Can anyone edit my story, an see if it makes sense, grammar check pls?

At ten minutes to three in the morning, the city of Montgomery in Alabama lay inert, hot and stagnant. Jamal, who was being released from penitentiary in about two hours, lay in the vague corner, thinking about his folks. Jamal was a statuesque African American, who hadn’t done much in life, besides the fact that he didn’t give his seat away. Jamal was first brought to penitentiary when his stubborn mind ignored the rankly little white man trying to take his bus seat away from him. After moments of ignorance, he was handcuffed by the local sheriff; he was dragged to the nearest police force location. There, Jamal was sent to the interrogation room to be asked many questions involving “white pride”. Jamal was finally being released from being behind the bars for three years. He had already decided that he would become a merchant at a fruit farm bazaar. Jamal had recently grown an afro, as they did in the 1900’s. He was also thriving for a good jug of beer; Jamal was not an intense alcoholic, though now and then his body needed it to survive. Jamal had gotten only one meal a day and a slight cup of fresh water from “Lac de Montgomery”.

As Jamal was having a flashback of his life in prison, the antechamber door opened; there came a man holding a large bronze key as if it were green emerald. Jamal leaped up from the dusty floor and inclined against the durable black bars of the cell. As the man turned the key in the lock, the metals clashed together, making the stinging din of a hundred nails in a small pail. The man walked in and handcuffed Jamal, while trying to tie his legs together with the other hand. The man grabbed the rusty hand-cuffs and dragged him out of the cell, scrapping his grey rubber boots against the bare cement, leaving black rubber streaks on the ground. The moon was gone by the time Jamal was sent to the interrogation room. Jamal was being asked many question including this one, “Would you ever disobey a white man?” Jamal, was frightened from jail so he answered the one which would lead him to safety. After a few minutes of questioning Jamal was released onto the bleak roads of Montgomery.

A few shaded street lamps in the main business pushed hard shadows against the closed stores, the surviving movie theater, and the silent gas station. At the corner where the bleak highways intersected at right angles, the air-conditioner at Baites Tack Shop was on, its steady throb purring against the mournful night. Jamal stood on top of the rusty metallic dumpster and took a deep breath and sighed with relief. Jamal had a habit of taking deep breaths when he was under stress; his mother said it was his allergies. Jamal used his sore muscles to lift the tar black lid of the dumpster, and revealed a torn rag. Jamal wasn’t a perfectionist, so he used this rag to spend his night in. Jamal strikingly woke up with a gasp and saw the calm sun. The bright light rays of light crashed into his deep black iris. He yawned and looked around to see why there was a large crowd staring at the greasy sweat racing down his dull black face, vanishing into his deep black curly beard. Jamal, disgraced of his look grabs a sharp grey rock and despite the fact he was religious, cuts of his beard. Holding his curly black beard, Jamal proclaimed, “This ain’t any fashion show, leave me alone.”

He fixed his hair as usual and took in a deep breath. “What does that say?” thought Jamal as he noticed a bold green sign with bright Italic letters spelling, “Help Wanted.” He slowly crept towards his left to take a good look at the letters, since they blended in with the dazzling green background. Jamal also took a clear look at the astounding furniture inside the vivid store. The hand crafted cherry colored chairs blended into the background of the deep maroon blinds with golden stripes. He was jubilant to notice a big buff white man in the store; he thought he was the owner. Jamal also noticed a small unorthodox white man running out of the store with a rapid pace. Oblivious of whom he was Jamal ran to the store front and rammed the white man into the shaded glass windows; also cut a hole into his pale stomach with the rock he was holding. Jamal thought that the man was in the middle of a solemn burglary. The man was bleeding as if he was bitten by a ferocious Bengal Tiger.

“What are you doing with my customer,” said the storekeeper with a southern accent.

Without having any time to answer, Jamal was hand-cuffed yet again by the town sheriff and loitered into the police station. As Jamal was being dragged, his skin caught into the rough flakes of concrete and ripped open. Jamal, was confused at this moment and was wondering about what he had done. Jamal was in full action of trying to remove the pink hands of the manacle; he managed to do this, though he was in a chamber by the time it was accomplished. Jamal was as irate as a caged bull when he found out that he was going to spend a long time in prison, perhaps all eternity

1 Answer

  • 10 years ago
    Favorite Answer

    Interesting story. I'd change (thriving) to urning, (question) to questions, (of ) to off his beard, and (loitered) to taken to the police station.

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