He sat there, like a criminal in the electric chair. Not able to move. Paralysed from the neck down. Just waiting. Every second more precious than the last. I sat across him, feeling utterly empty, not knowing what to say to make things better. He looked at me and smiled, because that’s all he could do. My mom stood next to him. He tried to comfort her, trying to comfort him. She held his cold hand. With countless amounts of tears filled with despair rolling down her cheeks, she said: “It’s not over.” A few weeks later, it was over.
Encouragements & Suggestions
Rachel's Encouragements :
1. I loved the way how you incorporated a lot of walking dictionary words and other very fancy vocabulary words within your story. 2. It was amazing to see how you transformed a simple 100 word story in a whole creative writing piece 3. While reading your freewriting I could easily tell you put a lot of effort into writing it.
1. Even though I liked your air of mystery within this freewriting piece it was sometimes hard to tell what was going on 2. Put a bit more detail in your writing to help paint a clearer picture
Raffie's encouragements: 1.You are very clear and its easy to understand whats going on 2. You manage to convey a lot of feeling in such short sentences and phrases, which is good (A skill I need to work on) 3. The flashbacks in italics really work 4. The they, sorry, she bits are quite clever 5. The stream of concious thinking is a great characteriser
Raffie's suggestions: 1. Is your mum his wife? That would make him your dad, which would make sense, but then it is a bit hard to understand with 'my mum' as the only clue oh no wait, he could be a stepdad. oh great. that makes it complicated 2. Your sentence 'I sat across...make things better.' is a little too long, could be made shorter, doesnt fit the mood you could try 'I didnt now what to say' or something like that. 3. your voice/tone changes from the first normal (non-italics) paragraph and the last normal one. You were rather informal and pondering, then changed to observant and reflective 4. You have two 'deliberate mask' sections one after the other, which sounds a bit awkward 5. you have a few weird sentences, such as '..had contact with her much since it happened', and '...into what was now her home only.' Think about playing around with word order 6. Sweet talking is a phrase I don't understand
I didn't know how to react when I would see her again. It's been such a long time and I haven't had contact with her much ever since it happened. Should I bring it up? Or is that discourteous? Or maybe it's discourteous if I don't bring it up. I mean, he meant a lot to the both of us.. Alright, you know what, I'll just wait for her to bring it up. If she doesn't want to talk about him, she won't mention it.
He sat there like a criminal in the electric chair. Not able to move. Paralysed from the neck down. Every second more precious than the last. I sat across from him, observing everything and everyone around me. I felt the rough surface of the couch. I heard birds chirping and the flowing of the water in the stream outside. I heard the whistling sound of the wind that blew the leaves from the trees. I heard their tears gliding down their cheeks and splattering onto the linoleum floor. Tears of affliction.
"Hi ladies, come in." My mom and I followed the woman into what was now her home only. She directed us to their, I'm sorry, her couch and we seated. I looked around me. Trying to consume everything with my senses. I heard the frogs croaking and the splash of water when they jumped in the pond. I heard the speeding cars on the highway. I heard the ticking of the antique clock they had, sorry, she had hanging on the wall. They talked, I listened. She looked like she was doing well, but I could see right through that deliberate mask and I didn't know what to feel nor what to say. So I didn't say anything. I just listened.
He smiled at me. But I could see right through that deliberate mask and I didn't know what to feel nor what to say. So I felt empty. So I didn't say anything. I just listened. My mom stood next to him. He was comforting her who was trying to comfort him. "Soon you might be able to cycle again." My mom said with a broken voice, like her words were drowning in her own tears. I could see him smiling, but he unseeingly shook his head. Only I who observed even his slightest movement could see. What was she even trying to do? There was no hope , yet she kept sweet talking him. And I couldn't stand it.
"So how is everything going with you?" I snapped out of my own world and returned to the world of death and suffering. "Fine, I guess." I answered while shrugging my shoulders. I read somewhere that shoulder shrugs indicate either a lie or ignorance. I think that shrug indicated both. "How about you?" I asked to keep the conversation going. And that question did it all. Her eyes started to water, her lips started to quiver and her voice broke just like her soul. Everything she'd do, everywhere she'd go, it would remind her of him. Because he was her life. They were together since what seemed forever and then that died. Even this house is filled with him. The objects, the smell, the atmosphere. All resulting in undying affliction.
He tried to talk to me, but his words were inaudible. I couldn't understand. My dad told me to stand up and go to him. So I did. My warm hand left the rough couch and replaced it with a cold hand. A dying hand that was attached to a dying body. We just stared at each other. No words were needed, for I knew what he was saying. I hugged him. He didn't put his arm around me. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. I just kept hugging him, cause that was the last time I could. I kept thinking how unfair this was. How he did not deserve to die now, like this. How the bad cells permeated his body or even how they formed from it. But I had to accept it, for there was nothing I could do and I refused to succumb. So I softly whispered in his ear: "Goodbye."
I changed my freewriting post into a creative writing post. I think this to be better, because now I could give more details about the situation. I also liked to continue this freewriting post into an actual story and posting it on my website. Even though it was required to write a 100 word story, I still thought it to be too short and that's why I formalized it into what it's now. I formalized it by making it longer, giving it more details and putting more imagination into it so the readers could imagine the situation better too.