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He woke up to a mysterious voice full of anger and hate. He felt unstable with a sense of confusion. His eyes burned with the light that he had so longed to see, the walls and the darkness to much to bear from his past experiences. He fell to the floor still crippled and tired.
A sound on the bars, a long rattle of a piece of metal had just reached his ears and brought him back into the world. Two pairs of boots approached him, then a body had bent forward only to place a tray full of food at his feet. He could smell the gravel floor and his mouldy food and dirty water, the odours flew up his nose only to make him cough. he did not know that he had been living in a foreign place, unknown to him. He had been living in a hell.
He sat up and took into view his surroundings witch he identified with his weary eyes. He was confined in a small cell, to small to stand up with not alot of space. Nowhere to move with a bucket in the corner and no sheets to lie on. He compared himself to his surroundings, the contrast of colours staring him right in the face. Orange boiler suit, cuffed and scared. The wind just suddenly took him into a realisation of where he was. He froze, scared, nervous and confused. He knew he had to survive.
A gap between the wall which had obviously not been repaired was where he looked for his freedom. It was the right size to get your hand through. Nothing their he glared across his cell. looking for a solution to a problem which had just crossed his mind. He dragged himself to the front of his cell, his bony knees scraping against the rough stones and ragged ground. He shouted for help but none came. His voice echoed through the room. The only thing that he could see was a wall in front of him, his wall to freedom.
He noticed the rust on the cell joints, he was desperate. Anything he would try, or anything that entered his head he would do. He would spot ever minute detail in the cell and ask for a solution. The only sound answering him was a faint whistling in the background. Alone with only a tray full of food and dirty water he took a deep breath and took his meal and drink. He had needs and wantings that had never been taken away from him, he had to cope.
He heard a rough, deep voice feeding his mind wrong signals, it was'nt a dream. He arose with a shock and confusion. He did not understand the man that was using threatening behaviour towards him. He was dragged to a unusual space which his eyes did not recognise. A burst of freedom arrived and formed into his mind. Confused, their were now 3 men surrounding him with vicious minds, he knew this by their body language that formed towards him. He pleaded for his life, an innocent man stole from the world just because of his nationality. Innocence means nothing in a murderers mind.....
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Bare with me as this is my first try at a story.
A sound on the bars, a long rattle of a piece of metal had just reached his ears and brought him back into the world. Two pairs of boots approached him, then a body had bent forward only to place a tray full of food at his feet. He could smell the gravel floor and his mouldy food and dirty water, the odours flew up his nose only to make him cough. he did not know that he had been living in a foreign place, unknown to him. He had been living in a hell.
He sat up and took into view his surroundings witch he identified with his weary eyes. He was confined in a small cell, to small to stand up with not alot of space. Nowhere to move with a bucket in the corner and no sheets to lie on. He compared himself to his surroundings, the contrast of colours staring him right in the face. Orange boiler suit, cuffed and scared. The wind just suddenly took him into a realisation of where he was. He froze, scared, nervous and confused. He knew he had to survive.
A gap between the wall which had obviously not been repaired was where he looked for his freedom. It was the right size to get your hand through. Nothing their he glared across his cell. looking for a solution to a problem which had just crossed his mind. He dragged himself to the front of his cell, his bony knees scraping against the rough stones and ragged ground. He shouted for help but none came. His voice echoed through the room. The only thing that he could see was a wall in front of him, his wall to freedom.
He noticed the rust on the cell joints, he was desperate. Anything he would try, or anything that entered his head he would do. He would spot ever minute detail in the cell and ask for a solution. The only sound answering him was a faint whistling in the background. Alone with only a tray full of food and dirty water he took a deep breath and took his meal and drink. He had needs and wantings that had never been taken away from him, he had to cope.
He heard a rough, deep voice feeding his mind wrong signals, it was'nt a dream. He arose with a shock and confusion. He did not understand the man that was using threatening behaviour towards him. He was dragged to a unusual space which his eyes did not recognise. A burst of freedom arrived and formed into his mind. Confused, their were now 3 men surrounding him with vicious minds, he knew this by their body language that formed towards him. He pleaded for his life, an innocent man stole from the world just because of his nationality. Innocence means nothing in a murderers mind.....
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Bare with me as this is my first try at a story.
For a first ever try, that was pretty decent. The main problem was all the 'He' sentances - but overall, I liked it. Don't give up.
'Tis the same with me Squall, we all have our strengths/weaknesses and we can all improve.
Personally, I think I'm good at descriptive writing, but by God I couldn't develop a plot to save my sad little life.
Actually, I think I'm going to write a story. Yes, I will. Thank you Squall for inspiring me.
See y'all in about 45 minutes.
Personally, I think I'm good at descriptive writing, but by God I couldn't develop a plot to save my sad little life.
Actually, I think I'm going to write a story. Yes, I will. Thank you Squall for inspiring me.
See y'all in about 45 minutes.
Yeah, thanks for the comments. I never really wanted to give the guy a name but will remember comments made. I'll hopefull improve with a few more attempts and reading a few others.
Yeah that could have been improved, also I would run a spell check through it. Quite an impressive first attempt though.
Ashman wrote:
> - Too many sentences started with "He". In your next story
> try to vary it up a bit and your final outcome will seem instantly
> more professional.
That was why I didn't read it all.
> - Too many sentences started with "He". In your next story
> try to vary it up a bit and your final outcome will seem instantly
> more professional.
That was why I didn't read it all.
Hmmm, for your first attempt at a story that's not bad at all.
The Good
- A couple of really good thought-provoking sentences. One was the last line, and one was a little earlier in the story; they stood out. It's the sort of thing I really like to see.
- Through some fine describing, you really got the feeling of this guy's desperation. Again, good.
The Bad
- The general concept was one that could've worked; yet I think you spent a little too much time describing the wall. I know it was the topic, but it wasn't a definite requirement.
- Too many sentences started with "He". In your next story try to vary it up a bit and your final outcome will seem instantly more professional.
- Grammar errors; "wasn't" = "was'nt", a few capital letters missed and such. Not a big deal but I thought it was worth mentioning.
- I think I remember a brief tense change, but reading back I can't be sure.
* * * * * * * * *
Anyway, don't take what I've said as an attack in any way; for your first SSC entry it was nicely done and certainly shows potential. Just read a few other stories of the same topic, and go back to the drawing board. Every time you write a story it generally tends to get better and better.
The Good
- A couple of really good thought-provoking sentences. One was the last line, and one was a little earlier in the story; they stood out. It's the sort of thing I really like to see.
- Through some fine describing, you really got the feeling of this guy's desperation. Again, good.
The Bad
- The general concept was one that could've worked; yet I think you spent a little too much time describing the wall. I know it was the topic, but it wasn't a definite requirement.
- Too many sentences started with "He". In your next story try to vary it up a bit and your final outcome will seem instantly more professional.
- Grammar errors; "wasn't" = "was'nt", a few capital letters missed and such. Not a big deal but I thought it was worth mentioning.
- I think I remember a brief tense change, but reading back I can't be sure.
* * * * * * * * *
Anyway, don't take what I've said as an attack in any way; for your first SSC entry it was nicely done and certainly shows potential. Just read a few other stories of the same topic, and go back to the drawing board. Every time you write a story it generally tends to get better and better.
Not bad Squall
There's a bit of work to do with your writing, but overall I thought that was very good for a first try.
There's a bit of work to do with your writing, but overall I thought that was very good for a first try.
He woke up to a mysterious voice full of anger and hate. He felt unstable with a sense of confusion. His eyes burned with the light that he had so longed to see, the walls and the darkness to much to bear from his past experiences. He fell to the floor still crippled and tired.
A sound on the bars, a long rattle of a piece of metal had just reached his ears and brought him back into the world. Two pairs of boots approached him, then a body had bent forward only to place a tray full of food at his feet. He could smell the gravel floor and his mouldy food and dirty water, the odours flew up his nose only to make him cough. he did not know that he had been living in a foreign place, unknown to him. He had been living in a hell.
He sat up and took into view his surroundings witch he identified with his weary eyes. He was confined in a small cell, to small to stand up with not alot of space. Nowhere to move with a bucket in the corner and no sheets to lie on. He compared himself to his surroundings, the contrast of colours staring him right in the face. Orange boiler suit, cuffed and scared. The wind just suddenly took him into a realisation of where he was. He froze, scared, nervous and confused. He knew he had to survive.
A gap between the wall which had obviously not been repaired was where he looked for his freedom. It was the right size to get your hand through. Nothing their he glared across his cell. looking for a solution to a problem which had just crossed his mind. He dragged himself to the front of his cell, his bony knees scraping against the rough stones and ragged ground. He shouted for help but none came. His voice echoed through the room. The only thing that he could see was a wall in front of him, his wall to freedom.
He noticed the rust on the cell joints, he was desperate. Anything he would try, or anything that entered his head he would do. He would spot ever minute detail in the cell and ask for a solution. The only sound answering him was a faint whistling in the background. Alone with only a tray full of food and dirty water he took a deep breath and took his meal and drink. He had needs and wantings that had never been taken away from him, he had to cope.
He heard a rough, deep voice feeding his mind wrong signals, it was'nt a dream. He arose with a shock and confusion. He did not understand the man that was using threatening behaviour towards him. He was dragged to a unusual space which his eyes did not recognise. A burst of freedom arrived and formed into his mind. Confused, their were now 3 men surrounding him with vicious minds, he knew this by their body language that formed towards him. He pleaded for his life, an innocent man stole from the world just because of his nationality. Innocence means nothing in a murderers mind.....
----------------------------------------------------
Bare with me as this is my first try at a story.
A sound on the bars, a long rattle of a piece of metal had just reached his ears and brought him back into the world. Two pairs of boots approached him, then a body had bent forward only to place a tray full of food at his feet. He could smell the gravel floor and his mouldy food and dirty water, the odours flew up his nose only to make him cough. he did not know that he had been living in a foreign place, unknown to him. He had been living in a hell.
He sat up and took into view his surroundings witch he identified with his weary eyes. He was confined in a small cell, to small to stand up with not alot of space. Nowhere to move with a bucket in the corner and no sheets to lie on. He compared himself to his surroundings, the contrast of colours staring him right in the face. Orange boiler suit, cuffed and scared. The wind just suddenly took him into a realisation of where he was. He froze, scared, nervous and confused. He knew he had to survive.
A gap between the wall which had obviously not been repaired was where he looked for his freedom. It was the right size to get your hand through. Nothing their he glared across his cell. looking for a solution to a problem which had just crossed his mind. He dragged himself to the front of his cell, his bony knees scraping against the rough stones and ragged ground. He shouted for help but none came. His voice echoed through the room. The only thing that he could see was a wall in front of him, his wall to freedom.
He noticed the rust on the cell joints, he was desperate. Anything he would try, or anything that entered his head he would do. He would spot ever minute detail in the cell and ask for a solution. The only sound answering him was a faint whistling in the background. Alone with only a tray full of food and dirty water he took a deep breath and took his meal and drink. He had needs and wantings that had never been taken away from him, he had to cope.
He heard a rough, deep voice feeding his mind wrong signals, it was'nt a dream. He arose with a shock and confusion. He did not understand the man that was using threatening behaviour towards him. He was dragged to a unusual space which his eyes did not recognise. A burst of freedom arrived and formed into his mind. Confused, their were now 3 men surrounding him with vicious minds, he knew this by their body language that formed towards him. He pleaded for his life, an innocent man stole from the world just because of his nationality. Innocence means nothing in a murderers mind.....
----------------------------------------------------
Bare with me as this is my first try at a story.