Writing Feedback / "the chase" story [4]

this is a part of a short story, i need some grammerical check, and also i'd like to know where in the story is it hard to follow? is it boring? if so where in this piece u lose ur interest in reading? where it stops flowing?

i really appreciate ur thoughts, it means a ot to me.:)

"I'm sorry for all that is happening, but..."

"But what? You can't deny anything. It was you. This whole shit is about you. IT WAS YOU who got me into this. IT WAS YOU whom they were after. IT IS FOR YOU that I'm now in the middle of nowhere..." I yelled at him with the loudest and wildest voice that had ever come out of my mouth.

He cut my word, "I'm sorry. I wish I could take you back. I would do anything to get you back." he paused and looked down, "I wish I could go back in time, I promise I would fix everything this time" he murmured, and this time I knew I he wasn't talking to me anymore.

We stood there in silence under the dying light of moon and stars for a very long moment, and not for a second we moved our eyes; his fixed on the ground and mine on his tired face.

At last, I decided to break the silence rather to lighten the heavy guilt that was growing on my heart,

"I'm s..." .

Something banged not so far behind us, and I felt my heart fell somewhere far down in my stomach; apparently I wasn't the only one who had decided to break the silence. I gazed at him on horror and confusion, "How did they fin-"

Something exploded again, this time a few feet away from us, and it finished my question with a hysterical scream; it was then that someone started shooting. Without any intention I found myself crumbled on the muddy ground, clenching my frozen fingers behind my head. I saw a bullet digging deep down into the mud next to me, I knew it was only because of the twilight that I wasn't shot yet, but I also knew I had to move or it was death that was awaiting me. But in my whole body not a single cell had the nerve to move, I was as stiff as a stone. Fear had stamped me to the ground.

It was his cry that brought me back to earth,

"RUN!" he shouted, "RUN, DAMN IT, RUN!"

I looked up at him that was standing next to me, dragging me up by my shoulders; His face was paler that the moon that was shining above his head.

I got on my shaking feet and I started running with him. I ran with the all the strength I had, and with the fastest speed I could afford.

Soon my feet were barely touching the ground; I had never ever run this fast in my life. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be ever able run this fast. I ran with him.

I ran for my life.

Writing Feedback / The mighty (movie) essay. Max's past. [5]

so i dont know if you guys have seen the movie "the mighty" but its about two boys who make friends and one of them is really big but dumb, or he think he is, and the other one is really smart but he cant walk. the essay i have to write should be about one of these boys' past. i adn my friend decided to write about max, the one with no brain, who has seen his mother being killed by his father when he was five. here it is, plz tell me what u think:]

Max's Past

It was a cold and gloomy night; he was only five years old - too young to know what death meant, what madness meant, what loss meant, and on that night he had to witness them all together. He was just 5 years old boy had to witness his mother being killed. Not even in his craziest nightmares he had never seen what he saw that night before his open eyes.

He was sitting on his bed holding his smooth blue blanket close to his chest, pushing his little fingers into his ears; trying to listen to his heavy breaths instead of what was echoing in his ears. He knew it was not the first time and was not going to be the last time; it was a long time that every night he had to crumple beneath his bed and tremble in fear. Large tear drops were careening down his round pale face. He could hear their voices in the other room; the loud noises echoing throughout his ears. They were yelling at each other; having a fight, again. Sliding out of his bed, he slowly walked over towards his door before gradually opened his door. He finally managed the courage to creep out of his room and gaze at what was unfolding before him. His father had his hand on his mother's throat while her hands wrapped around his arm. Max exhaled a mad cry as he watched what was happening before him. His father looked over at Max then back at his wife, who was now in a heap on the floor, but she was still alive. Max uttered another cry in disbelief at what was happening; he loved his mother, how could his father do something so utterly terrible? Where did this horrifying nightmare come from? He simply couldn't believe it. His mother let out a gasp and choked some before attempting to crawl to the phone to get a hold of the police. When his father noticed what she was doing, he jumped of her frail frame and continued his strangling. His fingers wrapped around her slender throat and began to crush her windpipe for good. Max rushed to them, sobbing in fear and anger; he clenched his fingers around his father's arms and tried to pull him away. When soon he learned that his power was nothing against his dad's, he started scratching, biting and kicking to wherever in his dad's body he could reach. He looked at his mother's face that now was turning gray. He looked into her eyes, where he could always see the burning flame of life, but now they were cold and dark. A new and unknown fear flew into his veins: what was happening to her? Why wasn't she screaming anymore? Why wasn't she struggling anymore?

With a mad insane cry, he reached his father's hair and started pulling them as hard as he could. His father, finally, let go of his mother's throat, but before Max wanted to think of it as a victory a cold clumsy hand pound him in the face...

Writing Feedback / A short story draft - dirty job, "Dear Diary" comment [7]

so this is my short story draft. there are seperate parts that will be connected in the last draft.
i'd love to hear your comments.

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"Dear Diary,

I have the worst job in the world. Forget all you've seen in the dirtiest jobs show; my job, certainly, is the dirtiest job in the history of jobs.

In this many years that I've been doing this job, I've tried to resign from it like a hundred times, but my boss, oh my boss... he never accepts. He has his own rules well.

This morning I asked for resignation once more.
I cant take it anymore, I'm tired of seeing their scared faces, of listening to them begging for their lives -for another chance- and I'm tired of rejecting them all, of being the heartless guy in all scenarios. I'm tired of hearing their families weeping...

I know that I shouldn't blame myself, 'cause I'm only doing my job, but sometimes I, too, feel sorry for those who I take their lives away...

It's funny but I keep wishing that my time comes sooner. I've seen enough deaths, now I want to touch it myself.
o' well, I have to go now, my pager light is on. urgh..Another mission. later."
-------

I put my black coat on and put the diary in my drawer. I didn't expect another mission this late at night, but well, as I was telling my diary; my boss has his own rules.

-------

I grab my tools and for the a millionth time in my life I wish that this would be the last mission.

-------
I don't know how is it going to happen this time; a blown up car? a blown up building? or dead with a knife standing in the chest? Or the most recent one; suicide?

------
I have a rather quick flight to my mission place.
--------

I was almost right about my mission; it is going to be a building on fire, close to my guess.
------

There are children inside; I can feel their beating lives, their enthusiasm for it. They are young people in it, building up their lives. And also there are old people in there, waiting for death; well, tonight is their lucky day.

-----

I wait outside the building till the appropriate time to arrive, while waiting I review my mission once more; 5 apartments out of 49 were going to get fire, and 65 people out of 416 were going to die. Quite fair.

------
My pager goes on again. There was a message waiting. I roll the screen down; it is from my boss's secretary. One familiar sentence "you resignation's not been accepted."

-----
anger flows into my blood; how could he do it again?
----
I groan madly, if that is the way he wants to ignore me after years and years of my faithful service, I have my way of being careless too.

-----
Soon the building is on fire, but I am not going to wait for fire to finish them. I myself will do it. One by one. I am not caring if this is not what it was planned, if its not what boss wants, and if its not what these people want.

Who cares about me?
-------
I finish them all sooner than I usually would do. I don't even know how many did I finish tonight. can't keep track of numbers when I'm angry.

---------
I sit next to the broken down building, and watch cops and firemen as they ran inside and outside building. I guess my face is just as much in pain as is everybody else's, 'cuz a fireman approaches me and asks if I'm ok, I shake my head, not to his question but to the greet I feel inside. "do you need help sir?" I shake my head again and get on my feet. time to walk away.

--------
I see people running for their lives. Not much far from me two men are trying to bring a woman back to life, I can smell their sweat, I can feel the life sweeping away from the woman's body. it won't be hard for me to take away their lives, all three of them. but enough lives been taken away tonight. my anger has ruined enough lives.

my pager goes on again. I'm summoned. I was expecting it... he would want to see me after all this. In my heart I wish that his anger will go out of his control and this time he finishes me, although I well know it won't happen. as I pass an open window I hear the news on tv "...356 people are reported dead till this moment. 65 deaths were caused by fire and the other...well, police hasn't found any reason for their deaths yet..." I don't wait to hear the rest.

----
a fast flight back home.
------
And another flight to his office.
It's all dark outside; I take off my coat and drop it on the floor. I don't bother to knock on the door for I know he already knows I'm standing behind his door. when I dare to look up I see him, smiling. "my dear friend, Samael." all my hopes vanishes as I see his calm smiling face. "hey God," I reply back his greetings. he looks at my face, and of course reads my thoughts "don't be disappointed. you know hope is..." I cut him and finish his word myself: "hope is the last thing to die. I know."

"you went mad again tonight, right? or its your counting skills? 65 and 356. its quite a big difference"
"what will happen to those I killed tonight?"
"I will, for sure, give them back the life they lost. I'll send them back to earth again."
"and their families?"
"I'll pay them back for this in heaven."
I stopped asking questions.
"are you still angry?" God asked, placing his arm around my shoulder. "not anymore. I'm perfectly in peace now. you know I cant be mad when I'm around you." I answered. he laughed "well, you're not the only one. I guess no one can."

"so what's up now? I'm fired?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"no my dear, you're not. we've got about a million more man-years to go and you are the one and only death angle I've got."

"God, stop saying that. we both know you can create thousands like me in a second."
God sighs. "so you want thousands more to suffer the way you do?"
I don't say anything. no, I don't, but I don't want to take away lives anymore either. God talks for me, just so I could hear my words "no you don't. but you don't want to take away lives either." he repeated my thoughts. "what is so wrong in taking lives away?" he asked. "what is not wrong with it God? They all hate me; you should see the look on their faces when I pull the life out of their bodies." God cuts me this time "I have seen them all. Every single look. You know that right?"

"right. you got that one. but besides that... you remember that one time -well it was more than one- but that one time that the guy -what was his name? Hitler?- he beat the shit outa me before he gives up his life?"

God laughed bitterly.
"yes, I do remember him very well." God's face fell. he didn't enjoy remembering those who have gave up their humanity before they give up the soul they almost didn't have any more, but soon he put a smile back on, "but you know every job has its own difficulties. Even being God." he paused and then continued; "I understand your pain and suffering, Samael, I really do. I swear to beauty of this night that I understand your pain, as I do understand a deer's pain when it has to give up her life to a lion's survival. or as I understand people's pain when they have to give up their beloved lives to death."

and so I give up arguing with him to the peace of silence. "why did you create death at all?" I ask.
"So there will be life." he answers.
"when mine will come to an end then?"
"soon, my dear, soon."
soon, yes, of course only a million other years.
Gods smiles at my thoughts, and starts humming a song; i close my eyes, and fall asleep in his arms - hoping that it would last forever.

Writing Feedback / Castin Characters #1: Jim [8]

HI people, this is newsha. we have an assignment for creative writing class we should describe five characters in a scene. this is the first one; Jim. I was inspired by the character of Jim in "the office". so, yeah...you will know.

plz be as critic as you can.
thanks you guys.

Character #1: Jim

History class, last period of the Friday; unlike other days no one was falling asleep. I was nervous, waiting for the teacher to give me a chance to talk to Jim. As soon as the teacher turned her back to us, I spanned in my seat to face Jim.

"Dude! This is SO wrong!" I gasped, but he didn't notice me for he was too involved in his cell phone.
"Jim?" I called him angrily. "Huh?"He finally noticed me. "What is it?" he said when he saw my serious look. "I think you shouldn't do this. We shouldn't..." he stopped me by raising his hand, he continued my words: "We shouldn't do this, right? That's what you wanna say? We already talked about this with the whole class: No one has the freaking assignment ready. If she checks it we are all going to fail."

"I know...But is this worth it?" I asked. "We would never know until we don't do it, right?" he said, raising his eyebrows, putting a smile on; like any other time that he wanted you to admit his rightness. "What if you get caught?" I whispered nervously. "They won't. I'm sending it via Bluetooth." He replied. "What if they do?" I insisted. He didn't reply, just stared at me for a few seconds and then threw his shoulders up, meaning "I don't know" or in Jim's words "Who cares?"

I seated back anxiously, chewing on my nails. five minutes later the teacher's cell phone rang. I held my breath in, and I could swear that everybody else's breath was held in too. The teacher stopped and looked at her purse confusingly. "I'm so sorry people, I think I forgot to turn it off. Sorry." She rushed to her desk, reaching her purse as soon as she could. she pulled out the cell phone..."Yes! She is looking at it. I knew she would!" Jim murmured behind me. "shhhhh!" I said, kicking his foot under the desk. I looked back at my teacher; her face was now chalk white. "Oh my God!" she gasped, putting her hand on her chest. The phony whispers of "is everything ok?" and "what's wrong?" soon were all over the class - some filthy irony; we were the ones who knew what was wrong. When the teacher gained enough control over her voice she said: "I...I just got a text...my...my son has had an accident. It's from his friend." She didn't say anything else; she just grabbed her purse and ran out of the class room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the class burst into whispers, this time I knew they were on Jim, blaming on him for what they have wanted him to do. "Is that what you wanted? Believe me; you would be lucky if these kids don't tell on you." I said furiously. Jim looked around, not the slightest worrying sign in his face; looking back at me again he threw his shoulders up again: "Who cares, huh?"

Writing Feedback / "I was running" essay. Grammar and punctuation help. [7]

I was running. The whole world was still and I was running. Nothing existed but me and a world of roads to run in... the beats of my hopeful heart, and short breaths of mine were all I could hear. my throat was dry, and my hands shaking -my feet; weaker than ever. With every crazily beat of my heart the black curtain in front of my eyes strengthened... I well knew I was not far from falling apart.

But why now? Now that I needed them more than any other time? Now that I had to continue, now that I had to stand, now that I had to fight? Why now?

The harsh air of winter tore my throat with every breath. Death was close, but I had never imagined dying in this way. I was supposed to die like millions of other people: in sleep, in hospital or in a car accident. But life has chosen me a more creative way.

I couldn't feel anything anymore...nothing but pain.
My weakness was growing, but road was widespread in front of me...

"Hope" was the only power left in me.

Writing Feedback / The first time i crossed the road by myself [5]

this is supposed to be descriptive, i know there are so many mistakes. plz help.
thanks

It was a drowsy hot afternoon of the sixth summer of my life. I -like every other days of summer- was in my small tent in my room, cooling off. Bored with my toys, I went to kitchen to beg my mom for buying some ice-cream. "Ok." my mom said, "Go grab some money from my wallet. buy a package of milk too and come back soon." she continued. I ran to her purse excitedly. "But" she yelled from kitchen. I froze. "but what?' I thought. "Don't go too far." she warned me. "I won't." I replied, knowing that "too far" didn't mean anything but the other store on the other side of the road -I was not allowed to cross the road by myself. I walked as fast as I could to the closest store, "Hi. Can I have an ice-cream and a small package of milk please?" I asked in the sweetest and most polite voice I could manage. The sale's man looked at me from above his glasses "Milk - I can give u. But ice-cream, we're out of it. sorry." I sighed, and nodded my head. After paying for milk, I walked out of the store, my heart was set on ice cream, and for a six years old ice cream is not something to just let go of .Sun was burning on my neck and the warm breath of summer blew into my hair; they rushed into my face. In a second I had my mind made up; I tightened my feast around my money, I moved the hair back from my face, and started running as fast as I could, stopping every now and then to pick up my flip flop that had came off my foot, but in less than a minute I was there: right by the road side.

The yellow and blue sign of grocery market was right in front of me. The road was as safe as a side walk, no car was passing. I took a deep breath, tightened my toes in my flip flop and ran. Less than a second; I was on the other side. Colorful posters of ice creams were hanged on the door; to me it was like advertisements for heaven, although all those thoughts vanished when I saw the sale's man face. Now without my mom by my side, the salesman looked bigger than other days. While putting my ice cream in the bag he threw a look down at me, his eyes focusing on the bags in my hands. "Did you just by them from there?" he asked, looking at my face and pointing his finger to the other side of the street. I nodded, smiling shyly. "Well, you can always come here for shopping. We have better stuff than them. We have those dinosaur ice creams and fish snacks. You can't find those there." he emphasized on "there" which would be the market on the other side of the street. "Huh? Don't you think so?" he nettled. "Yes sir." I replied, dragging the ice cream's bag from the counter. "Good bye sir." I said. "Good bye kid." mumbled the man. I walked out and didn't wait to go to other side to eat my ice cream.

Writing Feedback / Essay on describing a scene in my life (that last time i saw my friends) [7]

this is the outline for a paper that im writing for my creative writing class, its describing a scene from my life. its the last time that i saw my friends. as i said its just the outline, i mean the order that i want to say things and my thoughts and ideas.

i would love to know what u think about it. let me know plz. thanks to u guys all. :)

~For the hundredth time on that night my hand slept down into my purse; moving panicky until it touched the cold glossy paper of my tickets. My heart calmed, although I well knew that it wouldn't take more than 5 minutes till my hands return into my purse.

~My friends were going to come and meet me at my grandmother's place. I was anxious. I had my letters that I had written for them a few days back in my hand, sitting among my relatives.

~The one who usually answers the door in my grandmother's was my uncle but When the door bell rang, I sprang up and ran to the door before anybody moves.

~It was amazing, even at the time I knew I was leaving them I couldn't be sad;Their presence -their existence- was nothing but joy and happiness.

~I sighed, the moment was so gorgeous that I wanted it to last for ever. I looked upon their faces, memorizing each and every expression, every glare, every smile, and every twinkle in their eyes.

~"We promised not to cry, remember?" Maryam reminded me, misunderstanding my expression. "we didn't need to" I thought, stretching my hand to place it on her shoulder. "I'll miss you guys more than anything else."

~they stayed only for a few minutes, long enough to hand me their letters, post cards (which were meant to be for my next b day) and say good bye. In those short minutes, we repeated our old jokes, giggled about guys we used to know,

~sky was clear; darkest black with hundreds of shining dots.

~I watched the car till it disappeared at the of the curve of the street.

~I stood there, right in the middle of street. A cool wind blew into my hair; warning of a cold winter, I shuddered in my grandmother cherry red jacket, rising my head up to the sky, staring at each and every shining dot. I stood there until my mom called me in, before I walk back inside I took a deep breath and smiled wide; one thing was for sure: at least stars weren't going anywhere, they were all coming with me.

that is it. thank u again. :)

Undergraduate / how important the thesis is? [3]

on my essay i dont have a specific sentence as thesis but i almost repeat what i have said in instruction at the conclusion... how much does it matter?

thanks.