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Bookbreath
Josette Shakespeare
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08-04-2009, 04:17 PM
“Cold, dark, alone. Dripping noise coming from the left. Nothing but a thin t-shirt and a old pair of jeans. I’ve been down here for what I think is four days. I’m writing this on the far north wall with the black marker He threw at me when He put me down here. My arm is bleeding again. I don’t know what I did this time. He normally tells us as He drags us to the door. I can hear walking about me. Yelling, He pushes open the door and a dark figure gets pushed in. Mark. He whimpers as he gets thrown down the 5 steep steps. I can hear Marks careful steps as he slowly walks to the south wall. That’s where he always sits. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am, why are we down here, and when are we getting out?”
Putting the cap back on my marker, I ask, knowing the drill of Mark coming down after I’ve been down here for a while, “Mark, are you ok?”
“I think my head is bleeding, but I’ll be fine.” He crawled over to me.
“How long have I been in here?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him. He was three months older than me and came to this foster home about four weeks after I did. We knew this home wasn’t going to last long and that before too long we were going to be split up and sent to different homes, but we were going to try and stay together as long as we could. We were so close to being eighteen and out on our own that we were planning to live together when we got out of the system.
“Six days. I asked a question about you and got thrown down here. He was mad.” He sat up out of my grip and wrapped his arms around me. I had to feel cold as ice.
“You know better than to do that.” I stood up, pulling him up with me.
“I know but, I had to know if you were okay. Everyone said you were dead. I mean six days without food and water. We thought you were a goner.” He wrapped his arms around my hips pulling me close.
“That new girl Carol brought me food. He told her too I guess.” I put my hands on the nape of his neck. This wasn’t the first time we were down here together.
“That’s good.” He kissed me lightly on the lips. I moved him into the small crack of light coming from a crack in the door. Mark’s forehead was bleeding a bit. It was a clean cut, probably from His knife. The door opened slowly. It was the new girl again.
“Guys, come on. The workers are coming today. You guys have to go get cleaned up and changed. They will be here soon. Come on.” She carefully helped us out the big wooden door. This was our chance to get Him and Her arrested. We walked to Her bedroom where she was going to clean us and give us new clothes. We have tried so many times to get these “parents “ arrested. It’s not right to treat kids the way They do. Giving us one set of clothes to wear until the social workers come again and every time we do the smallest thing wrong, like ask a question, he would throw us in the basement or pull his knife on us.
“What ever happens today guys, remember, we love you.” She stared dressing my arm. She was nurse once, but got fired for steeling stuff. “Don’t tell them about the basement, don’t speak unless spoken too, don’t even look them in the eyes. They want to break our family apart.” She moved on to Mark’s head. “Here are your new clothes, Mark go jump in the shower, Gizmo is going to take a bath.”
She led me to the girl’s bathroom on the other side of the hall. She gave me three little cups, one shampoo, one conditioner, and one body wash. I nodded in gratitude and went in.
It took only five minutes to fill the tub because of this high pressure thing He put in. It was hardly warm at all, but I was grateful. As soon as I was done washing my hair and body there was a knock on the door. “Sweets, please hurry, we have guests.” It was Her. The workers must be here.
“Coming Mom.” That’s what we had to call Her when we had company. I drained to tub and started to dress. My new cloths smelled fresh from the store. They had plenty of nice cloths for us to wear, but they only let us when we, I mean They had company. My blond/red hair was getting to my pants line in the back. I slowly brushed all the tangles out.
Once I had my new clothes on and my hair brushed into a high pony tail like my mom taught me before she died, I stepped out into the hallway. My shirt was pink. It was a polo. My new jeans were big, but weren’t all worn out like my old ones so I didn’t care. Mark came out of the boy’s bathroom right after I did. He was wearing a blue polo with khakis and new tennis. I just had flip flops.
“Looking good Gizmo,” he tasseled my bangs playfully. I hated it when he did that.
“Yeah, well at least I'll be comfy when we have to wear these cloths for a month until the next social workers come.” I shoved him lightly and he acted like it was hard and fake stumbled back.
“Excuse me young lady, what did you just say?” a voice from behind me asked. I didn’t know who it was.
“Oh, I’m sorry, You weren’t suppose to hear that.” I said frantically as I started backing up. If He or She knew I said that, I would be in the basement for the next month. I didn’t know how scared I was of them until it was time to turn them in.
“But I did, now please come with me.” The young looking man said to Mark and me. He could only be in his 20s. “Is there any place we can talk?” He stopped at the end of the hallway.
“The only place without a camera or a microphone would be here in the hallway or in the basement.” Mark said lasing his fingers with mine.
“Well how about we go to my car?” He said opening the door to the laundry room and through the back door to the little fenced in area where we go to run each day for five minutes.
“Can't go out that way,” I said stepping in front of him.
“And why not?” He asked moving my very thin body easily out of the way. “Oh my God, Kathie!” He yelled once he had the second door open. Kathie must be his co-worker because this girl I didn’t know came running down the hall.
“What is it James?” She stopped short when she saw the little nine foot by nine foot pen with the barbed wire around the top. There was skin hanging off in places where kids tried to escape. He always caught them and dragged them back. For some reason, our normal workers never went out the back door, or asked us about our cuts and bruises. The look on their faces was enough to know we were leaving this place.
__________________
Slowly getting to my feet, wishing it was a dream.- Josette Shakespeare
Last edited by Bookbreath; 02-23-2010 at 03:50 PM..
Reason: Finally updated.
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Vall'na Racill
Astrological Phenomenon
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08-04-2009, 07:35 PM
Ohoho, foster peers all alone in a dark room. xD
I like this, the whole mysterious part of it is really cool and makes for a slightly creepy feel from the story. And you can tell right away what the situation is since you come right out and say it but in a different-than-normal way (does that make sense?). Anyway, I like it! But the actions seem piece-y, maybe it's the spacing? Hmm...
But it's good!
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Knerd
I put the K in "Misspelling"
☆☆ Assistant Administrator
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08-05-2009, 02:22 AM
Bookbreath, I've moved your thread into our main Lit Spot forum. The Story Help subforum is for writing-related discussion. If you want people to give you feedback, this is the place to get it. :yes:
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Nolori
Everyone's Favorite Imaginary Fr...
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08-06-2009, 03:42 AM
You want help? You got it! I hope everything I wrote comes in handy!
Also, I kind of hope 'Foster Fail' isn't the offical title. It takes away from the tragedy of the story as a whole. Granted a 'Foster Fail' is exactly what it is. Heh.
I like the idea of the beginning, how she's writing it on the wall. I like that it's disjointed; it gives a sense of pain, discomfort and confusion. That was very well done. I also quite like that 'He' is capitalized. It gives 'Him' a sense of godliness.
My only issue with this part, is that she appears to be writing on the wall while Mark is thrown in. She doesn't appear to have any real reaction when 'He' comes to the door (which considering 'His' status and power of her, I would assume she would have a rather drastic reaction to 'His' presence) and doesn't have a reaction when she sees Mark's obvious pain. I don't mean to say what these reactions should be, considering you know your characters far better than I do. I just think that her reactions and emotional state should be more evident, espeically since she's writing it out as it happens and is clearly disjointed in the very first few sentences.
In general, you're going to want to write out your numbers. Usually, anything under one-hundred is written out. Obviously, if the number is 3.145... then it's typical to put it in numerical form.
While it's not an error, it tends to be a bit more 'professional' if you want to call it that. Or the personal preference of my English teachers. Haha.
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Originally Posted by bookbreath
I asked wrapping my arms around him.
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I think there should be a comma before 'asked'. "I asked, wrapping..."
It's always seemed to me that when two foster kids are adopted they're adopted as real siblings. I figure Gizmo and Mark aren't, but could we have that explained?
I also feel like there are more children in the house (what with the naming of the girl's bathroom and the boy's bathroom and the 'everybody' that Mark talks about), but they don't really seemed to be mentioned elsewhere. Could that be elaborated a bit?
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Originally Posted by bookbreath
“I know but I had to know if you were okay.
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I think there should be a comma before 'but'. "I know, but..."
Quote:
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Originally Posted by bookbreath
“That’s good. He kissed me lightly on the lips. I moved him into the small crack of light coming from a crack in the door. Marks forehead was bleeding a bit. I was a clean cut, probably from His knife. The door opened slowly. It was the new girl again.
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A couple of grammar errors.
"That's good." needs to end the quotation. "Marks" needs an apostrophe, "Mark's". "I was" should probably be, "It was", yeah?
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Originally Posted by bookbreath
We walked to Her bedroom where she was going to clean us and give us new cloths.
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Is 'cloths' supposed to be 'clothes'? It was a little hard to tell. While I kind of like the idea of referring to them as cloths, giving it a sense of rag-like, it doesn't make much sense if 'She' is going to make them presentable.
This paragraph seemed like kind of a jump to me. While I understand the hate they must feel for Him, and by extention Her for enabling Him, by giving Him such a high status (simply be referring to Him with a capital) it seems odd that they would turn on him so freely. I understand where you're going, but I think it should be elaborated. Explain these emotions or reasonings. Is this a common occurance that they would try to get Him arrested? Or is this a new plan spurred by some new hate?
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Originally Posted by bookbreath
She moved on to Marks head.
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Should be 'Mark's head', yeah?
When the social workers come, she seems far less gung-ho to get her foster parents into trouble. This goes back to my question previously.
Then pen confuses me. Could you explain why He and She didn't take it down? (Or didn't have time to?) And yet had time to dress and make the children look presentable? How did the previous social workers not notice it? Is it a new development?
Overall, an interesting story. The disjointed aspect of it gives it a personal feel, which I quite liked. I pointed out my questions, mostly just elaboration and some grammar. I hope you come back to the piece and are able to give it the super-polishing it deserves!
Best of luck for everything!
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Bookbreath
Josette Shakespeare
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08-06-2009, 05:42 PM
Nolori, thank you EVER so much for those points. I do have a lot of typos that I have yet to work out. Thank you for speeding up that process.
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Nolori
Everyone's Favorite Imaginary Fr...
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08-06-2009, 06:20 PM
No problem! I'm glad you found it all useful!
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Bookbreath
Josette Shakespeare
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08-10-2009, 09:06 PM
Im still trying to think of how to make this story part of something bigger. Any ideas?
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Nolori
Everyone's Favorite Imaginary Fr...
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08-11-2009, 12:00 AM
Not really. My suggestion, actually, is to do the same thing you do for writer's block, except to keep it strictly for these characters. It doesn't need to ultimately become part of this story, but getting to know the characters better may help to elaborate the story.
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Bookbreath
Josette Shakespeare
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08-11-2009, 12:53 AM
Ive been trying to up even my tips could help me right now.
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Nolori
Everyone's Favorite Imaginary Fr...
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08-17-2009, 04:51 AM
Well, it's a bit easier for me since I have a book of prompts that I can use. If you don't have one, I'd suggest the 100 prompts that you can find on this board. Things like that can serve as great exercises for character/plot development.
If you like music, you could go through your music and see what songs fit various characters. Make a play-list for them (if you have iTunes or WMP) and then try and write something small for each song. Don't use the words from the song; rather let the music work its way into the piece without being pointed to or hinted at.
Simple things like that can do wonders for both character and plot development if you're having trouble.
Hope it helps!
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Bookbreath
Josette Shakespeare
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02-23-2010, 04:00 PM
“Cold, dark, alone. Dripping noise coming from the left. Nothing but a thin t-shirt and a old pair of jeans. I’ve been down here for what I think is four days. I’m writing this on the far north wall with the black marker He threw at me when He put me down here. My arm is bleeding again. I don’t know what I did this time. He normally tells us as He drags us to the door. I can hear walking about me”. Yelling, He pushes open the door and a dark figure gets pushed in. Mark. He whimpers as he gets thrown down the 5 steep steps. I can hear Marks careful steps as he slowly walks to the south wall. That’s where he always sits. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am, why are we down here, and when are we getting out? Putting the cap back on my marker, I ask knowing the drill of Mark coming down after I’ve been down here for a while, “Mark, are you ok?”
“I think my head is bleeding, but I’ll be fine.” He crawled over to me.
“How long have I been in here?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him. He was three months older than me and came to this foster home about four weeks after I did. We knew this home wasn’t going to last long and that before too long we were going to be split up and sent to different homes, but we were going to try and stay together as long as we could. We were so close to being eighteen and out on our own that we were planning to live together when we got out of the system.
“Six days. I asked a question about you and got thrown down here. He was mad.” He sat up out of my grip and wrapped his arms around me. I had to feel cold as ice.
“You know better than to do that.” I stood up, pulling him up with me.
“I know but, I had to know if you were okay. Everyone said you were dead. I mean six days without food and water. We thought you were a goner.” He wrapped his arms around my hips pulling me close.
“That new girl Carol brought me food. He told her too I guess.” I put my hands on the nape of his neck. This wasn’t the first time we were down here together.
“That’s good.” He kissed me lightly on the lips. I moved him into the small crack of light coming from a crack in the door. Mark’s forehead was bleeding a bit. It was a clean cut, probably from His knife. The door opened slowly. It was the new girl again.
“Guys, come on. The workers are coming today. You guys have to go get cleaned up and changed. They will be here soon. Come on.” She carefully helped us out the big wooden door. This was our chance to get Him and Her arrested. We walked to Her bedroom where she was going to clean us and give us new clothes. We have tried so many times to get these “parents “ arrested. It’s not right to treat kids the way They do. Giving us one set of clothes to wear until the social workers come again and every time we do the smallest thing wrong, like ask a question, he would throw us in the basement or pull his knife on us.
“What ever happens today guys, remember, we love you.” She stared dressing my arm. She was nurse once, but got fired for steeling stuff. “Don’t tell them about the basement, don’t speak unless spoken too, don’t even look them in the eyes. They want to break our family apart.” She moved on to Mark’s head. “Here are your new clothss, Mark go jump in the shower, Gizmo is going to take a bath.”
She led me to the girl’s bathroom on the other side of the hall. She gave me three little cups, one shampoo, one conditioner, and one body wash. I nodded in gratitude and went in.
It took only five minutes to fill the tub because of this high pressure thing He put in. It was hardly warm at all, but I was grateful. As soon as I was done washing my hair and body there was a knock on the door. “Sweets, please hurry, we have guests.” It was Her. The workers must be here.
“Coming Mom.” That’s what we had to call Her when we had company. I drained to tub and started to dress. My new cloths smelled fresh from the store. They had plenty of nice cloths for us to wear, but they only let us when we, I mean They had company. My blonde/red hair was getting to my pants line in the back. I slowly brushed all the tangles out.
Once I had my new clothes on and my hair brushed into a high pony tail like my mom taught me before she died, I stepped out into the hallway. My shirt was pink. It was a polo. My new jeans were big, but weren’t all worn out like my old ones so I didn’t care. Mark came out of the boy’s bathroom right after I did. He was wearing a blue polo with kakis and new tennis. I just had flip flops.
“Looking good Gizmo,” he tasseled my bangs playfully. I hated it when he did that.
“Yeah, well at least I'll be comfy when we have to wear these cloths for a month until the next social workers come.” I shoved him lightly and he acted like it was hard and fake stumbled back.
“Excuse me young lady, what did you just say?” a voice from behind me asked. I didn’t know who it was.
“Oh, I’m sorry, You weren’t suppose to hear that.” I said franticly as I started backing up. If He or She knew I said that, I would be in the basement for the next month. I didn’t know how scared I was of them until it was time to turn them in.
“But I did, now please come with me.” The young looking man said to Mark and me. He could only be in his 20s. “Is there any place we can talk?” He stopped at the end of the hallway.
“The only place without a camera or a microphone would be here in the hallway or in the basement.” Mark said lasing his fingers with mine.
“Well how about we go to my car?” He said opening the door to the laundry room and through the back door to the little fenced in area where we go to run each day for five minutes.
“Can't go out that way,” I said stepping in front of him.
“And why not?” He asked moving my very thin body easily out of the way. “Oh my God, Kathie!” He yelled once he had the second door open. Kathie must be his co-worker because this girl I didn’t know came running down the hall.
“What is it James?” She stopped short when she saw the little nine foot by nine foot pen with the barbed wire around the top. There was skin hanging off in places where kids tried to escape. He always caught them and dragged them back. For some reason, our normal workers never went out the back door, or asked us about our cuts and bruises. The look on their faces was enough to know we were leaving this place.
__________________
Slowly getting to my feet, wishing it was a dream.- Josette Shakespeare
Last edited by Bookbreath; 07-19-2010 at 11:31 PM..
Reason: fixed!
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