exactly! i new it was missing something! thank you!
Young Adult / Prosper Chapter 1 (Analysis)
CH1
I hear her. She doesn’t know, but I can hear and feel every fiber of her being, as she shakes with grief and sadness. I can’t see her of course, being about two miles north of her. Her screams throb in my brain and my heart is heavy in my chest. I’m not sure why she is crying and so depressed. I have never been good at understanding why people feel what they feel, it is hard to tell when so many different things can bring up the same emotion, and I can only feel what they are feeling in that moment.
I watched my legs dangling off the window ledge about twenty feet off the ground. I concentrated less on the woman and her sorrow, letting her screams and sobs become just a thrumming in the back of my mind, my heart lightened a little. The wind blew my hair about, blocking my view for a moment. As I laid my head against the window frame I closed my eyes. It was always hard for me to sleep, when I sleep my mind is open to all the other emotions around me. I knew if I slept at this very moment, the woman’s screams and sobs would come back full force and the nightmare would begin again. My mother would be screaming and sobbing….
I opened my eyes quickly. That was not something I wanted to think about yet again. The woman’s screams had grown a fraction of a notch higher, I pushed it back. My heart had grown heavy again, this time it was a reaction from my own feelings. I hated thinking about that night. I looked up at the stars. Each tiny bright speck seemed so crystal clear. My Dad had told me that each star was someone looking down at their loved ones below. I kept my eyes on the brightest star, I whispered goodnight, for that star was my mother, looking down on me. The one to it right, was my father. I saluted to him, as I did when I was a toddler. I leaned back against the window frame once more, and stared at those two bright stars.
All is black. I’m running up the stairs, as I was instructed. A Huge bang rings through the house as if someone tried to drive through it. I assumed it was the door. Men in dark cloaks could be seen down the stairs from where I hid.
“where is the child!”
“you will never have my son!” My mother’s screams filled my head and my heart raced, keeping time with hers. Hers was the only I could hear because I was the closest to her emotionally, except…where was my father? I realized at that very instant that I could not feel him anywhere. He was gone.
“Where is he Isabella!? Don’t make me kill you too!” This mans voice was harsh and irritated. He knew my mother.
She was crying, sobbing. Her pure sadness sank into every pore of my being, consumed every part of me. My heart seemed to drop to my stomach. My own sadness mixed with hers. I closed my eyes. Another bang rang out. My breathing stopped. Images of my mother as a child, in school, at home, with my dad, their wedding, and my birth all flashed quickly through my mind. My mother was dying. These were her memories flooding into my brain. A small man with wispy white hair flashed across then vanished, another memory of me, A gorgeous blond couple, my father and the older man again flashed through. A small boy with brown hair and big brown eyes, playing with a younger version of myself, the cloaked men storming through stabbing my father and instantly killing him, and a picture of me running up the stairs. The pictures faded, and my breathing stopped completely.
“The boy is up the stairs!” A woman’s voice.
So I wasn’t the only one who watched as my mother accounted for all her memories. I could barely move. I climbed out from under the desk and climbed up onto it. The window hung about twenty feet off the ground, I jumped into the darkness.
My eyes shot open. I was gasping for air. I hated that dream. I was lying on cool wood. I guess I had slid from the window ledge to the desk beneath it. My head hurt, a large bump was forming in the back. I must have hit my head on the desk as well. The same desk I hid under when I was twelve. Five years later I couldn’t fit if I tried. Not that I’m heavy or anything, on the contrary, I’m almost too thin for lack of food, It is because of my height, a grand 6ft 2inches, taller then my dad. I smiled. He always told me I’d grow to be taller than he. I walked down the creaky steps. Skipping the second to the bottom, this one was missing. I walked out the door and began my morning routine.
I walked around to the back of the house which faced away from the city. I knelt down by two crosses, one for my mother and one for my father. Their bodies lay under the hard earth. I sat their, planning how I would eat this morning. I would have to eat in the city today. My stash of food had run dry the day before. I stood up and dusted the knees of my pants and walked around to the front of the house. The sun was just coming up. The horizon still had a tint of pink. I quickly begin picking my way through the shrubs and trees. The hill was slick with pine needles and maple leaves. A pinecone lay here and there. There was a steep part in the hill I learned to jump over. I jumped easily and landed flat on my feet. Up ahead was the path that would lead me to the city.
I walked for what seemed like forever, and finally came to the edge of the forest, where the city began. I could feel the rush of emotions run through my body. They had been gradually getting stronger as I walked closer to the city. My head hurt, but I tried my best to control it. At times I was able to control the feelings I felt, only feeling them when I came into physical contact with someone. It was harder this morning, always was when I had the nightmare before. My mother used to tell me that you cant have the same exact dream twice, that’s how she got me to go t sleep after a bad dream, she was wrong.
I walked through the ally keeping my mind focused on the small grocery list in my head.
Bread,
Water,
And cheese,
I absolutely love cheese.
Luckily the little City of Sidara has most of their groceries outside on stands. The streets in Sidara are all brick or cobble stone. The houses look like battered cooks, after a thanksgiving church lunchion. All sagged over with straw like hair stickin out from every which way. The doors hung open like tired mouths and the windows sat slightly open like tired eyes. Many of the houses where borded however. The little town was a pretty sad place. And the people were mostly sad too.
The bread man doesn’t like me much. I really don’t blame him. Out of all the things on my small list his was the most expensive. There for, I stole it. He is a fat man, just like many of his loafs. Then again, you are what you eat…or so they say. He has this black mustache that quivers when he yells at me from down the road. He spits a lot too, I feel sorry for those who purchase bread after I “barrow” my loaf, they have to be covered in spit.
The water woman is wretched too. I call her the water woman because she leaves her window open and it is right over her sink. She usually has pots on her counter as well, so when I was younger I barrowed a pot that I refill every so often. Unfortunately today, the first time in many years, I forgot my pot. She’s wretched because she comes at me with the broom if she sees me. You think she would just close her window.
Today the bread man didn’t see me as I walked by and snagged a loaf. I wasn’t going to tease him today. I could feel his the rare happy and confident feelings today, why spoil them? I wasn’t looking forward to the water woman. Today, if I didn’t lose count, is Wednesday. She tends to garden every Wednesday. Just up the way from the bread man, her little house sits. Im not exactly sure what she gardens. Her house is a little more pushed back then the others, and not as close as the others that sat crammed together, but it was all dirt. I stop in front of her house. I can feel her dreary emotions. I walk quietly to her still open window, daft woman. She must be in the back. I leap onto the window seal. Gently pick up a pot and quietly turn on the faucet. The faucet lets off an enormous squeal. I hear her run from the back of the house.
Now picture this:
A 6ft 2” gangly, barefooted,boy, dressed in rags. Bent double in a kitchen window with a loaf of bread sticking out from his back pocket. In his hands is a big pot that he is desperately trying to fill. Now, past his shoulder you see an angry woman with a broom.
Wish I had seen the woman with the broom. She hit my back as hard as she could with that broom! I went sprawling into the sink. I stepped in my pot. I hopped out of the sink and grabbed the pot. I headed toward the front door. The crazy twit was trying to fit herself in through the window after me. I felt sorry for the window, She is a large woman!
I run out the door, my feet soaked. The water in the pot is splashing about. I head off toward my next stop. The Cheese lady, also known as Bernice.
Bernice was my favorite person in the world, the closest thing I had to a friend. My head did not hurt when I was around her, her feelings did not try and overwhelm my own and she was genuinely nice. And she gave me cheese.
Her little cheese and dairy shop is in between the Barber and the Butcher. Just in case you ever decide to stop by, I would not suggest talking to Herbert, the Barber. I swear he’s killed someone. Anyway, her little shop is the cleanest shop in Sidara, which by all means was not very clean. She tried her best however.
I walk in and Bernice greats me with a smile. She instantly takes my pot and puts it in the fridge with the cheese. She says that cooling the water is better, and hands me a chunk of cheese. I would never steel from this woman, so just as every other time I came in, I bring out what coins I have left from my parents, and just as always she refuses them. She has always offered me water but I knew I would never have enough money to pay for the cheese and the water, and I figured the water woman would miss me.
Bernice is maybe 30. About 13 years my senior. She’s a scrawny woman with brown hair that she throws into a bun and lets be messy. She wears an apron, that I assume was white at one time, I’ve never asked. The apron is some cream color now. I still had my emotion wall up, but I could feel the light thrum of her calmness.
“Prosper, can you help me lift this canister of milk? I need to cream it.”
“Of Course Bernice.”
That’s about as deep as our conversations would go. That and the latest gossip.
I help her with the canister and she gets my pot and hands me another chunk of cheese. If I help her around the shop she always throws in a little extra. I smile, wave good bye and walk out with a pot of water and bread and cheese in my back pockets. On my way back I have to be careful of the bread man. I have to walk on the other side of brick road. After passing the Bread man I made my way up the hill and back into the forest. I stopped to rest every so often, the place where Water Woman got my back with that filthy broom was still sore. By the time I got to the house I could feel night approaching.
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Tazinko reviewed Version 1 -
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kizadeth reviewed Version 1 -
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sethers reviewed Version 1 -
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I understand it’s written in first person, but I still felt like you started too many sentences with “I”. I… followed by I… it takes away from the overall flow of the story.
I liked the chapter, but I think you still need to clean it up a bit (a spelling, grammar, and sentence structure run through is needed).
You kept me entertained which was good but your story still needs a coat or two of polish.
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JayCee reviewed Version 1 -
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I see that you say this is a rough draft of your fist chapter. i would assume that this means you are still in the process of honing this character up a bit. I will tell you what i processed from reading and that may help you develop. He seems like a young man or older teen, maybe homeless for lack of parents. But why did his parents pass? You could go into some detail on this, it would be a great focus point for a reader to feel more empathy. I see he is adept at finding (stealing) food when need be. And has suffered for it from the towns merchants. I wasn’t clear on the time period or place. That could be defined more to make a stronger connection for the reader also. Lastly, you do have some spelling errors throughout. Overall, it seems to be a framework for a really deep character.
music1358 reviewed Version 1 -
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I like this. The story is good, there is fairly clear characterisation and you have a good grasp of description. I think it is still a little cluttered. Try and trim it down a little. Try and vary the ways you describe someone or something. The ending needs to be a little more suspenseful. You want the reader to ache to see what happens next. Could there be some action, event or talk that drives into the next chapter? Good overall though. I’d like to see where this goes.
FrakKevin reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a good rough draft but plot wise make sure something happens. I like how you incorperated the detail into story. It was like a tour through the setting along with needed info. The dream or flash back didn’t make me wanna read more. So when it comes to the ending you need a good cliff hanger. This just gives me an idea of what this might be. Grammar is fine
Megan_Solari reviewed Version 1 -
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A very nice, gripping opening! Your sentences are very much to the point and move the story along, setting a quick pace that kept me wanting to read, which is your ultimate goal.
On that note, the detail kind of lulls past that up until Prosper makes it into Sidara. I’m not going to tell you what you should add, as this is your piece and not mine, but I would suggest adding some extra detail of some kind. Perhaps location/scenery detail, if I may make a suggestion.
Your first two examples of dialog need to be capitalized. Other than that, I think this is very well written and could probably be put up for some polishing, if you’re finished that is.
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