Anonymous
Anonymous asked in Arts & HumanitiesBooks & Authors · 1 decade ago

I know its annoying but what do you think of this?

Chapter 1

Attempted suicide, not simply suicide, it was attempted suicide. How could I have possibly failed at something so easy? Only a few weeks ago it was the anniversary of the dreadful yet inerasable event. During the past year I’d gone through a series of counselling and health checkups unwillingly. Mum and Ross had watched me like a couple of ravenous vultures not leaving me alone or with anything potentially life threatening. They’d never understood me, and would cease to until the true end of my days. I was on mental pills. I’d spiralled into the darkness of depression and had been taking pills ever since, they helped me stay on the lighter path. Light was good, light was right and light was the only way to keep sane.

Since the attempt I’d began to look in the mirror and see myself, not a frightening hallucination I used to be subjected to but ordinary Christine Evans. I could see my tumbling falls of blonde hair and my watery eyes of emerald green. I’d also boosted my confidence meaning life at school had become less of a challenge. In the months before my attempt I’d felt the walls closing in. I’d imagined the kind, friendly eyes to be murderous and thirsty. After regaining my sanity I’d reconnected myself to my friends and made a new alliance in that short year.

Tom had always been there, but on the outskirts of social groups. He’d always intrigued me, which I was sure of. His rusty coloured hair was ruffled carelessly and his brown eyes were dark, on the verge of red. He had a strange warmth that seemed to illuminate from him which drew me in after my many months of bitter coolness. After hearing about my dark situation he attached himself to me, my sudden protector. He was toned and mouth wateringly beautiful but we kept our relationship on a friendly basis, to his apparent disappointment. I knew girls looked on with venomous eyes but I didn’t care for there judgmental ways.

And then there was him…

He was here once again. I could smell him; it was always the first symptom. For two weeks now I’d been dreading he’d come. I could smell his strong aroma of what I imagine bottled winter smells like. History had become something in some ways to look forward to everyday and in others avoid.

It had started with Mr Gregory introducing the topic for the session. Had I but known Mr Gregory was going to be our teacher I would have avoided choosing the subject. I sat at the back of the classroom, not because I tended to chat a lot or muck about, it was because it was the safest place as far as I was concerned. Mr Gregory had a tendency to lean threatening over the desks of those in the front rows. Two down from me remained, as always, eerily empty. It hadn’t ever been assigned to a student, for as long as I’d done history that is. That was until precisely ten past nine on a drizzly Monday morning, in other words the anniversary of my unforgotten suicide attempt.

I smelt him first. Mr Gregory didn’t allow us to open any of his classroom windows, in fear of one of us trying to escape out of it, so the scent hadn’t drifted through there. I checked the scent again. Surprisingly the rest of the class hadn’t been stirred by it, this cancelled out the suggestion of bottled fragrances like Lynx or Charlie. Many people in my year spent half of their lives spraying themselves with the new scents. Puzzled, I slouched back into my chair and returned my attention back to Mr Gregory, more than unwillingly. Looking at the board I found that the words weren’t making much more sense than usual. I finally resorted to not paying attention at all.

I was dreamily staring and to space and didn’t notice a strange and mysterious figure stride casually into the room, glance around and sit in the abandoned chair to my far right. He retrieved a bounded notebook, stained and battered, from his equally tattered bag and began to take notes. He scribbled rapidly, writing more than Mr Gregory had. The fact that nobody had noticed his entrance would have intrigued me, if I’d have been paying attention that is.

It was only when I exchanged looks with the windows view I spotted him out of the corner of my eye.

His tall, broad frame was placed in a careless fashion over the cheap plastic chairs the cheap-skate council had provided. Every so often his hand would pause to give him a second to read over his notes. A look of brief concentration sharpened his expression. I found myself entranced by his mysterious enamour. His tufts of floppy black hair fell hasty across his perfectly sculpted features. It was his eyes that truly fascinated me, memorable indigo pools looking humorously at the board; at least someone seemed able to decipher the mess of words. His eyes sat cosily in his almond shape sockets. He looked like a normal boy, but all my instincts were screaming to me that he was more than human. That in itself drew me to him. I instantly

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  • 1 decade ago
    Favorite Answer

    I love it!! While it is obvious that you are not yet a mature, seasoned writer, you are nevertheless quite capable of creating striking and memorable images in the mind of the reader...... "bottled winter" for example: way cool image!! You have a great imagination, and manage to hold the interest of the reader well (and i REALLY want to know how and why the mysterious boy whose eyes "sat cosily" in their almond-shaped sockets (missed the "d" while proofreading i see, lol!) was "more than human" - i smell a sci-fi romance thriller coming on :-+). 3) After writing a section of a story, go back over it and see how it could be made to not only flow more smoothly, but also check to find places where there are too many words that don't add much to the forward momentum of the narrative - or where there seem to be words or concepts missing - such as "cheap skate council": one is left to wonder "Band council? City council? Village council?" - filling in blanks like this, so long as it is done carefully so as to enhance interest instead of distracting the reader, adds to the setting: band council tells you right away, for example, that Christine lives on a reservation.

    Overall, very promising: you have what it takes to be a GOOD writer - a firm grasp of the English language, good vocabulary, lots of imagination, the ability to come up with memorable phrases..... i would encourage you to keep on writing and to take every opportunity to sharpen your skills.

    A few words of advice: 1) check your writing carefully for grammatical errors - like "bounded notebook" - which is also 2) an awkward construction, which there are also a few other examples of in your writing - like "fell hasty", referring to his hair: just doesn't quite work.

    Source(s): A lifetime of reading.
  • 1 decade ago

    You are off to a good start here. But a word to the wise. if you want people to be drawn to your story, even on here, learn to make anything you post clean. By that I mean, correct spelling as best you can, also grammar. Indent paragraphs, or even remember to put paragraphs in. Most people probably clicked on this, saw the mass of words and went on.

    It should be "bound" not bounded..

    But do you see what I mean? You have a very good start to a story here but when put it out with all its mistakes showing, few people will wade through it to find the gold. I did and thought it was very interesting. it doesn't have to perfect, but it should be presentable.

    Good luck and keep writing!

  • 1 decade ago

    I'll be honest, I only read about the first paragraph and skipped around through the rest. I feel you're trying to hard to make your sentences and languages sophisticated, but it only makes them unnecessarily complicated. In prose like this, you're not writing an essay, so keep the language and sentences a bit simpler and more to the point, and the reader will be more interested in the story. And by simpler I don't mean 'dumb it up' but use diction and structure appropriately for the story you're telling. Feel free to disagree, this is only my humble opinion.

  • 1 decade ago

    It's like a copy of twilight a little. The organization is really bad and it's hard to keep up with the changing ideas it is hard to understand. Check your spelling. Nice vocabulary though.

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  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    It was good but Tom seems a lot like a copy of Edward Cullen in his days of eating humans... cuz that turns you eyes red and then they get darker.

  • 1 decade ago

    It's really is annoying! I think you love this pocket book story but you don't have to write it down here thought. Oh well,Have fun and good luck.

  • Beautifully amazing. Actually, send me the rest when you get started!

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Its amazing, yu wrote that? really desciptive with lots of suspense!!

    good luckk in writing !!

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    Story not finished, but bravo on the first part! :)

  • Anonymous
    1 decade ago

    omg, ts great! keep writing, and I want to be first in line to buy this book!

    ~Sierra

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