May I ask why my review was unhelpful?
Short Story / Local tragedy (Analysis)
I was walking through the winter evening gloom on my way to the final pub quiz before demolition, re-building, and a pristine new bar / pizzeria / hangout hell hole for young media whores. A place for souless music and unrecognizable faces. No talk, just noise. And is it for this, i am to meet my team and other deadbeat loser? This special place that blends curses with the junkie’s song, and from seedy shades and spiteful halls, and from shops and doorways sens screams that pollute my dreams. Where Church street crosses over the vile Grove, near the safety of home, did these dirty streets, with ceaseless sirens through night and day, infect my thoughts? Among the fearful dwellings of broken dreams, darkness pushes me into old Hermit’s Cave.
We come third; we always come third. Randolph Hipster and Eva Brown Shower take first place. Their team consists of two middle aged men, who reputidely find shelter in one another’s flesh. I know better though; their relationship is based on cynacism and humour. Anything else is intrusive. But they do love each other, and so nothing is repulsive.
They take the whiskey, and we take the cheap bottle of wine. The Pub Closes. Down trodden we most certainly are. Unable to say our final goodbyes, we move to a late night bar across the road. There are flashing blue lights, and uniforms of all kinds. On the fifth floor, above the bar, a young man is leaning out of the window, with his back to the road. He turns his head for one final look at this vision of hell. He leans backwards, and lets himself fall. To die, alone, on the streets of Camberwell.
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I loved this, it drew me right in, I would not change a thing.
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Not bad. In fact, the ending (the suicide, or accident?) makes so much sense in this memorial to the death of the pub.
Proofreading notes:
souless = soulless
loser = losers ?
sens (typo?)
middle aged men = middle-aged
reputidely = reputedly ?
one another (Should be used for three or more person exclusively.)
cynacism = cynicism
Down trodden = Downtrodden
I am compelled to say : SPELL CHECK. Moving on. I was not expecting the suicide. Interesting twist, I though the tragedy was going to be the building of your “hell hole” I think you could expand a bit in the first paragraph as your words seem to weave about not connected to anything.
Well you mispelled a lot of words, the grammar is bad to the point that I’m not really sure what you are trying to say. I’m also not sure what the story is about, it seems like some sort of intro, or prologue to something else… not a short story at all. You are all over the place with this piece, I just don’t understand what you are trying to get across. I’d like a character we can focus on, or something to focus on…
Keep writing and getting better!
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