Young Writers Society

The moon was hiding that night, just as it was supposed to at this time in its cycle. The moon knew; it knew what it was supposed to do and when it was supposed to do it. It didn't have to be yelled at or hit- the moon was the moon. It knew when to glow, what size it should be on what night and when it was expected to vanish during the day. It knew that it was supposed to revolve around the earth. It was perfect.

A boy, a young man in some eyes, sat, leaning against the side of a house. His legs were pulled up against his chest, chin on his knees, burgandy blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders. Eyes turned upwards, he watched, patiently waiting for the moon to return to where it had been last night. Not that it would.

Perfect.

He didn't even like looking at the moon. It reminded him of everything that it was and that he wasn't- he wasn't beautiful, he wasn't cherished the way that it was, and he absolutely was not perfect. He had asked so many times; he had prayed that God would make him better in some way. That God would make him perfect... or at least closer to. If God had made the moon perfect, then why not him?

Slowly, the boy rose, gathering the blanket around him. Dead grass poking his feet, he crept across the lawn, all the way up the three steps and into the confines of his home. A home that smelled like beer and cigarettes. A home that sounded like silence, and a home that looked like war zone. A home that was a war zone.

He turned into the living room, stepping over little burgandy oragami foxes and cracked bottles. The easy chair was reached with little diffuclty; he sunk into it with even less. He reached over the arm-rest, fingering the coils of a notebook. Slowly, he pulled it onto his lap and opened it to the front page, unmarked save for a graphite squiggle in the margin. A pencil rested on the lined paper, waiting. The boy picked it up, eyes clogged with tears, and started to write.

My name is Yellow Blueberry Michaels and I am 17 years old. You are my journal that I will write in when my mood is bad like it is now.

He paused to wipe his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. Before the tears could ruin the paper. It was wrinkled up enough as it was; he didn't need it to get any worse.

Nobody knows why my name is funny or why I say silly things sometimes. Nobody knows why I cry so easy or why I have to have Mr. Mike to help me in school. They don't know what dad is like or why my sister's name is Purple Fire. Nobody knows where my mom is. Nobody knows how sad I always feel. Nobody knows why I want...

Yellow stopped, flipped the pencil over and rubbed away the last sentence. Another tear trailed down his cheek, landing on the bottom of the page he was writing on. He didn't bother to wipe it away. It just didn't seem that significant anymore.

Nobody knows that I want to die.

Much better.

They don't know that it hurts to be like this when all people do is yell and smack your head. Nobody else that I know so far has ever wanted to be more like the moon or hated the moon because it was more perfect than they were. Nobody knows why I like to knit and everybody thinks it's dumb that I do. They laugh when I make paper foxes all the time in school and the teachers yell at me because I'm not listening to them. Nobody else ever wants to play music with me except for Teetee, but she doesn't even like to build things with me. And Eeston fired me yesterday. Even he says that I should kill myself because all I do is make everything hard for everybody. Maybe he's right. But it's okay. I'll be okay. I hope... Maybe. I want to die.

The pencil dropped, disappearing between the armrest and cushion. Yellow smacked the notebook shut, letting out a confused cry as he tossed it onto the floor. A light turned on in the hall, but by then, he already had his face buried deep in his hands.

"Yellow?" Purple stepped out of the hall, shoulders drooping when she saw her brother. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, stepping around the derbis on her way to the easy-chair.

Yellow flinched when she rested her hand on his shoulder, recoiling from her touch. He didn't want anybody right now; especially not Purple. She hurt when he was like this, and he didn't want to make her feel the same way that he did. She was too little... she shouldn't have to deal with things like this yet. Should she?

"Yellow?" she repeated, eyes growing moist. She tried again to rest her hand on her brother's shoulder, relaxing when he didn't recoil a second time. "Please tell me what's wrong?"

Yellow lifted his head, lips quivering, and stared over Purple's shoulder. "It hurts again," he murmured. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, trying to force himself to stop crying. It didn't work. It never worked. "It hurts." His eyes trailed to the hallway, resting on the very first door. "He got drunk this morning... when you were at Mrs. Jorhan's house..."

Purple's hand lifted from his shoulder. She climbed onto his lap, pulling her legs up so that she could curl into a tight ball against his chest. Her heart was as heavy as her brother's by now, and she didn't like it. Nobody liked feeling the way they did. "Did he hit you this time?" Her voice trembled; no matter how hard she tried to keep it even, it always trembled.

"No... he just yelled at me a lot and said bad things."

Purple sighed, letting her head flop onto Yellow's shoulder. It was an attempt at comfort, but it felt more like a gesture of defeat- to both of them. "I'm sorry... I should have been here..." she trailed off, staring absently at Yellow's hand. Just for something to look at.

"You didn't know he was gonna drink again. It wasn't your fault, it was mine like Eeaston said it always is, 'cause I'm stupid and it makes him frustrated... I think I would be frustrated, too if my son was like I am." He looked down, wrapping his arms around his little sister. She snuggled into him.

Maybe he had lied to his journal a few minutes ago... she knew, kind of, didn't she? Even if it was only the part of her that loved him that was hurting, and it was all of him that hurt, she knew a little. Purple wasn't everybody, but she wasn't nobody, either. Maybe he would change that later.

"You're not stupid, Yellow," she muttered. "I don't know anybody who can make cool things like you, or anybody who plays the piano and the guitar as good as you do." She wrapped her arms around him, squishing her hands between the back of the chair and his spine, hugging him as tightly as she could. He needed to know how smart she thought he was, even if it wasn't the same kind of smart as everybody else. Then again, Yellow wasn't everybody else. He was Yellow, that was all, and that was good enough for her.

"You forgot the saxophone and the drums and the french horn." He yawned, resting his cheek on top of Purple's head. "I play those, too." There was an ounce of hope in his heart now, an ounce that Purple was all too eager to let grow.

"And Tina said that she'd teach you violin, if you wanted, remember? You'd be good at that, too."

Yellow managed to smile; Purple had to be the best sister in the entire galaxy, even if she was only nine and a half. She really did know a little bit, and as long as she knew some, that was all that mattered, right? But she didn't just know what it felt like to hurt, she knew what it felt like to feel hopeless. She knew what it felt like when you give somebody else hope. "Yeah, I remember." She knew how good it made both sides feel.

"Do you want me to make you something before you go to bed?" Purple asked, pulling away and staring up at her big brother. "I think we have some whipped cream left, and Mrs. Jorhan let me pick some of her raspberries yesterday. She knows they're your favorite."

Yellow frowned, seemingly deep in thought for a moment. He shook his head after a while, stretching his neck up so that he could yawn- without making Purple smell his breath. "I want to save them," he stated. "I have to go to grade eleven class tomorrow... I can eat them for breakfast to celebrate."

He was smiling again, much wider than before. Prouder. Purple smiled back, squirming out of his arms. She landed hap-hazardly on the floor, yawning herself. "That's another thing you did, Yellow- you passed grade ten. Remember how everybody kept on telling you that you wouldn't be able to ever pass it? James said that you'd be repeating it until you were an old man unless you dropped out."

Yellow's smile grew even wider. A sense of much-needed confidence was surging, just like it had on the last day of school last year. The hope had grown. "It only took me one try. Roar lied." He pushed himself up, grabbing hold of the corners of the blanket. "I'm gonna go to bed so that I can get ready before Mr. Mike comes in the morning."

With a smile and a good-night, Purple started back to her room. Yellow waited until the door was closed behind her to bend over and pick up his journal. He tucked it under his arm and crept out of living room and into the hall. Yes, he'd have to change a little bit of it. He had Purple.

"I'm sorry, Yellow." The voice on the other side of the first door was strained, like it was trying to apologize before it started to cry.

Yellow paused, grabbing onto both corners of his blanket with one hand. He rested the other against the cigarette-stained door, fingers spread. His heart squeezed a little bit, but he wasn't sad for himself.

"For what?"

There was a long pause, one that made Yellow feel like he hadn't meant it.

"For... what I said... I'm sorry."

A quiet sob came from the other side of the door, and an even quieter rustling as a body crawled under the covers of a bed. A queen-sized bed with dark green and blue checkers all over the quilt; one that wreaked like alcohol and cigarettes, just like the rest of the house.

Yellow pushed away from the door, longing for the sanctuary of his room. "It's okay," he whispered, hoping that the man could hear him. He shuffled down the hall, gaze trained steadily on the floor. No, he wasn't sad for himself at all. Not anymore. He was sad for his father.

No nitpicks! Lovelovelovelove it! PM me when you post more! Please do continue with this!!!

Really cool story, I love it. Just a few things. The first part was a bit fast. It was some really cool description, but if you slowed it down then I think the reader would get a lot more out of it. Second, there was one typo in the journal paragraph

Nobody knows why my name is funny or why I [color=#FF4000]stay[/color] silly things sometimes. Nobody knows why I cry so easy or why I have to have Mr. Mike to help me in school. They don't know what dad is like or why my sister's name is Purple Fire. Nobody knows where my mom is. Nobody knows how sad I always feel. Nobody knows why I want...

I'm pretty sure you meant say.

One other possibility is that purple sounds just a bit too smart for a 9 year old. Possibly mention something more about her being above average intelligence.

GREAT story though, excited to see more of it. Keep Writing

~Zephion~

There is so much good I can say about this first chapter that it actually boggles my mind.

First off, your characters are on point. They are flawed. They are unusual. They are absolutely nothing I've ever seen before. You give them each a very specific, very interesting personality that shines through almost instantly. In fact, your narrator might be one of the most interesting voices I've heard in a long time when it comes to protagonists so I give you so much props for that.

Secondly, this was a chapter. You started it, you ended it. You introduced. You made us pity. In fact, you made me feel so much for the characters that I actually did not want to stop reading at all simply because I wanted to know if things would be okay for Yellow and Purple.

But there are things everyone can improve on. Even if I immensely enjoyed this piece, there are things of which I could point out that might be of use to you;

1. Descriptions

As much as you do give us insight into the setting and the details that mean quite a bit to the actual storyline, your descriptions were rather on the flat side. Instead of showing us what you meant, I felt that you gave us more of an explanation such as 'The cigarette stained door'. Cigarette stains are a constant throughout this piece which makes it feel a little redundant and bland. I want you to expand on some of these ideas. Make them a little more interesting. A little stronger. For instance, try 'the door was caked in nicotine,'. It gives the same impression but changes up your wording.

I understand you're trying to create a voice, but because you chose for this to be in third person, the voice of narration does not have to be the voice of the protagonist. That being said, feel free to use whichever words would suit your fancy.

2. Word repetition

I note upon this up in the first section there, but not in explicit detail, so I want to take the time an note that you tend to repeat words.

As writers, our sharpest and most important tool is our vocabulary. Diction can be relatively tough to really shape up and takes years to do as such. That being said, I get the impression that your diction is not all that bad, just that when you repeat words like 'moon' constantly, you give the impression of your vocabulary lacking. We want to see you trying to use a whole array of words instead of just repeating the same one over and over again, especially seeing as you are narrating this story. Not the protagonist. So feel free to get as descriptive or intricate as you want.

Overall

I enjoyed this immensely.

The problem is, I fear that if this doesn't pick up a little bit, you'll start to find this piece will turn melodramatic and unapproachable. So, the best thing you can do for this is to remember that not everything can be a sad story and that for people to genuinely care for your characters as much as you care for them, there has to be an up.

Of course, I don't necessarily feel that there won't be! You've started off so well that it would be almost ridiculous for me to assume something other than pure awesomeness.

~Walker

Isshhhyyyy, I loooove youuuuuuuu.......


I can tell without even looking that this is good. (.....God tells me? O.o)

Unfortunately, I'm short on time......... I might come back and read this later. Until then........ I'm sorry I didn't leave a longer review! *tear fountain*

But yes, I can tell this is good. *nods*

Hey Ish. Firstly, I'd like to say I loved this chapter. You wrote it very well. Now onto the few nitpicks. I noticed a few spelling errors.

His legs were pulled up against his chest, chin on his knees, burgandy blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders.

The a is actually supposed to be an u.

He turned into the living room, stepping over little burgandy oragami foxes and cracked bottles.

Again, the a in burgandy should be a u. Also, the a in oragami should be an i.

The easy chair was reached with little diffuclty; he sunk into it with even less.

Firstly, you spelled difficultly wrong. Secondly, maybe it was just me, but that phrase that is bolded wasn't needed. It sounded awkward and a little redundant.

Nobody knows why I cry so easy or why I have to have Mr. Mike to help me in school.

Easy should be easily.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, stepping around the derbis on her way to the easy-chair.

I think you mean debris.

Nobody knows why my name is funny or why I say silly things sometimes.

As for the part in bold, I was wondering the reason behind Yellow's name. Yellow brings up how nobody knows why his name is strange but he doesn't tell us. Are readers going to find that out later?

Yellow pushed away from the door, longing for the sanctuary of his room. "It's okay," he whispered, hoping that the man could hear him. He shuffled down the hall, gaze trained steadily on the floor. No, he wasn't sad for himself at all. Not anymore. He was sad for his father.

Lastly, I thought that Yellow would be not just sad for his father but also angry with him for drinking. Maybe it's not his character to react that way, but I just thought that the expected reaction would to be at least a little angry. Again, just my opinion.

Overall:

You did a really good job with this chapter. Firstly I'll start with the characters. As writers our job is to create unique compelling characters. You succeeded with this. More importantly you were able to show readers the characters' personalities in the first chapter which is something most writers have a hard time doing. Great job with making readers feel sorry for Yellow and want to read more.

Now I'll talk about the descriptions. I thought they were good. They were simple, yet vivid enough for readers to have a clear picture in their head without going over the top with your descriptions. Good job with establishing the descriptions and establishing the setting.

Nothing more to say. You've done a splendid job with the first chapter with characters, dialogue and even setting. Your pacing was perfect, not to slow but not too fast either. I can't wait to read more of your story. If you have any questions feel free to pm me.

Hope I helped-

Lil

Pisha. We meet again.

I haven't read any fiction of yours in, like, ages, so I'm super glad that you've posted this. Before I go all reviewish on you, I want to say that I really like the title of this. It's very intriguing, if you ask me, and dashed with a hint of poeticness (that's totally a word). Basically, I like.

Ahhh... even the mention of a depressed character makes my heart flutter with happiness. Kinda sick, but hey, you know me. This is, like, so totally something I would write. You've got the depressed kid, the cruel father, the innocent sibling and the MC's life is crappy. *Sighs* Beautiful. In case you haven't noticed yet, I like the whole situation of this chapter. As for the chapter itself, I think it was done really well. You touched up on some sensitive emotions and some serious situations here, and I think that's one of the hardest things to do in writing. You pulled it off well, methinks. I also liked the journal thing you had going on. It's a good way of expressing how Yellow feels in a more interesting way rather than just through the narrative.

Before I get all critiqueish with you, I'd like to give you a... warning, as such. So far, this story's quite blatantly depressing, right? Well, I think you need to be careful. You see, I personally don't have this problem at all because to me, the more depressing, the better. As for others though, it can sometimes get a bit much for readers when a whole novel isn't a happy one. Obviously, it's way too soon for me to judge this and assume that the whole thing is depressing, which is why I'm saying this as a warning rather than a critique or anything. Basically, while it is great to have some gritty and dark stuff in this, be sure to include some good, bright moments. Don't have the entire thing making us want to slit our wrists or anything. (I'm trying to think like that in the novel I'm currently writing because that's pretty depressing overall...) I think Dreamwalker has actually touched up on this, so yeah, bear it in mind.

My only nit-pick has something to do with Yellow's voice. He's supposed to be around 16 or something, right? You mentioned him completing the tenth grade, so I assume he's 16, if not older. (I researched what age tenth graders were in America land 'cause I'm such a fearless kid.) Well, most of the time he did come across as around that age, but there were points in this where he seemed younger. This is a little hard to critique because there could be several reasons why he may seem younger. To begin with, he's clearly very low. That can sometimes effect the apparent age of a person because their behaviour is different from normal. As well as that, I get the impression that Yellow isn't supposed to be insanely smart or anything (not academically, anyway), so that could effect the age he comes across as.

So yeah, I reckon you should think about the way you want to portray his age. You may want him to seem younger than he is, but you may not. If you want him to seem younger, then I don't think you really need to do anything. If you do want him to seem older though, I don't think it'll be too hard to fix it because I think the main reason he's seeming younger to me has something to do with his dialogue.

"No... he just yelled at me a lot and said bad things."

I understand that he's speaking to his little sister so he isn't going to say the words exactly, but using the term 'said bad things' seems like something a little kid would say.

"You forgot the saxophone and the drums and the french horn." He yawned, resting his cheek on top of Purple's head. "I play those, too."

This is probably a better example. This reminded me a lot of something my little cousin actually said once, hehe. *Is about to get technical* The repetition of 'and' here instantly gives me a childish impression. You know, when kids explain things, they don't use periods or commas. They just say things like, I was going to the park and my friend was there and he said hello and then I said hi and then we went to play on the slide but I wasn't happy and he was because he went on first. What he says also seems kind of childish. This is just how I interpreted it, but it made Yellow seem like he was reminding Purple of the fact that he could play those instruments in a boastful, kiddie kind of manner. Like when kids are proud of something they've done/can do and they like telling people about it.

I'm worried that made no sense whatsoever, so if it didn't, sorry...

Although I think you handled the emotions awesomely overall, I think you could have maybe handled Yellow's depression a little better at times. I think he's coming across as... well, as a little less depressed than you want him to be, I think. I mean, he's admitted that he wants to die. That is the peak of depression. Sure, Yellow says that he's nothing like the moon, that he's useless and such, but I just feel like there could be some more. Has he ever cut himself before? A mention of that would definitely up how depressed he comes across. To be honest though, I don't think this is a huge problem and it may just be me being all paranoid.

I'm being a little harsh in this review I know, but it's just 'cause I know how awesome you are, duh. I kind of want this to be in first person, but that may just be me being biased because I've always preferred first person stories. For this kind of story though, I do think first person works well because one of the main aims of this, well, this specific chapter anyway is emotions. I've always found that expressing emotions is always easier and often better in first person. I'm not going to make you change the POV or anything though because it's your story, not mine.

That kind of ties in to what I now want to say. Basically, I think you can write the last scene more effectively. I'm not too sure about Yellow's feelings towards his father. There's definite fear there, but what else? Is he angry at his father? Does he wish that he wouldn't drink and all of that junk? Or does he feel bad for him maybe? I get the impression that is the case because of the last few lines of this chapter, but I don't think it's clear enough. Before, he seemed angry at his father because of him being so aggressive and drunk, but then the last part came and it seemed like he felt the complete opposite of that towards his father. I'm just a bit unsure of what Yellow's feelings are towards him really. Clear that up and I think you'll be fine.

I've blabbered on way too much now, so sorry about that. I know it seems like I've grabbed a bulldozer and ran you over with it in this review, but I do honestly love the whole idea of this chapter. Your writing style is great, smooth and easy to follow without sounding too simple. You better post the next part of this sometime soon, Pisha, otherwise I'll actually eat your head. I'm very intrigued on what will happen next and you've already managed to make me feel sympathetic towards Yellow and Purple, so a great job on that. (You should know how much I really do like this chapter because the more I blabber in a review, the more likely it means that I would marry the story if it were human. Or a pony. I'd marry it then too.)

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins

Hi, Isha! :D

I think this story is pretty interesting, and you've certainly got me wanting to read more of it. A few nitpicks to get out of the way first:

The moon was hiding that night, just as it was supposed to at this time in its cycle. The moon knew; it knew what it was supposed to do and when it was supposed to do it. It didn't have to be yelled at or hit- the moon was the moon.

I think that the part about the moon's cycle, you just don't need it. It's a little extra detail that slows things down. You probably could have gotten away with it if it were later in the piece, but I think as this is right at the beginning you need something with a bit more trim to get the pace going. Also, you've got a bit of repetition with moon. There are more examples of this thoughout this, particularly at the beginning. In this paragraph it's moon, the third God, and in the fourth the repetition of house is really rather noticable.

He turned into the living room, stepping over little burgandy oragami foxes and cracked bottles.

This, I quite like. There's something whimsical about it, really.

Nobody knows why my name is funny or why I stay silly things sometimes. Nobody knows why I cry so easy or why I have to have Mr. Mike to help me in school. They don't know what dad is like or why my sister's name is Purple Fire. Nobody knows where my mom is. Nobody knows how sad I always feel. Nobody knows why I want...

Again, there's a lot of repetition. Here with nobody.

They don't know that it hurts to be like this when all people do is yell and smack your head. Nobody else that I know so far has ever wanted to be more like the moon or hated the moon because it was more perfect than they were. Nobody knows why I like to knit and everybody thinks it's dumb that I do. They laugh when I make paper foxes all the time in school and the teachers yell at me because I'm not listening to them. Nobody else ever wants to play music with me except for Teetee, but she doesn't even like to build things with me. And Eeston fired me yesterday. Even he says that I should kill myself because all I do is make everything hard for everybody. Maybe he's right. But it's okay. I'll be okay. I hope... Maybe. I want to die.

This is where I began to struggle. We've gone from slowly being introduced to the character, the indications that things aren't right at home, the little whimsical foxes, and all of a sudden that sort of magic and intrigue and curiosity is gone. Instead, what you've got is sort of like an info dump, with Yellow telling us why his life sucks so much. The problem is, at this point in the story we don't really know Yellow very well at all and so in that sense it's kinda hard to really sympathise with him too much. How much of it really is traumatic life experiences, how much of it is the typical teenage struggles that we all go through to a certain degree? It's almost like an excuse to just tell us about Yellow's life, rather than showing us it.

From here on, it seems to be pretty much just Purple and Yellow talking to each other and being emotional, and if I'm honest I found it a little hard to get through. I think a great deal of it is, as I mentioned, that we haven't really spent enough time with the characters yet to be able to really form that much of an emotional bond, or to connect with them yet. It all still feels a little distant and detached, like we're looking into the lives of strangers, rather than people that we care about and are invested in. It's the sort of thing that takes time to build up, and I think that there's just too much of it to really fit too well into the beginning of a novel. You've introduced to many ideas and issues all at once, it's like it's a little hard to really process any of them properly because they're all fighting for attention.

I get the impression from the title that the kids having names that are colours will be significant? I think the thing is, it's interesting the first time when we're introduced to Yellow because it's something new and unusual, and Purple's name doesn't have the same impact, and in a way dilutes that of Yellow's. It's kinda weird when it reads like two colours having a conversation. One alternative could possibly giving her, or other characters that may have colours for names, the name of a particular colour itself, if that makes sense? With regards to variations in purple, there's things like Lilac and Lavender, which are actual names, and other more unusual ones such as Heliotrope or Mulberry.

I can see why you've fallen in love with Yellow, though! He seems like such a dear sweetheart and it must be fun to write him :) and despite the issues and my poor attention span, this was still pretty enjoyable to read. Do let me know if you ever post any more and would like me to take a look over it!

I hope that I've been of some help to you! If you have any questions or anything you'd like me to elaborate on, feel free to shoot me a PM and whatnot :D

-- Tinny