Writer's test! discussion
Writing! (open for criticism)
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EJ's Attempts
Mod
A short story based partially on me put into verse... No, my parents are fine. :)
When I was born, my mother died.
When I was born, my father left me
on the doorstep of a neighbor.
I was thrown into a foster family
who only kept me for the paycheck.
January first, Kindergarten
Sally was coloring a picture
of the sky when her blue
crayon, the color of her eyes
broke in her tiny hands.
I walked over to her and gave her mine.
She tore it out of my hand
and didn't utter a word.
I went back to my picture
and colored my ocean green.
October twenty-fifth, First grade
We were finger-painting in the middle
of the schoolroom on the fourth floor.
John spilt the red paint on the ground.
He started to clean it up and I went
over there to help him. He left.
I finished cleaning it up.
It took an hour. I missed recess.
February thirteenth, fifth grade,
Mary's parents were fighting
and her mother went away for a while.
She didn't have a lunch packed anymore.
She would come to school and sit
in a corner where no one could see.
I gave her my lunch for a month.
She didn't say thank you and ignored
me with the rest of the class again.
March sixteenth, sixth grade,
my entire grade has begun to ignore me.
I don't mind. I keep getting involved
in my books and my poetry.
They think I'm weird.
They think I'm insane.
Maybe they're right.
December twenty-third, eighth grade,
I really like this girl
named Gabriella Garcia.
She has long dark hair
and beautiful brown eyes.
I gave her a necklace
with two G's on it.
She went to the winter dance
with someone else.
I smiled at her there
and hoped she had a good time.
April twenty-second, ninth grade,
My first year in highschool.
I see a girl with crutches come up
to a door near the school.
I open it for her and hold it
until she finally makes it inside.
She doesn't look at me or thank me.
Because I held the door,
I missed the bus home.
I called my parents.
They told me to start walking.
I walked five miles that day.
November twentieth, tenth grade,
my sophomore year is here.
Max cheats off my test,
but when the teacher asks
I say it was my fault.
He leaves without even a smile
in my direction.
I don't mind. No one has smiled
at me ever before.
Why start now?
May eighth, eleventh grade,
Jack just got his license
and needs money for a car.
I've been saving up money
so I could go to college
the next year.
I loan him a thousand
and he says he'll pay me back.
A month goes by and he says nothing.
I ask him once if he remembers
and he says to stop nagging.
I don't ask again.
I never get the money.
April ninth, twelfth grade,
a girl yelled at me that I was hideous.
A boy shouted I had braille on my face.
I decided to take a drug for it.
I started Accutane.
June tenth, twelfth grade,
I finally graduated from there.
I walk outside and see Miranda crying.
Her car broke down and she can't get home.
She lives very far out of my way.
I give her my keys and she leaves.
No smile.
No thank you.
I walk home again.
Halfway there, a drunk driver
swerves to the side and hits me.
June eleventh,
I wake up in a hospital bed.
My foster parents are glaring
down at my crippled body.
They ask where my car is.
I tell them.
They leave.
They never come back.
June twelfth,
I found out how bad it is.
My spine is broken.
I will never walk.
My left arm is snapped.
It might never work.
My kidneys are trash
from the drugs and the crash.
I need a new pair.
I'm put on a list.
June thirteenth,
I get a roommate.
She's eight years old.
She needs a new kidney.
She won't have long otherwise.
Her name is Angel Schmetterling.
I recognize her last name...
it means butterfly in German.
June fourteenth,
they found a kidney for me.
It's my exact blood type.
I will survive.
The girl next to me
still needs one.
She only has a few more days.
She has my bloodtype...
June fifteenth, Noon
the girl next to me
has stitches in her back.
The kidney is working fine.
My face is yellowed
and discolored from poisons.
I'm going to die soon.
June fifteenth, midnight,
the girl next to me
gets out of her bed
and comes over to me.
She puts her hand on my stomach
and waits.
It's as if she can feel my pain.
She looks me in the eye
and it's as if she knows.
She puts her lips next to my ear,
"Thank you..."
Then she kisses my cheek lightly.
It was the first time someone
had ever told me thank you...
No one had ever cared that much
for me before...
I close my eyes,
smile wide,
and go off
to live with the angels...
forever.
Damnit! You made me cry, you sonofa-Ahem. Er, sorry, had a moment there. Seriously though, I love this. He must have been really weird, for everyone to ignore him so thouroughly. He seemed weird, in that he just kind of went with everything - the way he was treated and such. I find it easier sometimes to identify with this kind of character than the kind who get depressed or angry. Not all the time, sometimes they're just too weak. I don't think your protagonist was weak though.
Clever thinking, too, putting it into verse. No one would notice any grammatical errors and very little description contributes to the overall feel of the piece. Also, as it is such a distinct style, it can't really be "critiqued" in the traditional sense, the story being more about the character than any specific event.
So.
Condensed Version: I liked it.
Mod
Ahem. Er, sorry, had a moment there. Seriously though, I love this. He must have been really weird, for everyone to ignore him so thouroughly. He seemed weird, ..."
You're number like 7 to cry, lol.
Number like 13 to think it's sad. :)
Thank you! :D
I started thinking of it as a short story, but then I started to like singsong it in my head as I walked the four miles home and I decided it could be a narrative poem or a short story. I went with poem. :)
I like poetry. I write that the most for some reason.
But I don't know if poetry is right for this group so.
Poetry is perfectly fine. This group is for all forms of writing. I love this! It's so sad! I'm in tears right now!
Mod
LOL! I'm sorry I make people cry! :)
Don't be sorry! I gave at least ten people at camp nightmares last week because of a murder story Angel had me write!
LOL! Don't be sorry. It's a good sign when you can move people to tears.I guessed when I read it that it was origionally meant to be a short story, because of how you've included the dates, but it works well as a poem. And I love poetry, so stories like this actually hold more appeal to me in this form.
*sigh* Number nine! xDIt's so good ._.
Mod
If you can get an emotion - whether anger, happiness, tears, or disgust - out a person from just WRITING, you have succeeded.
Then you my friend are very successful!
Mod
btw, there's a sequel to this poem. xD
Mod
From the day I was born,
I have had to fight for my life.
After my mother put me up
for adoption, I had to fend
for myself in the bleak world.
January 2nd, Age Six
I already have my first job
selling newspapers on
the corner of 2nd and 3rd.
I get a few pennies per paper.
It adds up for my adoptive family.
April 8th, Age Eight,
School isn't a necessity for me.
I haven't even been to the first
five grades yet,
but I bet I know more than them.
I can add, subtract, multiply, divide
the amount of newspapers I sell
and the amount of money I'm supposed to get.
I know how to read because
I would always read the paper
when business slowed down.
June 9th, Age Ten,
My adoptive mother has finally
died of the cancer that was
eating away at her brain
all these years.
We never knew.
We don't know if she did either.
My father didn't know what to do
with me without mother
so he tried passing me along
to the next family...
I didn't make it there.
July 4th, Age Twelve,
I've been living on these
streets for a good two years now.
I know the best dumpsters
for food and the kindest
families for money.
There's a river to the south
that I bathe in regularly.
Today is one of the days
I get lots to eat.
People waste so much food
nowadays.
October 31st, Age Fourteen
I've never gone
trick 'r treating before.
I know what candy is,
but I hadn't had one
in such a long time.
I walk up to the nearest
house with a light on
and knock lightly.
A vampire answers.
"Oh look honey,
it's a zombie..."
I take the candy
and go back to my dumpster.
Do I really look that bad?
December 25th, Age Sixteen,
it's cold out here.
So cold.
I lost feeling in my feet
long ago, but now
my fingers have turned
a scary shade of blue.
I shiver in my box.
I pass out.
I don't know what's
going on around me.
I'm unconscious.
I'm dead, I must be dead.
There's a light,
but I can't tell what it is.
Maybe it's heaven,
maybe it's the fires of hell.
I don't know.
I just know it's warm.
January 1st, Age Sixteen
Happy new year...
I guess.
I lost two fingers.
Turns out it wasn't heaven,
a passing person saw a child
which turned out to be me
and took me to a hospital.
Frostbite took away two fingers
and a toe.
Not that I was using that toe anyway.
January 2nd, Age Sixteen,
it's worse than they thought.
The shit I've been eating
hasn't been helping me at all.
I've been sick with worms
for years and never knew.
Something else happened too...
They haven't told me what yet.
September 11th, Age Seventeen,
my beautiful baby daughter is born
almost nine months after I found
out I was pregnant.
She's so beautiful.
So beautiful.
She deserves a better life than this.
I find out who the husband is
and tell him he needs to help her,
if not me.
He takes Angel from me.
June fifteenth, Six A.M.
I feel a pain in my lower back,
it hurts so so bad...
I crumble on the floor of the hospital.
My kidneys are shot.
A genetic disorder, they say.
You don't have long, they say.
I want to see my daughter.
I call my ex-boyfriend up,
but he's already here
in the kidney ward
with Angel...
my darling daughter.
She took his last name.
Schmetterling...
June fifteenth, Midnight
I'm put into a ward next to my daughter,
I can feel myself fading fast.
I don't have much longer.
At around one in the morning,
I hear the pitter patter of footsteps
outside the door in the hall.
The door opens
and there stands Angel.
She walks over to me
and the tears finally leave.
My beautiful girl.
My baby girl.
She places a hand on my stomach
as if knowing I don't have long.
She has a crumples piece of paper
in her right hand.
She wraps my own hand around it
and walks out of the room.
I'm so tired.
I try to lift my arm,
but it doesn't work.
Let me see it, please.
I beg the lord to just
let me see this one thing.
Tears leave my eyes
and my spirit begins to depart.
My hand opens slowly...
a piece of folded up paper
falls lightly to the floor
unfurling along the way.
There's a picture,
drawn in pink and purple
crayon.
A large pink outline of a heart
takes up the center
and inside of it is a stick
figure little girl
holding the hand of her mother.
Her mother has wings...
beautiful purple and pink
butterfly wings...
My darling daughter, Angel Schmetterling...
my guardian angel,
my beautiful butterfly...
A single tear falls down the side
of my cold cheek as the machine
begins to beep a single note...
the line has flattened and will
no longer flutter
like the beat of an angel's wings
or a butterfly's heart.
Yes! Exactly! I showed my parents part of a story I am writing yesterday and elicited all kinds of emotions from them. Their eyes started watering in one part, and in another they were yelling at the characters, then at me, and so on... and I was paranoid that it wasn't emotionally involved enough. XD
OMG EJ I'M CRYING!!!!!! I haven't cried in years and your writing is making me cry!!
Oh! I loved her! I love the relationship between the original and the sequel, how you've explained her kidney transplant through her mother's story.I was prepared this time and didn't cry, but it was a close call.
Mod
Last Lullaby
Hush now,
my baby,
sleep tight in your bed
Remember this song
as it plays in your head.
Shhhhh,
my child,
lay your head down to sleep.
Lay it here on the pillow
as you begin to count sheep.
Be quiet,
my babe,
hold my hand tight.
Remember your mother
in this dying light.
Hush now,
my baby,
please now, don't cry.
Just let your eyes drift
to my last lullaby.
Shhhhh,
my child,
remember me tonight.
Remember your mother
on her dying night.
Be quiet,
my babe,
just hold onto me still.
If you don't,
then nobody will.
Hush now,
my baby,
the time is nigh.
Remember it for me-
my last lullaby...
EJ I am seriously crying right now!
Geez, these are so good! I'm going to learn from this. My poems never seem emotional enough to me. The simplicity of this one is great. Layed out like a lullaby but really sad and soulful.
Your poems are ridiculously beautiful. Poetry is not one of my strengths, so that is all the feedback I have for you.
Mod
When Crazy Met Insane
When Crazy met Insane,
he opened up his mouth,
"It's time for us to talk,
to talk of many things:
of how a man can eat a horse,
of how the cow jumped over the moon,
of how thoughts are worth a penny,
of who could walk five hundred miles
and who could walk five hundred more,
of princes, nobles, kings, and pharoahs,
of lettuce leaf and let us leave,
of how rocks can be of candy
and how heads can taste of lemons,
of how the children, all today,
can stop a gob, break a jaw, and then bar some chocolate,
of how buttons are cute,
if her pants are really on fire
and whether pigs have wings.
Yes, the time, the time has come
to talk of many things..."
Insane just stared at Crazy,
not knowing what to say.
All that he could think
was how he wanted
the talking bird
to fly away.
Yes, that is much less depressing, but still good! It's wonderfully random and fantastically creative!
Ha! Not depressing at all. It's fun, but doesn't feel juvenile. I like it.
I read this. I'm pretty critical no offense. *laughs dryly* And this... OHMYFREAKIN GOD THIS MADE ME CRY I AM CRYING RIGHT NOW AND I RARELY CRY I AM CRYIG. YOU MADE ME CRY. i still have no idea if its a compliment or insult myself by the way. Hm. 내가밋쳔나바...
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Memories of a ButterflyFrom the day I was born,
I have had to fight for my life.
After my mother put me up
for adoption, I had to fend
for myself in the bleak world.
January 2nd, Age Six
I alre..."
.. Dats my name.
Mod
That is a compliment and approximately #9 for crying. :)
10, I also cried. All of them. ^
Mod
Memories of an Angel had parts of my life so I'm fine with it, lol.
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Oh, thanks guys, I feel like I should put one of my non-depressing poems up now to make you feel better. :)When Crazy Met Insane
When Crazy met Insane,
he opened up his mouth,
"It's time for us t..."
Wow, I really wish heads could taste of lemon
I have to stop reading your writing! It's too depressing but for it's addicting!
Okay I'm sorry but I can't read your writing anymore. It's so sad. T.T It makes me more sad than what the reason of why I was already sad. T.T
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Jueun wrote: "I read this. I'm pretty critical no offense. *laughs dryly* And this... OHMYFREAKIN GOD THIS MADE ME CRY I AM CRYING RIGHT NOW AND I RARELY CRY I AM CRYIG. YOU MADE ME CRY. i still h..."Haha It's true. XD
Mod
Mod
Crazy was being locked up
for trying to break into a prison.
Insane was being thrown away
for trying to break out of prison.
When Crazy met Insane,
sparks could just be seen.
Fireworks and candles,
flames of all types came to be.
For Crazy and Insane
were two peas in a pod,
two gloves in a pair,
and the sun and the moon.
For Crazy saw the world
and tried to derive a moral
from all that he saw
whilst Insane saw the world
for what it truly was.
When Crazy met Insane again,
after the first they met,
he decided to converse again.
"Hello, my dear old friend,
my Insane, my asylum blood.
As you know the time has come
to talk of many things:
of how a TV set consists of one,
of how a chest of drawers
holds no heart,
of how worms love books,
of how the little dog laughed
and the dish ran away with the spoon,
of how clocks aren't alive
but have hands and a face,
of how potatoes have eyes
and Mississippi has I's,
of who put a needle in a haystack,
of how cards have a deck,
of how ships have a deck,
of how when fighting you deck another,
of how in jail you are locked up,
but never are locked down,
of how a smile can turn upside down
and then turn into a frown.
Yes, the time has come to talk,
I say, to talk of many things,
of candle wax and ear wax
and how coal can be crushed into diamonds."
Insane saw a bird talking like before,
but this time he had an idea.
Instead of waiting for it to fly away,
he decided instead to eat it.
For birds taste best when fried in fat,
but since he was currently locked up.
He decided instead,
inside of his head
that he could eat it raw...
Mod
Tick, Tock
the wall with a clock,
ticks the seconds as they pass.
One, two, three, four.
Half a minute, nearing one.
Tick, tock
the large hand moves on the clock,
minutes slide past, quick as a gazelle.
Five, ten, fifteen.
Half an hour, nearing one.
What's taking so long?
Tick, Tock
the small hand moves on the clock,
hours waddle past on a fat, stubby hand.
three, six, nine, twelve.
The quarters of the face slowly fill
as the small hand moves on.
Tick, tock
the ticking is driving me crazy.
Tick, tock
when can I leave?
Tick, tock
the hour should be at hand soon.
Tick, tock
when will they come for me?
The guards have finally arrived
and they unlock the door,
letting me out into freedom,
into handcuffs and ball-and-chain.
"Time to go," one says.
"It's time," says the other.
How true it is...
Down a hall to another room
where there sits a throne
made up just for me.
Wood and metal twisting together
with leather bracelets so I can't
fall off of it.
How kind of them to include those!
They strap me in and put a crown on my head.
"Any last words, your majesty?"
I hear a bald man say.
"It's almost time to go."
"Last words. Well, I'm sure my time is already up,"
I smile at him.
"The clock on the wall says so."
I look up and both hands are touching,
holding each other's hands.
"Throw the switch."
I look up a last time
and a face smiling at me,
two hands on its forehead.
I laugh with a final breath
"It's time. It's time.
Look now, it's time. Tick, tock.
Tick, tock. Tick tock..."
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Once again, I'm sorry. These were both thought up on walks along a highway and both started out as ideas for short stories.Last Lullaby
Hush now,
my baby,
sleep tight in your bed
Remember this s..."
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Memories of an AngelA short story based partially on me put into verse... No, my parents are fine. :)
When I was born, my mother died.
When I was born, my father left me
on the doorstep of a neig..."
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "Memories of a ButterflyFrom the day I was born,
I have had to fight for my life.
After my mother put me up
for adoption, I had to fend
for myself in the bleak world.
January 2nd, Age Six
I alre..."
WTH EJ! I'm a sobbing mess!
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "When Crazy Met Insane IICrazy was being locked up
for trying to break into a prison.
Insane was being thrown away
for trying to break out of prison.
When Crazy met Insane,
sparks could just be ..."
lolz, maybe Crazy's head tasted like lemon.
EJ, Zombie, Ugly wrote: "I'M SORRY!I'm good with depression."
Depression makes the best writers
Mod
I was just bullied up until I realized I don't give a shit about what they think or do...
like shoving dirt in my mouth.
Mod
It REALLY started in 3rd Grade...
I'm a starting Senior in High School and giving a presentation (hopefully) on bullying to middle and elementary students.
O.o If I was on a computer I would show you how much that first one hit me.
Mod
I taught it better.
This is where I fail. :)