Scratch

Fighting Jeff

     In a town named Rusty Lake, there was a boy named Jeff. Jeff was about twelve years old. He dwelled with his Dad and his Sister. His Mom died in a tragic car accident a few years ago.     
One day, when Jeff was walking to school with his best friend Sam, Sam noticed a snake on the road! It was about two feet long, if not, more! Jeff thought it was a Rattlesnake, but Sam thought it was a Musketeer. Musketeers were very common in the Rusty Lake area. They were normally about two feet long. They are very poisonous. The snake snapped at Jeff, and bolted away. “That was freaky!” Jeff yelped. “Yeah! We better get to school. Fast!” Sam screamed in a terrified voice.
When they arrived at school, they ran into Seaweed, the school bully. Jeff tried to pass him, but Seaweed grabbed him! He tried to escape, but Seaweed was way too burly. Jeff could feel Seaweed’s freezing cold hands on his pale neck. Then, as he heard the bell ringing, Seaweed rapidly scampered with Jeff and shoved him into a locker! Thank God it was Sam’s locker, or else he would have been late for Math. In Math class they did a pop quiz. Of course, Sam got 100% just like every other quiz, but Jeff wasn’t the sharpest knife in the droor. He only got around 60% on the quiz. 
Later that day, when they were having dinner, his Dad, Bob, asked, “So what time is your Basketball try-outs?”
Jeff replied, “Uh, 4’o clock tomorrow.”
“Okay, Suzie’s babysitter will have to take you then.”  His sister, Suzie, yelped with a content smile, “Yeah! Anna’s coming!”
“You like her, don’t you?” Bob said grinning.
“Yeah! She’s the best babysitter in the whole world!” Suzie replied.
That Saturday when Jeff woke up, he had eggs, bacon, and apple juice. After his devine breakfast, he bolted out the door. While he was rapidly running to school, he tripped over a rock and got a titanic bruise on his knee. After school he had one hour to get ready for the try-outs. When he arrived at the Middle School for the try-outs he noticed a horde of 8th graders, but not many 7th graders. That was good because Coach would only let four 7th graders on the team. When he got to the Basketball try-outs, he walked in and sat on the bench waiting for the try-outs to start.
Coach started talking, he said with a loud voice, “There’s going to be Multiple Scrimmages.” As Coach faced the biggest 8th grader, Seaweed, he smiled. It almost looked like an evil smile. Jeff was frightened about the smile, and Seaweed. When Coach blew the whistle, Jeff rapidly bolted off the bench. Coach explained, “Okay, we are now going to scrimmage. All of the 7th graders travel to the left half of the court and all the 8th graders journey to the right side of the court.” So, Jeff did what he was told. He wanted to be the point guard in the scrimmage, but Billy got the role.  Billy was really fast, but he can’t make his shots. They started playing for a little while and then Jeff got a little dizzy. He asked Coach if he could stay out for a couple of minutes, but Coach wouldn’t let him. Coach just yelled, “Come on! Get back in the game! You’re not tired already, are you?”
Jeff replied, “No, sir.”
“Okay, good. Nice job out there, Billy!” he said, staring into to Billy’s eyes. He got back in the game, but now he was feeling very dizzy, like he was sick with the flu. He just decided to bolt home. As he was running up the driveway, he saw Anna, the babysitter, coming to his house. He just ignored the car and ran up to his bedroom. He didn’t want to tell anybody about the dizziness, so, he didn’t.
Later that night Bob wondered, “Did you make the team, son?” Jeff didn’t answer. He was to busy thinking about the dizziness he had at the try-outs. That next morning, he was worried. He thought in his head, What is Coach gonna say to me? Will he be mad? But when he arrived at school, Coach was standing right in the doorway, and Jeff just walked right passed him. Coach didn’t even notice. After he walked in the doorway, he saw Sam. Sam couldn’t make it to the try-outs because he had to go with his whole family to San Francisco for the day.
Rusty Lake was right next to San Francisco. It was only about thirty minutes away. Sam ran up to him and whispered, “Dude! Where did you go? Coach got so mad at you!”
Jeff didn’t want to answer, but he said, “I wasn’t feeling good. Did he really get mad? I just saw him and he didn’t say anything to me.”
“Well, he did. He was yelling at the 7th graders and stuff. I thought he was about to expel you, man. You’re one lucky kid.”
“Okay, I got to get going.” And off he went to Gym class.     
When he got home from school, he noticed it was quiet in the house.
He yelped, “Hello! Anybody home?” No one answered. He wasn’t real scared, he just thought he would sit down and watch some TV before they come back. After a couple of hours went by, they still were not home. He looked at the clock and noticed it was six-thirty, just about the time they all ate dinner together. He got up from the couch and thought he would make his own dinner. The only problem was that he didn’t know how to make anything. As he franticly searched the fridge, he found some chicken nuggets that were microwavable.
“Perfect!” he yelled. He sat down and chomped on the chicken nuggets. After he finished, he decided to go take a nap to kill some time. When he woke up, it was nine-thirty! He bolted up off of the couch and ran up to his room. His room was the perfect thinking place. He thought about his dad and his sister. He wondered, “What had happened? Have they got in a car accident? Are they okay?” All those things going threw his mind and all of a sudden, he fainted! Right their in his own bedroom! He dreamed about a polar bear flying on a rainbow. It was the weirdest dream he had ever had. When he woke up, he found himself on the floor of his bedroom. He walked downstairs to the kitchen table, ready for breakfast, but breakfast wasn’t there like it always was. He thought to himself, “They’re still not here yet? I thought for sure they would be here by today!” and skipped to the kitchen to obtain some breakfast. He had to think really hard about what day it was. It’s hard remembering stuff when you have so much going on in your life. He gave up thinking and just went upstairs to see the calendar. He looked and it appeared to be gone. He didn’t pack lunch like he usually does, so he decided to just go with normal cafeteria food. When he arrived at school, no one was there, no cars or anything. He thought to himself, “What the heck?” and he scampered off home. He wanted to know what day it was, but how? Then he thought of the perfect idea! He was going go to the Library to ask somebody there! He bolted to the Library and when he arrived there, there was about five cars. He opened the door and carefully walked to the library worker. He slowly said, “Um, Miss.”
She said, “What my dear?” with a smile.
He replied, “Do you know what day it is?”
And she answered, “Well, its Sunday, honey.”
His jaw dropped wide open. He then thought himself, I was asleep for three days!
He said, “Thank you.” To the worker and headed out. As he headed out, he saw a lady talking to an old man. He listened carefully as she said, “Did you hear about the horrible accident?”
The old man replied, “Yeah, I heard it was a Father and a daughter heading to Dance practice.”
Then he walked closer on the conversation and heard the lady say, “Yeah, people are still talking about it and it was week ago! On Thursday!” He then began to sob, thinking it was his sister and his dad.  But after he was done, he remembered the woman say, “On Thursday.” That couldn’t have been because that was the day he noticed nobody was home and the lady say,  “A week ago.” That means that he was asleep for a week! He then bolted home, letting a few tears out because he felt lonely. He had to find his Dad and Sister. Where could they possibly be? He then traveled to Sam’s house to tell him what all had happened. He arrived at the door and began knocking. No body answered. He knocked a few more times, and finally Sam answered. Sam looked quite said, and said, “Hello, what do you want?” Jeff replied, “Uh, do you know where my Dad and Sister went? They are not home, and I looked everywhere around the town. “Dude, you didn’t hear? They crashed into a house on the way to Dance practice. They’re now in the hospital.” Jeff began weeping. He didn’t know what to do. He just felt like throwing up. After he was done sobbing, he bolted. He didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted to see his father again. After all that running, he began to get tired. He was about a mile away from his house. Right next to the Ice Cream Shop and the Campground. His wallet only had about twenty dollars in it, so he went and got himself an ice cream cone. He was starving. “Man, running gets you hungry.” Jeff muttered.

                                                 Not finished.....

Artistic-
Art, isn’t that a lovely name? I like to think of it as a magical name which means there is something special in the world for me and only me. I love these two sentences. Best of what you posted, in my opinion. (Though I did clean their grammar/eliminate some wordiness on them.
I am eleven, I’m French. My Mum and Dad died in a car crash when I was seven and now I live with my grandmother in England for the winter, and my Uncle and Aunt in Ireland for the summer. I love them both, but I prefer to live with my Grandmother; she is French like me. Uncle and Aunt are only half French and Half English. They are from my Dad's side and my Grandmother is from Mum’s side. Aunt and Uncle have three sons and a daughter, the sons are all younger than me and the daughter is older than me by three years which means she has no time for me. I don’t like playing with the sons because the tripped me and broke my leg once, the oldest is nine and he has no sense. Really confusing. Try not to use family lineage like this, and expect the reader to remember it. I know it's just the characters we will see a lot, but the children can be introduced without exposition.
Luckily, I go to school in England with Grandmother, not with Aunt and Uncle.
But there is something missing in my life, I think a left something behind, something important, something in France. Intriguing, though I suppose you may have let the main plot go in the first three paragraphs. 

I edited the grammar for this one without coloring it blue, but I think it's all correct now! The idea is good and the first two sentences I really liked, however, you go from that, to "I live with grammy and three kids and that kid hates me and yadda". Keep talking about your name, what you think it means for you, not just that you think it means something for you. I don't read something based solely on the first sentence. I read it if a couple paragraphs are good. Your first one is, if I saw "I prefer to live with my Grandma" first thing I would never read the book.

As a general note for every story idea, grammar control is what you really need to work on. Also, you rely a lot on exposition to start your stories which can make them a drag. I think I liked the idea of "Dreams" the best as well as just the writing in it. I couldn't really understand the idea of Artistic just by reading it, I assume the story may need to be longer to explain that.

soupoftomato wrote:

alldaykade28471 wrote:

Fighting Jeff

     [big story]

                                                 Not finished.....

Please don't repost.

I realize it exists.

I'm getting to them in order of when they were posted.

Okay, thanks! 

soupoftomato wrote:

1984. Coincidentally, that is the book I was reading when all of this took place.
    Reading and walking. That’s how I spent my free time.
Until, right before my eyes, a muscular man swiped the book out of my hands. I slowly looked up, somewhat startled. The man looked thirty-something, had a big mustache, and a cigar of equal size. [color-blue]love that description[/color] He looked as if he was in a position of authority, although I didn’t recognize him.
    I jumped up, confused, trying to retrieve the one thing that mattered to me. The man grinned slightly and lifted it up so it was out of my reach. I was now helpless.
    “Who are you, and why are you doing this?” I asked. I was surprised at myself; I wasn’t usually a talker. dialogue unrealistic. Maybe have him only ask "Who are you?'True. I'll change that.
    “Books are now illegal. Don’t you watch the news?”
    I shook my head. The man slowly walked away, still holding my book. I didn’t try to fight back, because something in my gut told me he was a good fighter. But more importantly, books- illegal? I shook my head in disbelief, but deep down I could tell the man spoke the truth.
    It was then that I heard lots of commotion down the next street. I sprinted down the street, worried. As I approached the sound, I noticed that the crowd was extremely dense.
    As I finally got to the street, I was surprised to see a German man with a long mustache on a small elevated space. The man carried a megaphone.
    I believed I’d seen this man somewhere before. I racked my brain. I remembered: at a dentist appointment, on a TV. Now I began to remember. This man was ruler of the world! This is a good introduction to the idea of an ultimate tyranny.
    You see, everyone in my time has become so focused on world peace that when this man came on TV and said he was ruler of the world, to avoid war, everyone let this go. This makes sense, though there would probably be a rebellionTrue, but I kind of wanted to make it far-fetched, to make it more interesting, like a full-world woodstock. :0
    The man spoke through the megaphone. “Hello, you may know me as K. I am now proud to announce that no more riots will occur, no more crime, no more wrongdoings altogether.”
    The crowd cheered wildly. These silly rioters must be arrested! (Nah it works)
    “Because starting today, it will be illegal to read. Anyone who is caught reading anything other than the K Post (which I will explain later) will face immediate execution. I have called for you today to end your temptation of reading. We will burn every last book you have for you for free, right here and right now. More ironic were the character to have been reading Fahrenheit 451True, but since (at least i think) 1984 is more well known, ill keep it.
    “About the K Post I mentioned earlier: the K Post will give you none other than the truth on everything you need to know about the world. You may have the first edition of the K Post free.” This more in line with 1984. The Department of Truth or whatever it was called
    This was an outrage! INDEED!
    I charged toward the stack of burning books. As I rummaged through them, I spotted 1984!
    I grasped 1984, carrying it like a parent protecting a child. My hands were burning, but I didn’t care about anything else at that time. My only thought was that I had to keep an artifact from a once free world; in fact, a book about a fear that this might happen. Great paragraphThanks!
    The flames eventually settled as I sat down in my living room. I was, well . . . not all right. My arms were in a fixed position for such a long time; it took me a while to remember the book. After my burned hands were strong enough to turn the pages of the book, I saw what I had feared the most: several blank pages, with a half-gone phrase here or there. I couldn’t read the book, that much was obvious. But, I did notice something that gave me hope.
    On the page I had left off on, I noticed nothing but the phrase “find help”. This influenced me to write to you. extremely confusing. I immediately started wondering if I had missed a letter-style opening. "Dear whatever"I wanted to insert SOME confusion, like you thought he was just narrating the story,but it's not true. I'll think about taking that out.
    The next day, I found a “K Post” folded up on the sidewalk. The main headline read, “ALL BOOKS ARE WRONG. THE K POST IS RIGHT.” WAR IS PEACE, FREEDOM IS SLAVERY, IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH!
    The sad part about this was that not only was this atrocious writing, but I knew many people had come to believe anything that had been put in front of them. Even the handful of people like me who hunger for justice will eventually end their ways, after this being the only thing they read for several years. K is brainwashing our world.
    By the time I read this again, I will probably not even understand the meaning behind my point. The world is now that screwed up. Last sentence of this section is waaay too informal compared to the rest of the piece. Maybe "Too much is wrong with the world."True. I'll change that.

Greg
_________________________
    Greg folded the piece of paper neatly. He placed the paper in a time capsule marked, “NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL MARCH 20, 2042.” He made a small hole in his back yard, and buried it there.
    Greg was executed a week later for reading the Bible behind his K Post, 2nd edition.
    On March 27, 2044, a man also named Greg opened the time capsule. He couldn’t understand a word written on the piece of paper. The paper was crumpled up and thrown in a fire. This section after everything else killed the mood of it all for me. I honestly think it will have a much better effect if you leave this off and change the last sentence of the main part.True. I'll change that.

EXTREMELY good, very similar to other dystopian books (including 1984), but unique and interesting as well.

thank you 

I wrote a few things in your edits to show you what i meant, etc.
I really appreciate your editing.

May I apply for a position in the shop please? My mother is an editor and I often correct people that I hear.
ex: Stand between her and I.(That's literally what my teacher said...  )

i haven't written in a while. Hm, I wonder what happened to that. But I feel like grabbing a pencil and paper right now. Be prepared for a lot of stuff to edit! (You have been warned... XD)

ROSMan wrote:

soupoftomato wrote:

1984. Coincidentally, that is the book I was reading when all of this took place.
    Reading and walking. That’s how I spent my free time.
Until, right before my eyes, a muscular man swiped the book out of my hands. I slowly looked up, somewhat startled. The man looked thirty-something, had a big mustache, and a cigar of equal size. [color-blue]love that description[/color] He looked as if he was in a position of authority, although I didn’t recognize him.
    I jumped up, confused, trying to retrieve the one thing that mattered to me. The man grinned slightly and lifted it up so it was out of my reach. I was now helpless.
    “Who are you, and why are you doing this?” I asked. I was surprised at myself; I wasn’t usually a talker. dialogue unrealistic. Maybe have him only ask "Who are you?'True. I'll change that.
    “Books are now illegal. Don’t you watch the news?”
    I shook my head. The man slowly walked away, still holding my book. I didn’t try to fight back, because something in my gut told me he was a good fighter. But more importantly, books- illegal? I shook my head in disbelief, but deep down I could tell the man spoke the truth.
    It was then that I heard lots of commotion down the next street. I sprinted down the street, worried. As I approached the sound, I noticed that the crowd was extremely dense.
    As I finally got to the street, I was surprised to see a German man with a long mustache on a small elevated space. The man carried a megaphone.
    I believed I’d seen this man somewhere before. I racked my brain. I remembered: at a dentist appointment, on a TV. Now I began to remember. This man was ruler of the world! This is a good introduction to the idea of an ultimate tyranny.
    You see, everyone in my time has become so focused on world peace that when this man came on TV and said he was ruler of the world, to avoid war, everyone let this go. This makes sense, though there would probably be a rebellionTrue, but I kind of wanted to make it far-fetched, to make it more interesting, like a full-world woodstock. :0
    The man spoke through the megaphone. “Hello, you may know me as K. I am now proud to announce that no more riots will occur, no more crime, no more wrongdoings altogether.”
    The crowd cheered wildly. These silly rioters must be arrested! (Nah it works)
    “Because starting today, it will be illegal to read. Anyone who is caught reading anything other than the K Post (which I will explain later) will face immediate execution. I have called for you today to end your temptation of reading. We will burn every last book you have for you for free, right here and right now. More ironic were the character to have been reading Fahrenheit 451True, but since (at least i think) 1984 is more well known, ill keep it.
    “About the K Post I mentioned earlier: the K Post will give you none other than the truth on everything you need to know about the world. You may have the first edition of the K Post free.” This more in line with 1984. The Department of Truth or whatever it was called
    This was an outrage! INDEED!
    I charged toward the stack of burning books. As I rummaged through them, I spotted 1984!
    I grasped 1984, carrying it like a parent protecting a child. My hands were burning, but I didn’t care about anything else at that time. My only thought was that I had to keep an artifact from a once free world; in fact, a book about a fear that this might happen. Great paragraphThanks!
    The flames eventually settled as I sat down in my living room. I was, well . . . not all right. My arms were in a fixed position for such a long time; it took me a while to remember the book. After my burned hands were strong enough to turn the pages of the book, I saw what I had feared the most: several blank pages, with a half-gone phrase here or there. I couldn’t read the book, that much was obvious. But, I did notice something that gave me hope.
    On the page I had left off on, I noticed nothing but the phrase “find help”. This influenced me to write to you. extremely confusing. I immediately started wondering if I had missed a letter-style opening. "Dear whatever"I wanted to insert SOME confusion, like you thought he was just narrating the story,but it's not true. I'll think about taking that out. Well, when I read a story, there's the whole suspension of disbleief. I don't read things and think "This is fictional" the whole time. I want to believe in a different reality for a bit so it shouldn't be a problem
    The next day, I found a “K Post” folded up on the sidewalk. The main headline read, “ALL BOOKS ARE WRONG. THE K POST IS RIGHT.” WAR IS PEACE, FREEDOM IS SLAVERY, IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH!
    The sad part about this was that not only was this atrocious writing, but I knew many people had come to believe anything that had been put in front of them. Even the handful of people like me who hunger for justice will eventually end their ways, after this being the only thing they read for several years. K is brainwashing our world.
    By the time I read this again, I will probably not even understand the meaning behind my point. The world is now that screwed up. Last sentence of this section is waaay too informal compared to the rest of the piece. Maybe "Too much is wrong with the world."True. I'll change that.

Greg
_________________________
    Greg folded the piece of paper neatly. He placed the paper in a time capsule marked, “NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL MARCH 20, 2042.” He made a small hole in his back yard, and buried it there.
    Greg was executed a week later for reading the Bible behind his K Post, 2nd edition.
    On March 27, 2044, a man also named Greg opened the time capsule. He couldn’t understand a word written on the piece of paper. The paper was crumpled up and thrown in a fire. This section after everything else killed the mood of it all for me. I honestly think it will have a much better effect if you leave this off and change the last sentence of the main part.True. I'll change that.

EXTREMELY good, very similar to other dystopian books (including 1984), but unique and interesting as well.

thank you 

I wrote a few things in your edits to show you what i meant, etc.
I really appreciate your editing.

Stalling new entries for a bit starting right now.

Let me catch up with ones already posted first, please.

ImagineIt wrote:

May I apply for a position in the shop please? My mother is an editor and I often correct people that I hear.

That's a bit rude isn't it?
I don't go around correcting every single grammatical mistake I see.
Also, sometimes you actually have to lax about the strict rules of English when writing.

ImagineIt wrote:

KitKaat wrote:

Sorry, I can't delete my previous post. I've edited a LOT since then, so here's the latest version.


I heard the bell ring for dinner. Sighing, I got up from the floor, where I was flicking through a comic, and exited my small room.  Life in the orphanage was comfortable, albeit tedious and dreary.  On weekdays and Saturdays, we have to get up at six, with half an hour to shower and dress. Following that, we eat breakfast in the dining room, with recreation for an hour afterwards, before classes until four, with short breaks in between.  Afterwards, there is two hours dedicated to homework and studying, recreation for a further half hour, dinner, then recreation again until lights out I just think bedtime sounds babyish at nine.  On Sunday, we have Mass at nine, then we are allowed out until three, in groups with adults.  No different, the same tedious, boring timetable, the one never changing thing in my life. As if much ever changed, as my life is just as regular as everyone else's here is.  
    I walked down the corridor, which was lined with religious pictures that hung on the walls.  A sign of hope, I guess, a signal to all the children here.  Most had known their parents, although many wished they didn’t.  I wish I knew mine.
    I reached the dining room, and took my seat.  Usually the seat beside me was empty, but now a boy the same age as me sat there. I sat down, eying him cautiously.  As soon as our food arrived, I jumpedI used 'tucked' for a reason   I like it.  xDin, hungry.
    “Good food, I gotta say.  Not as good as me ma’s was, before she started taking drugs.  Your ma's cooking is always the best.”
    I nodded, biting my lip. He doesn't realise, I told myself.  I looked at the boy. He seemed friendly, with a wide smile and a Dublin accent. He had ginger hair and blue eyes, with pale skin and freckles.  “I’m Martin, from Finglas,” he told me.
    “My name is Josh,” I told him
     "So, what's it like here?"
     "Boring.  You have to be desperate to find excitement, because if you want to get it, you need to step out of line."
     "Sure would ya everHey, thats often said in Ireland :L try?"
     I stared ahead of me.  "No. Not really."
     Martin left the conversation at that, much to my pleasure, and we finished the meal in silence.  
     I believed, foolishly, that things had returned to normality, until Martin spoke again.
     "So, what did ya do, to find a bit of craic?" he asked.
     "I never did anything.  Really," I added when I saw disbelief crawl across his face, "I only ever considered it, never tried anything."
      That was a lie.  For I certainly had tried, and I soon realised why people didn't often try.  Although, I suppose, I was just unlucky.

********************************************

I had tried not too long ago.  I wanted to discover more about my parents, find out if they were alive, and search for them if they were.
     I first tried to break into the office where all files are kept. I doubted I could find anything, but I supposed it was worth a try.  I dropped to my knees, pulled open the first drawer and began searching for my last name, Stewart.  I shifted through masses of files, before finally finding it.
      After fifteen minutes of vigorous searching through the files, I could only find my name.  Not even a birth date, as if I knew it. It so happened my mother,  seemingly conscientious that my jumper could be whipped off me, had wrote my name on a label.
      Deflated, I stood up and turned around, only to face the one person I certainly did not want to see, leaning against the doorframe.
      Her face narrow, aquiline nose, thin mouth in a puckered smile.  My new teacher had never particularly liked me, and it was only to her delight that she had caught me. I could only presume she was jealous of meWhy would a teacher be jealous? They may not be as clever. Trust me, it happens, I've experienced it, as my previous teacher had said I was an exceptionally talented and intelligent student.
      I ran, slipping through the narrow gap, my heart thudding frantically.  My feet flew as I pelted down the corridor and jumped down the last few steps of each flight.  I swung the door of my bedroom open and pulled it shut behind me, before flopping onto my bed, panting and exhausted.  I knew she'd get revenge resulting with me in trouble.
      I was right.  The next day, I was a minute late for class by the time I reached the classroom in the basement.  I had been searching for my missing maths book.  A small, dingy room, with a few posters and drawings in walls, it was situated on the lowest floor, and was a full eight flights down from my room.  It was no wonder I was late, but the teacher seemed oblivious to this.  
     "So, Josh, late, are we?" she asked, a hint of joy in her icy voice.  "Anything to do with venturing a few flights higher by accident?"
     *, how I hated this woman.  Anger seered inside me, as I clenched my fist, digging my nails into the palm of my hand.  "No," I replied in a strained tone.
     "Are you sure?" She emphasised the "sure" dramatically.  
     "Yes," I replied, trying to remain calm.
     "Detention then."
     I hissed through gritted teeth, feeling humiliated.  She smiled sweetly at me, annoying me further.  Frustrated, I took to my seat at the front of the class, and rummaged through my bag, pulling out my books and took out a pen.  I bit down sharply on the pen, hearing the crunch of plastic between my teeth as the top snapped.  
      I didn't pay any attention during class.  I was too furious to concentrate, although getting caught staring into space didn't improve my mood much.  I decided that staring at my book would be a better idea.  
     Eventually, when the class finished.  I stuffed my books in my bag, grabbed it and ran out the door.  Best to get my homework done while I can, I thought to myself.   
     Dinner passed wordlessly and I ate my dinner in a comfortable silence.  Afterwards, however, I became apprehensive as I left the table, and rather than heading up to my room, I walked downstairs towards the classroom, a feeling of despair in the pit of my stomach.  
      She was there, sitting at her desk, her forehead crinkled in concentration. She looked up; it took her a moment to recognize"Recognise" is the UK/Irish spelling.me, before she smiled. "Hello," she said politely.
      I was rather taken aback by her pleasant greeting.  I walked over to my desk, eying her precariously all the time.  I pulled out my chair and sat down, waiting to see what I had to do.  
     She placed a bundle of sheets on my desk, before turning and writing the words "I must not be late for class." on the board. 
     "Fill those pages, back and front." She handed me a pen.  "I think you might need this," she laughed.
     I was surprised by how pleasant she was to me.  Eventually I stammered out a thank you.  However, my luck was out and she ignored me.
     I started writing, trying to figure out her unnaturally friendly behaviour towards me.  I figured she must be in a good mood.  She was never this nice to anybody in the class.
     Minutes had passed before she spoke again.  "You were looking for information on your parents, weren't you?"
     I nodded slowly.
     "I remember them. I knew them well."
     I stared at her.  "How?" I asked, curious.
     "Your mother worked in the same school as me."
     "Do you know anything about them?"
     She shook her head. "I had to leave for a while, since I was unwell. By the time I returned, your mother had left.  She never came back."
      "What was her name?" 
      She shook her head, refusing to tell me.  "Just continue with your work."
      It was an hour before I had filled the two sheets. I handed them back wordlessly, and went to exit the room. 
     "You know, they would be proud of you."
     I turned around.  "Thanks," I mumbled, before running for it. 

********************************************

I suddenly shook my head. "It's a story for another time," I decided, wishing Martin would remain quiet so I could continue with my meal in peace. Thankfully, Martin took the hint and we finished our meals in silence. 
     After dessert, I quickly left the dining room, and headed back to my bedroom. There, I rummaged under my bed and pulled out a small ragged jumper. It was the jumper I was in when I was left on the door. By now, I had mesmerised my mother's writing, for I looked at the label every night. Only my name was legible; the writing beneath, presumably my address, was a black smudge. My mother or father probably had tried to rub it off. 
     My mother's writing was slanted towards the right. It was curved rather than pointed, and the J in my name was extravagantly spiralled. 
     After a few minutes of looking at the jumper, I shoved it back under my bed. I had over two hours of spare time left. Excellent time to re-read my entire comic collection, which was a mere nine comics. I rarely had enough money to buy anything with. 
     I found it difficult to go to sleep that night. I turned over continuously in my bed, burying my face in the pillows. My mind was fuzzy, and I couldn't relax. Eventually, at 2a.m. according to my alarm clock, I dozed into an uneasy and restless sleep. 
     I always had vivid dreams, filled with vibrant colours and loud noises, although they never made sense. However, tonight, my dreams were just flashing lights in dull colours. When I woke up, I found myself exhausted, as if I had never slept at all. 

You only need single spaces after periods and other punctuation marks

KitKaat wrote:

ImagineIt wrote:

KitKaat wrote:

Sorry, I can't delete my previous post. I've edited a LOT since then, so here's the latest version.


I heard the bell ring for dinner. Sighing, I got up from the floor, where I was flicking through a comic, and exited my small room.  Life in the orphanage was comfortable, albeit tedious and dreary.  On weekdays and Saturdays, we have to get up at six, with half an hour to shower and dress. Following that, we eat breakfast in the dining room, with recreation for an hour afterwards, before classes until four, with short breaks in between.  Afterwards, there is two hours dedicated to homework and studying, recreation for a further half hour, dinner, then recreation again until lights out I just think bedtime sounds babyish at nine.  On Sunday, we have Mass at nine, then we are allowed out until three, in groups with adults.  No different, the same tedious, boring timetable, the one never changing thing in my life. As if much ever changed, as my life is just as regular as everyone else's here is.  
    I walked down the corridor, which was lined with religious pictures that hung on the walls.  A sign of hope, I guess, a signal to all the children here.  Most had known their parents, although many wished they didn’t.  I wish I knew mine.
    I reached the dining room, and took my seat.  Usually the seat beside me was empty, but now a boy the same age as me sat there. I sat down, eying him cautiously.  As soon as our food arrived, I jumpedI used 'tucked' for a reason   I like it.  xDin, hungry.
    “Good food, I gotta say.  Not as good as me ma’s was, before she started taking drugs.  Your ma's cooking is always the best.”
    I nodded, biting my lip. He doesn't realise, I told myself.  I looked at the boy. He seemed friendly, with a wide smile and a Dublin accent. He had ginger hair and blue eyes, with pale skin and freckles.  “I’m Martin, from Finglas,” he told me.
    “My name is Josh,” I told him
     "So, what's it like here?"
     "Boring.  You have to be desperate to find excitement, because if you want to get it, you need to step out of line."
     "Sure would ya everHey, thats often said in Ireland :L try?"
     I stared ahead of me.  "No. Not really."
     Martin left the conversation at that, much to my pleasure, and we finished the meal in silence.  
     I believed, foolishly, that things had returned to normality, until Martin spoke again.
     "So, what did ya do, to find a bit of craic?" he asked.
     "I never did anything.  Really," I added when I saw disbelief crawl across his face, "I only ever considered it, never tried anything."
      That was a lie.  For I certainly had tried, and I soon realised why people didn't often try.  Although, I suppose, I was just unlucky.

********************************************

I had tried not too long ago.  I wanted to discover more about my parents, find out if they were alive, and search for them if they were.
     I first tried to break into the office where all files are kept. I doubted I could find anything, but I supposed it was worth a try.  I dropped to my knees, pulled open the first drawer and began searching for my last name, Stewart.  I shifted through masses of files, before finally finding it.
      After fifteen minutes of vigorous searching through the files, I could only find my name.  Not even a birth date, as if I knew it. It so happened my mother,  seemingly conscientious that my jumper could be whipped off me, had wrote my name on a label.
      Deflated, I stood up and turned around, only to face the one person I certainly did not want to see, leaning against the doorframe.
      Her face narrow, aquiline nose, thin mouth in a puckered smile.  My new teacher had never particularly liked me, and it was only to her delight that she had caught me. I could only presume she was jealous of meWhy would a teacher be jealous? They may not be as clever. Trust me, it happens, I've experienced it, as my previous teacher had said I was an exceptionally talented and intelligent student.
      I ran, slipping through the narrow gap, my heart thudding frantically.  My feet flew as I pelted down the corridor and jumped down the last few steps of each flight.  I swung the door of my bedroom open and pulled it shut behind me, before flopping onto my bed, panting and exhausted.  I knew she'd get revenge resulting with me in trouble.
      I was right.  The next day, I was a minute late for class by the time I reached the classroom in the basement.  I had been searching for my missing maths book.  A small, dingy room, with a few posters and drawings in walls, it was situated on the lowest floor, and was a full eight flights down from my room.  It was no wonder I was late, but the teacher seemed oblivious to this.  
     "So, Josh, late, are we?" she asked, a hint of joy in her icy voice.  "Anything to do with venturing a few flights higher by accident?"
     *, how I hated this woman.  Anger seered inside me, as I clenched my fist, digging my nails into the palm of my hand.  "No," I replied in a strained tone.
     "Are you sure?" She emphasised the "sure" dramatically.  
     "Yes," I replied, trying to remain calm.
     "Detention then."
     I hissed through gritted teeth, feeling humiliated.  She smiled sweetly at me, annoying me further.  Frustrated, I took to my seat at the front of the class, and rummaged through my bag, pulling out my books and took out a pen.  I bit down sharply on the pen, hearing the crunch of plastic between my teeth as the top snapped.  
      I didn't pay any attention during class.  I was too furious to concentrate, although getting caught staring into space didn't improve my mood much.  I decided that staring at my book would be a better idea.  
     Eventually, when the class finished.  I stuffed my books in my bag, grabbed it and ran out the door.  Best to get my homework done while I can, I thought to myself.   
     Dinner passed wordlessly and I ate my dinner in a comfortable silence.  Afterwards, however, I became apprehensive as I left the table, and rather than heading up to my room, I walked downstairs towards the classroom, a feeling of despair in the pit of my stomach.  
      She was there, sitting at her desk, her forehead crinkled in concentration. She looked up; it took her a moment to recognize"Recognise" is the UK/Irish spelling.me, before she smiled. "Hello," she said politely.
      I was rather taken aback by her pleasant greeting.  I walked over to my desk, eying her precariously all the time.  I pulled out my chair and sat down, waiting to see what I had to do.  
     She placed a bundle of sheets on my desk, before turning and writing the words "I must not be late for class." on the board. 
     "Fill those pages, back and front." She handed me a pen.  "I think you might need this," she laughed.
     I was surprised by how pleasant she was to me.  Eventually I stammered out a thank you.  However, my luck was out and she ignored me.
     I started writing, trying to figure out her unnaturally friendly behaviour towards me.  I figured she must be in a good mood.  She was never this nice to anybody in the class.
     Minutes had passed before she spoke again.  "You were looking for information on your parents, weren't you?"
     I nodded slowly.
     "I remember them. I knew them well."
     I stared at her.  "How?" I asked, curious.
     "Your mother worked in the same school as me."
     "Do you know anything about them?"
     She shook her head. "I had to leave for a while, since I was unwell. By the time I returned, your mother had left.  She never came back."
      "What was her name?" 
      She shook her head, refusing to tell me.  "Just continue with your work."
      It was an hour before I had filled the two sheets. I handed them back wordlessly, and went to exit the room. 
     "You know, they would be proud of you."
     I turned around.  "Thanks," I mumbled, before running for it. 

********************************************

I suddenly shook my head. "It's a story for another time," I decided, wishing Martin would remain quiet so I could continue with my meal in peace. Thankfully, Martin took the hint and we finished our meals in silence. 
     After dessert, I quickly left the dining room, and headed back to my bedroom. There, I rummaged under my bed and pulled out a small ragged jumper. It was the jumper I was in when I was left on the door. By now, I had mesmerised my mother's writing, for I looked at the label every night. Only my name was legible; the writing beneath, presumably my address, was a black smudge. My mother or father probably had tried to rub it off. 
     My mother's writing was slanted towards the right. It was curved rather than pointed, and the J in my name was extravagantly spiralled. 
     After a few minutes of looking at the jumper, I shoved it back under my bed. I had over two hours of spare time left. Excellent time to re-read my entire comic collection, which was a mere nine comics. I rarely had enough money to buy anything with. 
     I found it difficult to go to sleep that night. I turned over continuously in my bed, burying my face in the pillows. My mind was fuzzy, and I couldn't relax. Eventually, at 2a.m. according to my alarm clock, I dozed into an uneasy and restless sleep. 
     I always had vivid dreams, filled with vibrant colours and loud noises, although they never made sense. However, tonight, my dreams were just flashing lights in dull colours. When I woke up, I found myself exhausted, as if I had never slept at all. 

You only need single spaces after periods and other punctuation marks

If you don't like it, then why didn't you just use your old version? :?

ImagineIt wrote:

KitKaat wrote:

ImagineIt wrote:

You only need single spaces after periods and other punctuation marks

If you don't like it, then why didn't you just use your old version? :?

First, reviewing is part of the package and you didn't give much in way of it. I assume the person was expecting some but just ended up with what you offered. (Looking back on it, you gave no actual opinions on the work)

Second, more extensive editing too. It's not just if you see an actual grammar/spelling mistake but if something is worded weird, wordy, or not effective enough.

Is mine coming up?