Young Writers Group discussion
Writing (Names Start w/A-M)
>
GAB's Writtenness :D
message 51:
by
georgiabread, assistant modérateur
(new)
Dec 15, 2013 12:30AM
Mod
reply
|
flag
Mod
Harper’s bri..."
I liked it. But, it needed more. More to it. i know beginnings aren't as well written as the middle where the conflicts and problems start or as well-written as the end but, for this I thought it needed more to it.
An elephant's faithful 100% (GAB) wrote: "I'm working on a story about a mystery about a house, and this is the sort of overall beginning. I just want some constructive feedback to know what I should change or keep. Thanks :)Harper’s bri..."
Love the description in this, and the end of the part was something unexpected. I was expecting Xavier to be gone. xD Now to read the other story you've posted. :)
An elephant's faithful 100% (GAB) wrote: "No Safety Nothing. Nothing would help her escape from the enclosure of darkness and agony…The cage of hopelessness and despair…The prison of fear and death. Surrounded by an endless crowd of weep..."
Wow, really good. I love that you're writing some historical fiction! :D
Mod
Mod
Harper’s bright blue eyes squinted open, and then shut tightly after looking straight into the resplendent sunlight. She groaned, and rolled over, risking another look at the dazzling rays pouring into her room from the other window. Once more she closed her eyes, and shoved her stuffed dog over her face.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Harper pulled the sides of her pillow over her ears, and shut her eyes tighter.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Harper couldn’t take it any more. She rolled over and pressed the snooze button on top of her clock. The beeping stopped. Harper sighed with relief, and rubbed her eyes.
Another lovely Saturday sleep-in ruined. I can’t believe I forgot to turn my alarm off again, she thought.
Harper opened her eyes, blocking the sun with her hand, and clambered out of bed.
Arousing Peanut - Harper’s fluffy pet Pekingese - she stretched and slipped her white and blue spotted gown over her pajamas. She checked her clock. It was 7.00 am.
Harper stumbled down the hall from her room, passing the closed doors to the bathroom and her younger brother and sister’s bedrooms.
The tiles were cold on Harper’s feet, and she scrunched up her toes in desperation for warmth. Early morning light tumbled in through the windows and rested on the floor. Harper watched her shadow as it passed through the light, blocking the vivid rays.
Harper’s feet found their way onto the polished, wooden floorboards of the lounge room and dining room. She looked around. As was expected, the large room was empty, filled with nothing but a ghostly silence.
Despite her gown, Harper shivered in the early morning chill as she walked past the dining table and through the wide arch that led to the kitchen. Harper took in the familiar sight around her. The exotic blues, greens, reds and oranges of the kitchen design contrasted with Harper’s own dull, tired feelings. Paintings and sketches hung proudly on the walls, framed in glittering gilt. Smothering the cold floorboards was large, patterned, red Persian rug, a brilliant touch to the vibrancy of the kitchen.
Harper opened the cupboard to a variety of foods; jars of sauce, herbs and fruit, a large fruitcake, loaves of bread, biscuit tins, an array of snacks, lollies, cereal and ingredients for baking. Harper pulled out a box of Weet-Bix, and emptied a few into a white, patterned bowl along with some milk and a sprinkle of sugar. Harper sighed, and looked around. The silence throbbed in her ears. It was too quiet.
Leaving the Weet-Bix to soak up the milk, Harper ventured out of the kitchen and into dining and lounge room. Everything was still and stifled and…silent. The word dominated over everything.
“Xavier? Jess?” she called.
There was no reply.
“Guys? Are you awake?” Harper’s heart thumped in her chest. Normally everyone would be awake by now. She checked her watch. Thirty minutes had passed since she awoke. Harper swallowed. Had something happened to them? Why weren’t they awakening? Harper shook herself. She was overreacting. Where would her family go? Harper tried to relax, but her heart rate was increasing. She made her way to her brother’s bedroom, and threw open the door. She expected an empty bed, the covers thrown forwards. She was right. Xavier was gone. What had happened? How had a normal Saturday morning suddenly turned into a morning a fear and worry? Harper rushed to Jess’ room, but instead of another empty bed, she was there, curled up in the covers surrounded by stuffed animals, fast asleep. Harper sighed with relief as she rushed back out, heading for her parents’ room.
“Mum, Dad, you have to get up! Please!” she begged, shaking Dad and then Mum. “Xavier’s gone; he’s not in his room! Please get up!”
Mum groaned. “Wha…? Xavier? Gone?” she said sleepily. “What do you mean?”
Harper’s eyes widened. How could they not know what she meant? She clearly stated that Xavier was gone! “Mum, I mean Xavier is not in his bed! He’s disappeared!”
Mum and Dad sat up. “Xavier’s gone?” Dad asked. “But how—”
“I don’t know but we have to find him!” Harper interrupted. “Come on!”
Mum and Dad followed Harper out in a rush of anxiety and fear. Harper’s mind buzzed. Where could Xavier have gotten to? Surely no one could’ve kidnapped him-there’d be trace of any break in. But what if he’d run away? Harper shook her head. Why would we do that? Maybe he escaped to go out with his friends…it was possible, but then again, Xavier would be too afraid to go wandering in the middle of the night.
While Mum awakened Jess, Harper and Dad rushed outside to search for Xavier. Harper’s heart raced as she ran to the side of the house beneath her brother’s window. There was no one there, however there was evidence that someone had been there.
“Xavier?” Harper called. “Where are you? Xavier!” Harper knelt down to pick up an empty food packet that had been dropped onto the grass. Harper remembered the stash of food that Xavier kept in his wardrobe; the packet had been there once.
“Dad!” she called. “Come here! Xavier’s been here-I think he’s run off somewhere!”
An elephant's faithful 100% (GAB) wrote: "Thx and was unexpected good?"Yes, it was! :) Whenever possible, it's a good thing to keep your readers guessing as long as it doesn't confuse them.
An elephant's faithful 100% (GAB) wrote: "Here's a changed version of the beginning of my story:Harper’s bright blue eyes squinted open, and then shut tightly after looking straight into the resplendent sunlight. She groaned, and rolled ..."
As much as I liked the unexpectedness of the first draft, I like that this version has more wiggle room to work with the developing plot.
Mod
Mod
Mod
Isaac breathed slowly and deeply, his eyes beginning to gradually close. Salty tears blurred his vision as his eyelids fluttered open again, unwilling to give in to the temptation of sleep. They were so close to safety, to relief. He couldn't miss it all now.
The passengers around him sat motionless and lost in their own thoughts, absentmindedly pushing the oars. The lifeboat rocked to and fro, but had no effect on anyone. It was as if a great burden of shock had descended upon them like a dark shadow, smothering them, taking over them.
Isaac drew a deep breath and shut his eyes, but not to sleep. He stroked his mother's cheek as lay on his lap, and he brought himself back to the joyful memories with his family.
He remembered his vibrant, bubbly mother, always outgoing and humorous, always cheering him up and assuring him that everything was going to be alright. He remembered his father, a man whom he would never see again, who would through him up in the air and catch him, and throw him again. A man who would always look after him and his mother, who would always volunteer for anything, who would always be there.
Isaac swallowed and forced himself to think of more. He needed to remember, he needed to remember.
They were at a beach-him, his mother and father. Isaac was swimming. His father crept up behind him, picked him and threw him into deeper waters. His mother laughed from a rock, her legs dangling over the sparkling surface of the waves. Isaac spluttered and swam for air, and a small wave sent him tumbling back to shore. He laughed and ran back into the waves. His mother jumped in after him, sending a spray of sea water all over him and his father. They all collapsed in laughter on the surface, laughing, laughing, laughing...
"Alright, I want everyone's attention on me, thank you." The stern, male voice brought Isaac back to the present, and he opened his eyes to see the pilot standing in one of the boats, his hands on his hips.
"Quieten down, please. Thank you. Now, as some of you may have seen, we have sighted vessels that have come to our rescue. I want everyone to exit the lifeboats in an orderly fashion with no excitement or panic. Let me repeat that. I want no excitement or panic when you board. Thank you." The pilot settled back down in his lifeboat to discuss with his fellow pilot and a few stewards.
Isaac licked his lips, and glanced over to where others were looking. In the distance was a small ship; in fact there were four. Isaac hoped they'd all fit. But what worried him most was what their rescuers would do when they saw his mother's body. Would they order to bury her at sea? Would they keep her in a room and not allow him to see her?
Isaac have his mother's coat a rub. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I won't let them take you away from me. I never will."
Mod
Isaac watched as a cluster of passengers scrambled onto the lead rescue boat, a few taking heed of the pilot's words while the others switched boats in desperation for safety.
Another lifeboat was emptied, the air quickly let out and the boat folded up.
Slowly Isaac's lifeboat approached the saviours. A few of the passengers in his lifeboat stood to enter the rescue boat, and were guided across by the help of a few men.
Isaac swallowed. Suddenly the woman beside him stood. Isaac stopped himself from falling from her shoulder.
"Come on, dear. It is time to get off. We are saved," she said softly.
Isaac stared into her eyes. "I...I don't want to get off," he mumbled, looking away.
The woman gave him an apologetic look. "Why, dear? Is it because..of your mother?" she asked.
Isaac licked his lips and nodded slowly. The woman sighed. "They won't do anything to her, I promise," she assured him.
Isaac bit his lips and stood. He lifted his mother into his arms, and wobbled on the floating canvas, his legs buckling. The woman helped to carry his mother, and together they lifted her onto the rescue boat.
Isaac sat on the floor with his mother in his lap. The small space was crowded; Isaac felt trapped and claustrophobic.
The woman settled down next to him, and folded him up in a warm embrace. "See? I told you everything would be fine," she said gently.
Suddenly a man from the rescue boat approached them. He knelt down in front of them, and took of his cap. Isaac knew what was coming next.
"Hey, sonny. I hear your poor mother's dead. I'm so sorry, little man. We can't keep her aboard. Do you want to bury her at see?"
Tears blurred Isaac's vision; anger boiled inside like a pot of water atop a steaming stove. "No! I don't want my mother buried here! Imagine her, lying in the bottom of the ocean in utter darkness with no life around for miles! I would never be able to visit her, let alone FIND her! No, I won't bury her here, ever!"
Isaac buried his face in his hands and sobbed, oblivious to surrounded passengers. He could still feel the presence of the man, who sighed. "I-I'm sorry, son...I didn't think of it that way." The man returned his cap to his head, rose to his feet and walked off.
Isaac felt the woman's arm around him, and he felt comforted and calm. His tears faded, leaving stains on his cheeks.
For some reason, I really like that you keep having people coming up to Isaac and asking if he'd like to bury his mother at sea. Isaac's answers make quite the impact on the people who ask.
Mod
Mod
The rescue boat rocked to and fro against the choppy, foam-tipped waves. Every passenger sat in silence, lost in their thoughts and grief, haunted by the memory of the crash and their loves ones that they would see no more.
Isaac couldn't help but feel he was surrounded by lifeless bodies, with no feelings, no emotion, no soul. They sat there, meaningless, waiting to be gently placed in a mahogany coffin and lowered into the depths of a grave.
Isaac looked at his mother. She was the one that needed to be placed in a coffin, not into the murky darkness of the sea, never to be found again.
The last lifeboat was emptied, the passengers seated in the rescue boat, and the caravan of four took to their engines and sped across the surface of the water. Salty, ocean spray spat up at Isaac, shooting high over the boat and down onto the cluster of passengers.
Isaac spluttered and wiped the drops from his face. He glanced out across the ocean, expecting to see the vivid coast of Rome, but all he saw was a vast sea of sparkling blues and greens.
Isaac licked his lips. Now that his mother was dead, who would look after him? He had no one now; no father, no mother, no grandmothers, no grandfathers, no aunts or uncles. He couldn't believe it. He had absolutely no one. No relatives, nothing. Tears pricked at his eyes. Isaac bent his head, trying to hide them from woman that was looking after him.
"Oh, Mum. What am I going to do?" he whispered. "I have no one, no one! All my relatives and family are dead. I am all alone in this world! Why did you do this? Why did you have to die? You were so strong, Mum...so strong! You could've survived if you held on longer!" The tears trickled down his cheeks, and landed on his mother's own. Isaac pressed his lips together and brushed them off.
"Hey, darling, are you alright?" asked the woman. She gave his back a warm, gentle rub. Isaac sat up, once more feeling comforted by her touch.
"I was just...just....th-thinking," Isaac stuttered the reply.
The woman sighed, and drew him in for another hug. Isaac rested his head on her shoulder, and that's when he realised it. It had been right there, on the tip of his tongue. It was so obvious, so inevitable, that Isaac couldn't believe he hadn't seen it.
"Um, excuse me?" he asked the woman, who looked down at him with a sad smile. "Um...now that my mother's gone...would...would you-"
"Of course I'll be your knew mother, dear," the woman interrupted. "I know we hardly know each other, not even our names, but I will be your mother, if that's what you want."
Isaac smiled. "Th-thank you. So much," he whispered. Isaac closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He was no longer alone.
"Oh, and by the way, my name's Isaac."
The End
Mod
Mod
Unnamed
The air is humid
The ground is misty
Leaves crunch underfoot
As I approach your grave
The sun is hidden
The flowers have decayed
I wear nothing but black
With tears my cheeks are stained
I stand by your grave
Remembering your laugh
Remembering your joy
As I read the cracked epitaph
There will be no more laughter
There will be no more joy
Grief will cave in
Will play with with us like a toy
Mod
A very well-written poem; I love the word pictures you give in it.
Mod
Mod
I have to get away
Before it catches me
Before it drags me to the ground
Before it spills my blood
I am stumbling
My legs are buckling
The world is falling down
I can't breath
I can't think
There is nowhere to hide
I am the victim
Pain stabs into me
Everything is twirling
My mind is struggling to understand
Only one thing is clear
It is approaching
Mod
Mod
Mod
Mod
I felt like this poem was sort of...unfinished. It was precise and hurried to match the pointed fear in the person narrating, but it felt unfinished. Good work though!
Mod
Mod
As the soldiers, so young, marched along the street
Of her brave son, Mother was so proud
As he walked, his head high, with the thumping of his feet
Tears pricked and fell from my eyes
As I watched the scared faces of our men
Everyone knew that most would surely die
Slaughtered like pigs trapped in their pen
The Active Walrus (GAB) wrote: "A cloud of gloom descended upon the crowdAs the soldiers, so young, marched along the street
Of her brave son, Mother was so proud
As he walked, his head high, with the thumping of his feet
Tears..."
I love the topic of this poem. I tried writing a poem like this, but it turned into a song. xD My only complaint is this one also sounded a bit unfinished. Otherwise, excellent. :)
Mod
The Active Walrus (GAB) wrote: "I felt that too but it was sort of a rushed poem cause I had to go and do something :P I didn't have time"Haha, that's understandable!
Mod
For almost two months I was fooled
Drawn into your comfort and security
Your joy and love
Your honesty and loyalty
I spent nearly every day with you
I laughed with you
I cried with you
I loved you
Then I discovered the truth
You didn't know I was there
You didn't know what I saw
Well, I saw everything
You thought you and her were alone
You thought no one would see you laugh
No one would see you chat
No one would see you kiss
I saw
I saw you hug her, stroke her hair, kiss her
I thought we had something special
I thought I was your only girl
Boy, was I wrong
You could've had another
You could've had much more
You could've had twenty girls and none would know you secret
I knew
I knew everything
I felt the painful tears in my eyes
I felt my heart being crushed
"I thought you loved me!
I thought you cared!
Looks like I made a big mistake!
It's over! Over!"
Mod
I disagree with Nov13670, if I had a boyfriend and he was playing the field, I'd be really mad. I liked the poem, well done. But I also have to ask: Why did you called it Hot Potato? xD
Mod
Mod
Amongst the swaying of the trees
The rustling of the leaves
The buzz of a bee
One man stands alone
Here the caw of a crow
See the smooth, carved stones
All lined in rows
Watch the man stand alone
From his eyes tears are shed
Seeping into the flower bed
Mournfully he bows he head
As the one man stands alone
His only friend he could not save
His long road to death was paved
Watch him read the stone at the grave
As the one man stands alone
Wondering
Hoping
Remembering
Mod
Mod
Mod
When We Crumble
14-year-old Lara is a Jew. And what a horrible time it is to be one.
After Nazis invade and destroy her home and take away her father, Lara and her family move to stay with a close, non-Jewish friend. There they live in somewhat peace, once more settling into the rules and regulations set for the Jews. But soon Jews are being marched down the streets of Berlin to their death. Lara's family are forced to hide down in the cellar, living in the dark until Nazis search their new home. And take them to a train station. Thus Lara is set off on an incredible journey of love, friendship, danger, selflessness and most of all, hope. Will she survive? Or, like the society around her, will she crumble?
Mod
This sounds like a great story.
Mod
Mod
Mod
Lara's eyes shot open and she gasped. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. She stared up at the white ceiling, and drew a deep breath. The sheets caked her arms and legs; she lifted them off and threw back the quilt, and turned to face the bed next to her. The familiar shapes of the twins lay huddled together under the blankets. Their bodies rose and fell in unison.
Lara sighed and let her eyes drift around the room. There was a window on the wall next to her bed, complete with curtains and a window seat with drawers; a wicker chair sat in the left corner, next to a carved wardrobe; a dresser sat next to the wardrobe; and a chest sat in the right corner next to the door.
Rolling over onto her back, Lara closed her eyes and flapped the sheets. She was just dropping off when she heard another pounding on the door. Lara rolled out of bed, glancing briefly at Petra and Theodore, and started towards the door. But a flickering light caught her eye. And a scream rang in her ears.
She looked out the window between the two beds and down onto the street below. The sight before her struck her like a blow to the chest.
Wood, glass, books and other debris covered the street. And blood. So much blood.
Nazis filled the road, smashing windows, piling into shops, burning hundreds of books. They hauled men and women out onto the bitumen. They kicked at their curled-up bodies; jabbed them with the stocks of their guns. Another woman screamed as she was dragged from a shop by her hair. She fought and kicked until another Nazi approached. There was a gunshot. The woman lay on the path in small pool of blood. Lara looked away.
Lots of gunshots had been going off. How could she not notice them? Maybe it was the horror she saw; the death, the destruction, the anguish and inhumanity. Maybe it was the sudden hatred for the Nazis, the wish for them be destroyed, the horrible thoughts of them swirling in her head. Whatever the cause—
Another fist pounded on the door. A growling voice followed it, too muffled to understand. She heard the nervous, whispering voices of her parents after that. Slowly she drew the curtains, and tip-toed out of her bedroom and peered down the hallway.
Mama stood trembling next to Papa, who had his hands on her shoulders and was talking to her hurriedly. The glow of a candle on a nearby table illuminated the room.
Papa turned to the door. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice sounding brave, like there was no problem at all.
The same voice from behind the door answered, “Open up, in the name of Herr Hitler.”
Suddenly Lara heard footsteps behind her and spun around, her heart thumping wildly. She sighed with relief when she realised it was only Elias, her older brother.
“You…you scared me,” she whispered, but Elias ignored her.
“Lara, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be sleeping! Quick, go back to bed.”
“But…there’s people at the door,” Lara pleaded.
“They’re not important. Go back to bed and it’ll be all over soon.” Elias began to usher his sister back through the door. Lara threw his hand away and faced him again, anger bubbling up from what she saw on the street.
“What about the Nazis on the road? They’re destroying the homes and stores! And they’re hurting our neighbours! What’s going on?”
“Lara? Elias? What are you doing?” Mama hurried up to them, her face smothered in shock. “Get back to bed, both of you.”
“But Mama, there’s people being hurt on the street! The Nazis are destroying homes! What’s happening, Mama?”
“Nothing, dear. Go to bed.”
“There’s something huge and terrible happening, Mama. What is it?”
“Lara, please, listen to our—”
The door suddenly crashed down, revealing two Nazis in the doorway. Their uniforms were covered in dust, ash and blood; their boots were caked in mud; and their guns, unlike everything else, were shiny and black, standing out above their bodies.
Elias sprang into action, darting to Papa as the pair of Nazis ran in and attacked father and son. Lara gasped as punches and kicks were thrown everywhere. One Nazi was sent sprawling, but quickly stood and lunged at Papa again.
Mama screamed as a fist swung at Elias’ chin and threw his head back. Two more Nazis filed in, alerted by the scream. Lara gripped Mama’s arm, terrified.
“Lara, wake the twins. Climb out the window if you can. If not, hide immediately,” Mama whispered with a shaking voice.
Lara didn’t object; she raced back into her room and ran to the bed. The twins were already awake, and stared wide-eyed at their older sister.
“Don’t be frightened. Nothing is happening. This will be over soon.” Lara’s voice faltered as she struggled to sound brave. Petra and Theodore seemed satisfied, though. Lara rushed to the window and shoved it open. She looked down onto the grass. It was at least nine feet from the window; there was no way down unless she tied sheets together. But they would take too long and the twins couldn’t climb; they were only six. They would have to hide.
Lara returned to the twins, and lifted Petra from the blankets. She carried her to the chest, and opened the lid. Once Petra was placed inside, she asked, “What’s going on? I don’t want to be in a box! You’re being mean!”
Lara shushed her. “I’m sorry. You’ll be let out soon.” She closed the lid, leaving a small gap with a pencil for air. Then she returned to Theodore.
“I don’t want to go in a box either!” he complained as Lara lifted him onto her hip.
“You won’t. Now, you need to go under the bed.”
“No!”
“Theo, please! You must!” Lara begged. Relief filled her body as Theodore finally gave in and crawled under the mattress. “Now, stay there.”
Yells and a scream came from the small lounge room. All this while Lara had been ignoring the grunts and jabs of guns, for the twins, but now they were clear and she winced each time. She didn’t know why the Nazis didn’t just shoot them. They must want to torture us, she thought, until we beg to be killed.
She heard a woman’s groan, and a thump, but there had been no gunshot. Papa cried out. Her breath caught in her throat. Footsteps marched towards the bedroom. Before she could act, two Nazis strode through the door. They shoved her to the floor and drove their feet into her sides. Lara cried out and curled up to protect her body. She felt the stocks coming down her back. Pain darted through her body. She felt as if her back was breaking.
Lara begged for them to stop but they paid no attention to her. Tears blurred her vision and she wished there were no Nazis, no rules or constrictions or pain or death. A shape appeared the doorway; Elias. He threw himself onto the Nazis, punching and kicking, screaming at them to stop. A third Nazi entered, followed by Papa.
The cries of the twins were heard. The chest lid creaked and Lara saw Petra clamber out. She screamed and threw the pencil that had kept the lid open at a Nazi. Then she punched his legs with weak fists. A gunshot echoed through the house.
Suddenly the world began slow down. Elias cried out and slowly beat the Nazi. Papa screamed and fell to his knees. Lara saw a small, limp body on the floor, in a pool of blood. The lump in her throat grew larger; she screamed and tried stand, but she couldn’t. The kicks and jabs continued. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in her head, and then black.
The Active Walrus (GAB) wrote: "Prologue-November 9th, 1938 Lara's eyes shot open and she gasped. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. She stared up at the white ceiling, and drew a deep breath. The sheets caked her arms and l..."
Wow. This. This is amazing. Is this scene set during Kristallnacht?
Mod
Mod
No problem, that's totally understandable as that is what has been happening to me lately. :)
