched around the room to find her standing next to my bed.
I jumped in the air shocked to see the figure standing there.
She stood still looking at me intently as if she was studying me and tilted her head to the side as dogs do.
Her hand appeared from the darkness, it came closer, i automatically pulled away in fear trying to pull against the force that was holding me there.
She didnt flinch, just continued to bring her hand closer to my skin.
Her long bony hand came towards my face.
She touched her cold, rough fingers to my face and ran them slowly down my face.
I flinched to dissapprove, she then pulled away quickly in fear and dissappeared into the shadows.
She comes to visit me some nights when i feel her presence in t
I think it’s a good story.
Opinions on my novel? (1st chapter) Critisism welcome!?
This is the first chapter of my “novel” and I really want the public’s unbiased views. (NOTE: You can’t really indent or italize on this… so..)
The rickety old red two-seat car whistled to a stop. The shiny cars at the intersection whirred slowly by and the old luggage in the back seat rattled and jolted back as the car stopped. I ticked the steering wheel impatiently with my fingers. I was moving in with my loud older brother Jude and his wild friends. The tiny apartment was filled with beige and brown from tiny, plain dorms from the guys’ college days. I sat quietly pushing the pedal lightly, nearly finishing my long trip from home.
I lugged my suitcase out of the cramped elevator and made my way up to Jude’s apartment. After a short, quick series of knocks, the doorknob twisted.
“You must be Alex!” A handsome man at the door smiled. He had strong, rugged features, and dark shaggy hair. “I’m River. Jude’s told me so much about you.”
He hugged me around the shoulders, and I could feel the muscles on his arms on the nape of my neck.
He kept his arm around my shoulder, and grabbed the suitcase from my hand. “I’ll take this upstairs for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling up at him. River looked at me, smiling, and lowered his arm from my shoulder to my mid-waist. I tensed, and my back arched involuntarily. However, his hand wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt normal, as if his touch had been there my entire life. He must have felt my strain, because his hand slid back up to cup my shoulder.
“You know where my brother is?”
“I’m not sure. He’s somewhere around here,” he said. He then shouted in a smooth voice, “Jude!”
I smiled at him timidly. I hadn’t known this man for more than a minute, and I already couldn’t bring myself to talk.
“Jude?” I said, cupping my hand next to my mouth.
“Lex!” he yelled, running out of a room at the end of the long hallway. I hugged him as strongly as I could. “I’m so excited you’re here! I see you met River.”
“Yeah, we met.” He said, said, smiling a calm grin at me.
“Good. You’ll love it here, Lex!” Jude beamed.
“I’m so happy to be here too! It’s so good to see you and River,” I said. River turned and went into what I assumed was his room, in a fluid, even movement. I turned to Jude, and asked, “Where’s my room?”
“Let me show you,” he smirked. He opened a door to a modest twin bed without sheets and a window without dressings. How lovely.
“This is…nice,” I said, exaggerating my pause, and rolling my eyes while keeping our eye contact. I crossed my arms. I added dramatically, “Wow, there’s no revamp needed here at all!”
“You can do whatever you want with it. Paint, whatever.” He said. He then mumbled indistinguishable words under his breath.
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine.”
“Okay then,” Jude added awkwardly, and left the room. I sighed and began to unpack my things into a dark-stained wood dresser. I sighed at the dull surroundings, and tensed at the sound of knock on the door.
“Hey. How’s the moving in going?” River’s voice sounded as he opened the door. He leaned his back against the wall, and folded his arms.
“Fine,” I answered abruptly. He walked over to me and sat behind me on my plain, undressed bed.
“You don’t need any help?” He asked, in an obvious attempt to be polite.
“I…I’m fine, thanks, thanks anyways though.” I stuttered nervously, and tucked away a strand of hair. I looked over my shoulder and saw him looking peaceful and happy behind me.
“Well, if you need any help, I’ll be there,” he said, shrugging and walking out the door. I sighed. I finished unpacking as fast as I could, and set my colossal makeup bag and bottle of perfume on my dresser. Looking around at the dull surroundings again, I decided to go out and search for items for my room.
I grabbed my purse, and walked to the door. I shouted, “I’m going to be out if anyone needs me!”
Running came from the other end of the apartment.
“Hey, can I come?” River asked, with eyes as wide and shiny as marbles.
“I’m going shopping for my room,” I said, clutching my purse and biting my lip.
“Can I come anyways?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, and smiled.
Your book has a fairly good start! I love romance books which looks like this ones heading that direction…. It has a small margin for improvement though….
The character River had a good introduction shadowing that Lex will fall for him in some way…. But if you put them together right away you will have writers block sooner…. I suggest creating a little bit a tention between them first (akward flirting, stuff like that) then in chapter 3 or so have one ask the other out or have a spontanious kiss y a local lake or something!
If you dont want to wait for there little romance then go for it but let the characters get to know eachother a little bit more first, in the entry you posted he sounds lkike a player who just wants to “get some”….. i say this because they know eachother for less than 3 minutes and he already has his hands on her waist
Hope this helps
OH and if you want to make things a lil bit interesting make it a secret love (hide relationship from brother then randomly he finds out via finding them kissing or “walking in”) or even an old fashioned love triangle (make her emotions split between two people…. an old boyfriend or childood crush and the new sexy rugged man)
Any way you do your book you sound like you will make it GREAT!!!
GOOD LUCK!!!
Can I have opinions on the start of this story? I’ve changed a few things?
Hi, so I wanted to write some sort of love story and I came up with this. What do you think?
If you told me last month that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day Josh spoke to me.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top, “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly entered just then and saved me from answering. Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed.
I could not help but wonder what his agenda was? There was no way in the world he ‘wanted to get to know me’ there had to be something else. By the time, I mulled this morning’s events over in the hour since class began I concluded, Lydia had put him up to it as some sort of sick joke. Either that or he hit his head hard last night and was suffering from amnesia.
A few others said they became confused. I’m not sure why. You had a few grammatical errors but everything played in just fine. I agree that if you had play dates when you were younger then you may have a stronger relationship. Just say you two used to sit on the merry go round together in kindergarten ha-ha …i think the story is very cute and not at all cliche, just geared toward teens…there is no way in the world someone can truly be original these days to the full extent…i mean everything has been used, but its up to us to bring it back to life and your idea of teenaged love is interesting and i’d like to read more. But be aware that other people will get bored easily because it just may sound like it’s been used before. They can’t appreciate a writer’s choice of words. Two people can write the same exact story, but i’d read both of them because their choice of words is what makes it good writing. Many don’t understand that the story alone isn’t suppose to be the hype of reading, as for you…don’t change this, its great, just revise your errors
Please can you tell me what you think to the start of my story?
If you told me a few months ago that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day Josh spoke to me.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you again, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly, entered just then and saved me from answering. Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed. I could not help but wonder what his agenda was?
There was no way in the world he ‘wanted to get to know me’ there had to be something else. By the time, I mulled this morning’s events over in the hour since class began I concluded, Lydia had put him up to it as some sort of sick joke. Either that or he hit his head hard last night and was suffering from amnesia.
The bell rang, ending my train of thought, and once again, Josh and I were like magnets. Everyone’s head turned around, focusing their eyes on us.
Wow, this is AWESOME. Where can I read more of this?
Please, please help? If you know English and have a sense of what good writing is, will you please read this?
This is my first draft of my character sketch.
She is a young girl. Her life has barely started, yet she has seen more than the most highest ranked policeman.
You see her in the market square, clutching her torn backpack, eyes darting around, trying to spot spare change on the ground. You see her on the streets, lank hair hiding her face in shadows, her body tense. You see her in the brick alleys, under a grey blanket, trying to tempt a sleep she knows will never come. You see her in the park, half hidden in the shrubbery, staring blankly, unseeingly, at the childish equipment in front of her.
Everyone sees her.
No one cares.
Ashen, dark and withering, she walks around the city. Wearing torn, dirty jeans and a big heavy sweater, she’s a lifeless gypsy, trying to forget her past, living in a muddled present, with no future. She doesn’t accept help, and doesn’t believe in trust. She avoids everyone and everything. She has nothing to find comfort in, nothing to look forward to, and nothing to live for, but everything to run away from.
Her grey eyes are half shut windows to her soul; a past she tried to escape. Now she is living in a haze, a half dead world.
She always has her backpack, a torn bag with some of her limited possessions: a grime covered comb, a cracked mirror, a pink blanket, now grey, reeking slightly of baby formula, spare change, crumbs of food, a small blood crusted knife, and a plastic bag.
At the bottom of the bag, tucked in between the seams, are four old, crinkled photos: a photo of an old woman, sitting in a rocking chair, holding up her knitting in front of her face to hide it from the camera; a wedding photo of a plump, rosy cheeked lady and a shallow skinned man who had the pinched, shrunken look of someone who has lost a lot of weight in a short time; another photo of the couple, but an year or so later, showing the mother’s arms tightly wrapped around a baby girl, her eyes rapturously looking at the child’s face, while the father, looking even more yellowy and unhealthy, looked away, a half sneer, half contemptuous look on his face; a photo, obviously taken by the subject herself, for there were fingers in the camera’s way, showing a mutilated arm, red, bloody and scabby, with burn marks and various cuts. The photos with the father in them had been scratched, leaving various white lines where the father’s heads were.
She never talks, for there is no one there to listen. Sometimes she mutters and mumbles things while she sleeps, is walking, or revisiting her horrid, marked up past. From time to time, she sings in a low, soft, breathy voice. Occasionally, when she finds discarded, half used art supplies, she slowly paints on the buildings: dark and complex pictures combined with words.
Ssssshhh—tt. The paint can is over. Her painting’s unfinished. But she still wanted to do more to it, change it, fix it up and make it prettier. Struggling a bit, she gets up from the ground, throws the spray paint can away and shuffles off, frail arms keeping her bag hanging limply by her side.
__________________________________________________________
After reading this, do you get a clear impression of the character? What do you visualize?
What should I change, add, kee, cut out, rethink? Any suggestions? Please tell my exactly what you think of it, don’t just say “nice!” or something like that….but all help is aprreaciated, thank you all!
I think the wording is exactly how it should be. You really painted the image of the character well. If you were trying to go for the unreliable narrator, perfect. you did it perfectly. You gave just enough information to make me curious about this character.
The phrase “see has seen more than the highest ranked policeman,” feels a litle wierd. You should find a better way to put it like maybe. “Drained of all the innocence one would expect of a girl her age.” And also, don’t be afraid to over emphasize something to the point where you use a one word paragraph. like
“Everyone sees her.
No one cares.
Alone.
Without a friend.”
otherwise, it’s a great start to what sounds like a very deeply developed character. I hope the story ends up this good. ^^
Can you take a look at this please?
Let’s see, I was bored when I wrote this, and I’m pretty much a beginner. Be as harsh as you want. Fix anything you can, or want to, please. Leave comments, and help me improve. I want to get better.
Please and thank-you so much!
~~
He seemed so perfect. He always called me beautiful, and never sexy. Because he knows how much I hate it when I got called that. He would give me daisies, because he knew I hated roses. He would tuck my hair behind me ear and tell me that he loves me. He would always be so sweet and kiss me so softly. Until he changed.
He started coming home later, and I would smell the Whiskey and the Marlboro on his breath. He got bags under his eyes, and they were glazing over. Soon, he was doing pot and smoking Mary-J’s. He was changing before my very eyes, and I was helpless. Every time I begged him to stop, he would yell at me. And then the abuse started.
It started with when I forgot he wanted bacon for dinner. He didn’t normally ask for meat, because he knew I was a vegetarian. I thought it was perfectly reasonable to forget because, well, it was meat. He thought differently. By the time he was done beating me, I was covered in bruises and my own blood.
Afterwards, he gently cuddled me close and wiped away the blood with a warm towel. He promised it would never happen again, and I believed him. It would have been fine, except it did happen again. And again.
I wanted to get away from him, but it was already to late. He said he would kill me if I ever left him. He said that if he couldn’t have me, no one could. So I stayed, because I was terrified of him. Scared to stay with him, scared to leave. There didn’t seem to be any hope for me.
But then I met her. Her name was Zoë. Her hair was red and her eyes were gray. She looked like an angel. Somehow I knew she would be the one to save me. I knew she would be the angel who pulled me out of my hell, and I hadn’t even spoken one word to her yet.
She had caught my eye from across the room, and from the smile she gave me, I knew she knew I was staring. She started to walk over to me, and I quickly looked away.
@ Margret: What can I do to fix it then?
Thank you very much Miss Juliet and L K.
Excuse length – constructive critique – no rewrites – suggestions – examples…
1. Eliminate the period between “…never sexy [.] because he knew how much….”
2. Tense changes need fixing.
2a. Either use present tense more often – or use past tense.
3. “Whiskey” needs no capitalization. “Marlboro” does, because it’s a brand name.
3a. Whiskey comes in a wide variety of brand names.
3b. Marlboro is unneeded – it asks the question:
3b2. How does the narrator know what kind of cigarette?
4. It’s unnecessary to use an ‘s’ on the word “Afterward[s]….”
5. Eliminate as many prepositions as you can… “to, if, of, about, under, so” and more.
5a. Preps make writing passive-voice. This is an action story.
6. I would also cut “[But]…” to… “Then I met her.” Your choice.
A great rule in “Strunk and White: The Elements of Style” is…
…” Omit unneeded words.”
Try it. It works.
Good luck, and know all good writers do many revisions.
Please read this??? I’m desperate for critics!!! Promise its not very long!!!!?
This is the start of the second chapter. Reiko was murdered in the first one by one of Natsumi’s friends.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was really gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said.
I liked it! you’re very good at writing, it’s descriptive and detailed. i could see the scene in my head.
i think you need to read through to make sure all the grammer is correct
eg:
‘but I still had trouble believing it she was really gone.’
should be
‘but i still had trouble believing she was gone.’
just make sure everything makes sense, with the grammar.
but where is the story going? what’s the plot?
can you put a link up to the first chapter? so i can read it and see what happened there. that might help me understand more
much appreciated!
but very good! i’d like to read more
Does eye tuck technology actually work?
So theres a cream out there called “Eyetuck” and other similar products that reduces the bags under your eyes. Some days, I get large bags on my eyes and some days I do not, there is really no relation to the amount of sleep I get. So I thought that this cream could help, but I am not sure if it works and so I would appreciate it if some one who has heard of this and used it could give me their opinion. Or if you have other solutions for getting rid of baggy eyes. Also, I would like to note that I am a teenage male.
Why don’t you try Hollywood Eye Magic? It is amazing and really works. It is not a temporary fix it really will take care of your puffy eyes. Have a look at this video.
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=zQO_Mzqsuq0
You need a product that will strengthen your under eye tissue. This will do it as it has done for thousands of people.
I need help! Please!?
Could you guys PLEASE give me some ideas for where this could go? And some writing tips? And also some feedback, thanks! Be honest.
My stomach was fluttering with anticipation. It felt like there were 1,000 butterflies wanting to burst out and escape from my body. Mark was coming home tonight from his 3 month trip to Japan. It was 11:15 at night and I was starting to get worried. He said he didn’t need me to pick him up from the airport and insisted I wait for him at our house. Waiting was not something I enjoyed doing.
I hear a car door shut and look out the window in the living room, there is a bright yellow taxi already driving away and Mark was walking up the driveway. I jump up from the couch, run to the front door and swing it open. He was standing there looking at me with that sexy smirk he always wore. His green eyes looked tired and his black hair was windblown and shaggy. “Mark,” I whispered. I flung myself at him and he dropped the duffel bag he had, and wrapped me in his arms.
His touch was so familiar and comforting, I felt safe. Without a word he broke from our embrace, picked up his duffel bag and walked inside. I followed him, hungry for his touch and attention. I closed the front door and found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, he was staring at his hands that were clasped in his lap. I slowly sat next to him, sensing something was bothering him. “How was your trip,” I ask lightly, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“Never again. Never again am I going to Japan,” He replied gruffly.
I frowned but didn’t ask anymore questions, the trip was obviously not enjoyable. “I missed you so much, Mark,” I say quietly.
“Damn, I missed you to, Jenna. I hated being away from you for so long,” He said my name like it was painful.
“Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore,” I say. He slowly unclasped his hands and cupped my face with them. His eyes searched mine, almost desperately. “Do you love me,” He asked with savage desperation.
“Mark, why would you ask such a stupid question? Of course I love you,” I say. “I want to be with you forever. Mark, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” He had a distant look in his eyes now, and he looked worried. “You’re going to get old. You’re going to die someday,” He said quietly. I was confused, why was he saying this? “So are you, Mark. Let’s not talk about that now. I’m not going to die anytime soon, and neither are you,” I say. He was still cupping my face, but he was holding it tightly.
“You really want to be with me forever,” He asked almost sadly.
“Yes, Mark, I love you. I never want to lose you,” I grab his shirt with both my hands and pull him to me. Our faces just inches apart, I close the gap. Our lips touched softly and I put my hand on his shoulder, he was tense and rigid. He moved his lips to my neck and stared kissing it. “Stop, Mark! Mark, stop that tickles,” I laughed. Then there was a sharp pain in my neck similar to the feeling of getting a shot. I shoved Mark away from me and stood up. Mark looked different, like and animal, savage and wild. I put my hand to my neck trying to stop the sharp throbbing.
I felt something wet and pulled my hand away, I stared at my hand in horror, it was covered in blood. I felt faint and slumped back onto the couch. Mark grabbed my hand, and yanked me up. He licked my palm smiling wickedly. I screamed and started crying. “Why,” I ask between sobs. “Why are you doing this?” Then I become dizzy and everything goes black.
I wake up to the smell of blood. I was in the master bedroom tucked under the covers of the king sized bed. Blood was all over the sheets and there was a trail of it on the floor. I sat up slowly and looked at the clock, it read 6:09 am. The events of last night hit like a wave, unpleasant and hard to escape. I try to get out of bed but fall to the floor. I grab hold of the dresser and push myself up.
My legs were shaking and my head was spinning, but I had to get out here, I had to go somewhere safe, because I obviously wasn’t safe here. Using pieces of furniture to hold myself up, I get to the bedroom door. “Where are you going?” a voice asks. The voice is so familiar it hurts. I stop my sad attempt at walking and turn around, standing right in front of me is Mark. His shirt is covered in blood, I’m suddenly blinded with rage and I can no longer hold myself up. I start to fall forward but he catches me. “Don’t touch me,” I say weakly.
“Jenna-,” He starts, but I cut him off. “I said don’t touch me,” I manage to push him away. Regaining my balance I turn to him and punch him with all the strength I have left. My punch didn’t really do anything, but it felt good to cause him at least a little pain. He looked shocked, then upset. “Just let me explain what happened last night,” He says desperately.
“Can you even explain what happened last night?”
Bre,
I believe I commented and edited a bit of your work before. I like this. I did a bit of editing once again to show you a better way to use some of your sentences. All in all it’s a nice piece of work. The only thing about first person POV is the darn ( I this and I that ). I’m not fond of 1st person POV for that reason.
Check out my three paragraphs and you decide.
My stomach was fluttering with anticipation. It felt like there were a thousand butterflies wanting to burst out and escape from my body. Mark was coming home tonight from his three month trip to Japan. It was 11:15pm and I was starting to get worried. He said he didn’t need me to pick him up from the airport and insisted I wait for him at our house. Waiting was not something I enjoyed doing.
I heard a car door shut and looked out the window in the living room. There was a bright yellow taxi already driving away, and Mark was walking up the driveway. I jumped up from the couch, ran to the front door and swung it open. He was standing there looking at me with that sexy smirk he sometimes had on his face. His green eyes looked tired and his black hair was windblown and shaggy.
“Mark,” I whispered. I flung myself at him. He dropped the duffel bag and wrapped me in his arms.
His touch was so familiar and comforting, and I once again felt safe. Without a word he broke from our embrace, picked up his duffel bag and walked inside. I followed him, hungry for his touch and attention. I closed the front door and found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. I slowly sat next to him, sensing something was bothering him.
“How was your trip,” I ask lightly, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“Never again. Never again am I going to Japan,” He replied gruffly.
Good luck!
PJ M
I need help! Please!?
Could you guys PLEASE give me some ideas? And some writing tips? And also some feedback, thanks! Be honest.
My stomach was fluttering with anticipation. It felt like there were 1,000 butterflies wanting to burst out and escape from my body. Mark was coming home tonight from his 3 month trip to Japan. It was 11:15 at night and I was starting to get worried. He said he didn’t need me to pick him up from the airport and insisted I wait for him at our house. Waiting was not something I enjoyed doing.
I hear a car door shut and look out the window in the living room, there is a bright yellow taxi already driving away and Mark was walking up the driveway. I jump up from the couch, run to the front door and swing it open. He was standing there looking at me with that sexy smirk he always wore. His green eyes looked tired and his black hair was windblown and shaggy. “Mark,” I whispered. I flung myself at him and he dropped the duffel bag he had, and wrapped me in his arms.
His touch was so familiar and comforting, I felt safe. Without a word he broke from our embrace, picked up his duffel bag and walked inside. I followed him, hungry for his touch and attention. I closed the front door and found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, he was staring at his hands that were clasped in his lap. I slowly sat next to him, sensing something was bothering him. “How was your trip,” I ask lightly, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“Never again. Never again am I going to Japan,” He replied gruffly.
I frowned but didn’t ask anymore questions, the trip was obviously not enjoyable. “I missed you so much, Mark,” I say quietly.
“Damn, I missed you to, Jenna. I hated being away from you for so long,” He said my name like it was painful.
“Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore,” I say. He slowly unclasped his hands and cupped my face with them. His eyes searched mine, almost desperately. “Do you love me,” He asked with savage desperation.
“Mark, why would you ask such a stupid question? Of course I love you,” I say. “I want to be with you forever. Mark, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” He had a distant look in his eyes now, and he looked worried. “You’re going to get old. You’re going to die someday,” He said quietly. I was confused, why was he saying this? “So are you, Mark. Let’s not talk about that now. I’m not going to die anytime soon, and neither are you,” I say. He was still cupping my face, but he was holding it tightly.
“You really want to be with me forever,” He asked almost sadly.
“Yes, Mark, I love you. I never want to lose you,” I grab his shirt with both my hands and pull him to me. Our faces just inches apart, I close the gap. Our lips touched softly and I put my hand on his shoulder, he was tense and rigid. He moved his lips to my neck and stared kissing it. “Stop, Mark! Mark, stop that tickles,” I laughed. Then there was a sharp pain in my neck similar to the feeling of getting a shot. I shoved Mark away from me and stood up. Mark looked different, like and animal, savage and wild. I put my hand to my neck trying to stop the sharp throbbing.
I felt something wet and pulled my hand away, I stared at my hand in horror, it was covered in blood. I felt faint and slumped back onto the couch. Mark grabbed my hand, and yanked me up. He licked my palm smiling wickedly. I screamed and started crying. “Why,” I ask between sobs. “Why are you doing this?” Then I become dizzy and everything goes black.
I wake up to the smell of blood. I was in the master bedroom tucked under the covers of the king sized bed. Blood was all over the sheets and there was a trail of it on the floor. I sat up slowly and looked at the clock, it read 6:09 am. The events of last night hit like a wave, unpleasant and hard to escape. I try to get out of bed but fall to the floor. I grab hold of the dresser and push myself up.
My legs were shaking and my head was spinning, but I had to get out here, I had to go somewhere safe, because I obviously wasn’t safe here. Using pieces of furniture to hold myself up, I get to the bedroom door. “Where are you going?” a voice asks. The voice is so familiar it hurts. I stop my sad attempt at walking and turn around, standing right in front of me is Mark. His shirt is covered in blood, I’m suddenly blinded with rage and I can no longer hold myself up. I start to fall forward but he catches me. “Don’t touch me,” I say weakly.
“Jenna-,” He starts, but I cut him off. “I said don’t touch me,” I manage to push him away. Regaining my balance I turn to him and punch him with all the strength I have left. My punch didn’t really do anything, but it felt good to cause him at least a little pain. He looked shocked, then upset. “Just let me explain what happened last night,” He says desperately.
“Can you even explain what happened last night?”
Yea, you skip between present and past tense. It isn’t intentional but if you are going to write in present double check everything to make sure it really is in present. My advice, especially as I don’t like books written in present, is to write in the past. It’s much easier to maintain it in the right tense and you don’t have to be as strict in re-reading to make sure there aren’t tense jumps.
In terms of content, the vampire theme has been done countless times. Look at books that have been successful in this genre; Interview with the Vampire, which was concordant with Bram Stokers Dracula but created empathy with the reader for the character. And Twilight; it focused on a different side of things – the romance between the two characters as opposed to the blood and gore stereotype surrounding vampires. The supernatural theme, as much as it was a part of Twilight, was also a side theme.
So, to create something that stands out you need to take a different slant on things. Both the Interview with the Vampire and Twilight slant have been done before. Perhaps try thinking of a plot that focuses on the vampire issue only slightly; instead there is a completely separate and self-contained plot?
Thinking of ideas, I would formulate a plot without the vampire issue, then see what affect it would have. Try getting to the same end result, but with realistic choices which affect what you’ve already planned out. Review, to make sure it’s realistic (or as realistic as it can be with vampires) and start to write! Don’t start writing without a plot!
If you haven’t already, go back to the roots of vampires with Dracula and Interview with the Vampire to get inspiration. Maybe look into Romanian mythology (where Bram Stoker got his inspiration from) and adapting some of there ideas.
Hope I helped?
Please can you give me your opinion on the start of my short story?
Hey just a story I am writing for fun – opinions would be nice, thanks x
If you told me a few months ago that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day Josh spoke to me.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you again, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly, entered just then and saved me from answering. Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed. I could not help but wonder what his agenda was?
This is great!
I really like how there are two polar opposites going on here. We have the dream guy, and the fighting and ‘in loving memory’ type aspect here.
It was striking to read that ‘dream guy’ description and then read ‘to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory.’ Usually things go perfectly for the perfect guy, what a nice contrast.
I really like the feel of this too, its well written and seems like such a teen/young adult genre story yet at the same time just seems different to me.
Eastenders-based story please read?
Ok I writ this story for English tommorow, what do you think? Is it OK to hand in? Yeah it’s EE based: Jack, Max, Tanya and co are involved (mainly Max & Tan) along with my annoying teacher Mr Thai (who’s name I changed to Mr Teye in case my teacher knows who he is..) The guys are in Year 8, cuz that’s like my year…ITS LONG THOUGH!
—-
Max and Tanya were walking in the busy hall, it was the 1st day back, 1st day of year 8 and so far…boring. Max was a boy (obviously), average height, shiny bald head, and chunky ginger eyebrows. Tanya was a girl (obviously!), pretty face, with long blonde hair that flicked out at the ends. It turns out they were in the same class that lesson, so thats why they were walking together (in case you’re wondering)
“So Tanya, I guess we’re in the same class again this year!” Max laughed.
“Oh shut it, Max! I still haven’t forgotten about last year you know!” she growled.
Max moved in front of her, walking backwards. “Tan, that whole Stacey thing, it was just a r —-OW!” “Max are you Ok?” Tanya giggled.
Max had bashed into a teacher and both of them were flat on the floor. The teacher seemed lost and had a load of papers in his hand (well not anymore obviously) which were scattered all over the corridor along with his glasses.
The teacher himself was your average nerd: glasses, suit, long tie, top button done, shirt tucked in, and he had a map of the school in his hand too (weirdly enoungh it was still in his hand).
“Oi, watch it!” Max screeched, lifting himself up from under the papers. Tanya, still giggling, helped the teacher pick up his papers. “So, you’re new I take it?” she asked.
“Um, yeah, I mean YES I am. Oh, where are my glasses??” he cried impatiently, feeling up the floor. “You mean these?” Max said, sounding disgusted.
The glasses were square in shape with thick black rims, and a crack in the left lens, quite gross to say the least. “Talk about a fashion crisis..” Max muttered and chucked the glasses into the nerdy teachers hands.
“Hey! Treat me with respect..I..I am your superior! I’ll see you 1:00!” he screeched. “Yeah? Whatever.” Max mumbled, rolling his eyes.
” “How to draw a perfect SQUARE?” – I guess you’re an art teacher then right?” Tanya asked reading one of the papers. “Yeah, no YES I am! Can you tell me where room 602 is? I’m already late for my 1st lesson, these maps are so cofusing!” He blushed.
“Yeah it’s over there, up the stairs, turn right.” Tanya said sweetly. “Yeah so nice “bumping” into you but we gotta go” Max said dragging Tanya with him as he walked off. “Nerdy freak!” he hissed.
“So am I forgiven?” Max smiled. “Ha, I guess I can’t punish you anymore after that! It was too funny!” She laughed. “You even made me forget our next lesson!” she giggled looking in her bag. She took out her timetable: ” “Monday, Period 1, Art, Room 602, Mr Teye” oh that’s only up there! Come on Max!” she was still giggling. They both walked on.
“602? I’ve heard that today. Where?” Max said looking puzzled. “Er? I don’t know do I? I so hope Jane’s in this class too. We have so much to catch up on” she said excitedly. “Jane? Tall one?” Max said. Tanya nodded.
“Is she still sniffing around that Ian Beale?” “No, the opposite!” she started laughing tears (practically). “Ian and Jane? Ian and Heather would be a better match!” Max laughed. “Oh my- I can’t believe you just said that! It’s true though. Ian’s sweet and all, but Jane could do better. It’s no Romeo And Juliet after all! What? Hello, did I actually say that?” she said shocked.
“You mean like us?” Max joked. Tanya gave him a weird look.
“No, bruv. She means like us!”
Another boys comes up from behind them, he had short brown hair and was chewing some Tridents (chewing gum, you know?).
“Jack.” Max said annoyed. “Why did I say that? Why? Why, why, why??” Tanya screamed. “So I guess you two have Mr Teye too? Looks like the brothers are in the same class again this year, eh Max?” Jack smirked.
“Whatever.” he said. “Oh, you two, SHUT UP. Look were here now!” she sighed a breath of releif, but then looked at her watch. “And we’re late!”
“Don’t worry, Tan, I’ll handle it.” Max said, doing some macho man pose. He opened the door and said “Soz me and Tan are late, sir. It won’t happe………YOU!!”
Max stared at the teacher. The big glasses, the nerdy outfit, the mass of papers, the guy that he bashed into was….Mr Teye!!
——
dun-dun-duh!
So what do you think? Long, but what do you think?
i think its gr8 but in this paragraph i would take out the !obviously!
Max had bashed into a teacher and both of them were flat on the floor. The teacher seemed lost and had a load of papers in his hand (well not anymore obviously) which were scattered all over the corridor along with his glasses.
it sounds too silly !
good luck x
Do you think this needs more detail? please I need opinions?
Hi, so someone said I need to describe more or could describe more. Like what the classroom looks like ect. So, do you think it needs more detail? Thanks x
If you told me a few months ago that I would be here, fighting for my life, then I would have told you not to be so bloody daft. I was a good girl, as they say. I never went out with friends; I didn’t have any to go out with. However, that all changed the day Josh spoke to me.
Josh Garrison was every girls dream date. His long flowing brown hair always sat in the same position, half tucked behind his left ear and the other half covering his right eye. Such a shame really, his eyes were his strongest point. They were emerald green in colour and the effect they had on people was incredible. I knew firsthand, every time I closed my eyes I could see them. It was as if he was still here.
It was because of Josh I was here now and I wasn’t going to let him down. He had already sacrificed enough for me and to simply lie down and give up would be an insult to his memory. I wondered what he would say to me and quickly shook my head. The answer was simple – he wouldn’t have let it get this far. I closed my eyes, awaiting my fate and thought of him.
***
Josh wasn’t a stranger to me; he was more of an old friend. I don’t know if I would exactly call him a ‘friend’ but more of someone, I had always known. Sure, we grew up together, we shared play dates when we were younger, but we were never close. In fact, I didn’t even think he noticed me before five months ago. So, it was a surprise when he started talking to me at school that day.
English was the second class of the day and Josh always sat near the window to the far left, with his stunning but bitchy girlfriend, Lydia. I think to be honest it was more to do with her that Josh never spoke to me in school. She always spoke to me as if I was dirt on her shoe. She was perfect there was no denying that, her long straight hair fell to below her waist, her eyes, baby blue in colour, always seemed to have a shine in them or at least to all the boys in our year, they did. Her lips were red as a rose, her clothes always came from the local designer boutique down the road, and compared to me she looked like she belonged on a runway. I, on the other hand looked the opposite, my black hair was always scrapped up in a band, a sign I was always running late and just didn’t have the time to make myself ‘perfect’. It wasn’t my style anyway, having all that hair in front of my face all day was annoying. Makeup didn’t agree with me, if I wore it sure enough the next day, I would wake up with my skin all greasy and shiny. As if, I needed another excuse for people to laugh at me for. No, I was very much your average ‘plain Jane’ and I liked it that way.
I entered the classroom like every other day only stopping dead when I saw Josh seated at my table and Lydia scowling over at him. He waved at me and my head turned towards Lydia who apparently found this little situation hilarious.
“God knows why he wants to sit with her,” she said to her new table partner, loud enough so everyone could hear and turn to look at Josh.
Then, when they were done gawking at him, it was my turn. I walked as quickly as possible up the long narrow isle, the walk felt like it lasted forever and I could feel the reminder of the classroom occupants eyes burn into the back of my head. Why had I picked the end row?
“Hey,” he said, turning to face me. His face rested on his hand and I couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was close up. This had to be a joke. What did he want? Why was he even within a five-mile radius of me?
I slung my bag under the desk and spoke, “Hey, is something up?”
“No, why?” He dragged his chair closer to me and I was sure my face resembled the bright red painted walls of the room.
“Then, why are you sitting here?”
“’Cause I wanted to. Is that a problem for you?” His eyes bore into mine and I turned away hoping that at any moment now the fire bell would suddenly go off and save me from making a complete fool of myself.
“No, it’s just different, that’s all,” I said as I dipped my head into my English grammar book.
“I like different,” he said, smiling and revealing a gleaming white row of teeth. “I’m not sure, Lydia, does though.”
I peeked up through my bangs and looked in the direction of her seat. He was right; she didn’t look amused. Josh waved at her and she flicked her hair before turning around. I had to stifle a laugh.
“You’re laughing.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”
“Josh, really I’m a bit freaked out. What do you want?”
“I want to get to know you again, Kara.” He moved his hand over to mine and gently placed it on top. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know me?”
I quickly pulled my hand away, placed it under the table, and clasped into my other one. The teacher, Mrs. Kelly, entered just then and saved me from answering.
Josh pulled his chair back to normal distance and I relaxed. I could not help but wonder what his agenda was? There was no way in the world he ‘wanted to get to know me’ there had to be something else. By the time, I mulled this morning’s events over in the hour since class began I concluded, Lydia had put him up to it as some sort of sick joke. Either that or he hit his head hard last night and was suffering from amnesia.
The bell rang, ending my train of thought, and once again, Josh and I were like magnets. Everyone’s head turned around, focusing their eyes on us.
anyway I’m sure you are nothing like my character 
x
P.s – sorry about the formating – YA! you know what it’s like
Aww Dee lol – I didn’t know that
I like this; the description is fine. You don’t want to over describe – people don’t need to know everythign about everything. The only thing I didn’t like was the character of Lydia – purely ‘coz it’s my name
. This is written well.
Writers please help!!!?
Please can you give me some ideas to improve the introduction of my vampire novel? Here’s the beginning:
Chapter One
April 11th 1880
“Catherine Kale, come with me please.”
I raised my head proudly as I was lead to the gallows, by a priest, chanting, and scattering holy water. His blue eyes were cold, Every step I took felt like another blow. I had not lead a proud life. I had been born into a working-class family, to a single mother, who had later hung herself from the shame and loneliness of being an outcast. I had been very lucky to have even found a husband. I was all alone in the world – but I would not be in this world for much longer. Now on the platform, I refused to let myself cry. Life was a show, and even I should be allowed one dramatic finale. The hangman lowered the noose over my neck. I met the mocking purple eyes of a young woman in the crowd. The trap-door dropped with a bang like a shot. And I fell into blackness.
January 7th 1872
I was on desk duty at my hotel when I saw her first. I sat at the desk, licking my forefinger, and flicking through paperwork. I tucked my pen behind my ear and looked up suddenly, when I became aware of a young woman standing over me. She looked around nineteen…or maybe twenty, but had an air around her that seemed older, somehow, although she was very youthful. Her face was remarkably beautiful. It was like a glacier in the beams of the dawn, glimmering with silvery-white skin, lips red as the rising sun, and her cheekbones were as sharp as cut ice. I shrunk into my seat, shivering, huddled up, as I felt the cold close in around me.
I felt as if I could fall into her eyes…deep pits of purple, with glimpses of gold… and at times, I could have sworn I saw a red lightening bolt shoot through them. They were rimmed by the densest forest of black lashes that I had ever seen. Unlike many other women, she wore her hair loose, trickling over her left shoulder like a river of loose black ringlets.
Her dress was like that I had only ever dreamt of…let alone wear. It was a very fashionable ball-gown style, in a pit-black cascade of velvet, with white and red lace and ruffles in abundance on the skirt. There was a split at the front to reveal a scarlet inset, like a glimpse of blood beneath skin. The bodice was a sleek, simple design – strapless and mainly plain, but with a hint of white lace at the top.
I pulled out a form. “Bonjour madmoiselle. Would you like a room?”I asked.
“Yes, of course I do. Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.” she snapped.
“Which name shall I book the room under?”
“My name is Ruxanda Selieza.”
“We have rooms sixteen or twenty free. I recommend room twenty. It has a fantastic view of the forest, and we don’t charge extra for it.”
“In that case, room twenty. I trust that there is room service?”
“Of course. Here is your key. I hope you enjoy your stay… we shall send someone up with your bags shortly.” I handed her the key to the room twenty.
She strode up the stair-case, her dress trailing behind her.I turned around and bumped into John, my husband. He was gazing, transfixed at her back. I kissed him, gently, and peeled myself away from him, and gazed at his face. His eyes were still glued to Ruxanda’s back. He was not exactly handsome – quite plain, really. But I loved him. I loved his plain-ness, his simplicity of words, the way his ginger hair was a mess, no matter how much I flattened it. And the way he always had stubble, even when he had shaved. “Damn razor.” I had heard him curse often enough. He had always complained how it was too blunt, and never got rid of the stubble, but he never bought a new one. That was another thing I loved about him – he was funny. I knew that although in other aspects of my life I was very unlucky, in love I was the happiest I could hope for. I was so lucky to be married to a man that I loved. Not many women had that advantage. And he had risked everything for me. I was well below his station. He was middle class, and I was lowest of the low.
I could not lose him.
Ruxanda had a certain charm to her I could not put a finger on. She may have seemed cold and unfeeling, and frankly…rude when I met her, but people were drawn to her like moths to a flame. It was odd. By midday, she had a crowd of people surrounding her, talking and joking with her. Some men flirted, others gazed shyly, but everyone was drawn to her. Even me. I thought I disliked her – she seemed thoroughly disagreeable when I had met her, but there was something about her that fascinated me. I hated her for luring my husband’s attention away from me, but at the same time, I could not stay away. I kept talking to her, smiling, and offering her more wine, on the house…it was as if I could not control my actions.
She seemed to have struck up a close friendship with a girl named Serena. Serena was russian, and about twenty. She was quite pretty, and had the stereotypical ballerina-ish stature, and sleek,
I’m not trying to copy twighlight, because I haven’t read twighlight yet. So therefore, I couldn’t copy it if I tried.
I’ll give you very general advice….cause I’m not a big fan of the genre you are writing in (nothing against it).
You are writing in the first person…which is fine, but you overuse ‘I’. It appears in practically every sentence. I’d recommend looking at books like the Grapes of Wrath or Catcher in the Rye….both first person and both superb novels.
Second, your sentence structure can make things confusing. There are a number of books on improving sentence structure for the author….I’d also recommend the Language Instinct by Steven Pinker – a book that gives you broader view of language and how our brains process languages (sentences, words, phonemes, etc)….essential knowledge for an author.