Young Writers Society

I have always feared them. People would adore their curled up body, their velvet like furs, the stripes they bore, but me? It always triggers a spine-cracking fear inside of me. Touching them is a distinct thing; I’ve never even stood in front of them without my knees buckling. By them I mean cats and kittens. Yeah, those cute creations of God.

You had your tenses mixed a bit here, but that's not really a sentence structure problem. I actually edited this so it was in present tense, but reading on, the rest of the piece is in past tense. Nonetheless, this first paragraph does work in present tense, so you can keep it, if you want. For example, it could be the MC narrating the story from the present and looking back at events.

I forced my eyes shut as soon the door opened. Curiosity getting the better of me, I slightly opened the corner of my eye slightly from the corner, and was soon welcomed by a blurred image of Mrs. Skelel. Her shiny red earrings corrupted my vision for a nanosecond, before her smile engraved it.

“Yes, Brandon,” she spoke in a raspy tone. I shoved my feet back. I always used to maintain a good distance from her.

Thinking how rude I was acting I decided to open my eyes. But before doing that, I widened my eyes a bit more and carefully scanned the area that lay behind the door. For that, I had to slightly tilt my head slightly to get a the better view of the space that Mrs. Skelel didn’t occupy at the door, and once I was done, I opened my eyes. It took a moment for me to my eyes to regain my their vision back, and before it could do so, tiny ants crawled in front of me. Once I could see like a normal being, I dug out my hands into my satchel, and pulled out the big box I used to bring here for her everyday. The box with packets of gallons of milk for twenty cats. Twenty!

I'm noticing a pattern with the word slightly. Instead of putting that word before the noun you're describing, you need to put it after as you should be able to see by my edits. It's a little hard to explain, so I hope you can see what I mean by the edits I've done. As for other things, they're mostly things it's kind of hard to give advice on because they're typical mistakes for a person whose first language isn't English. Sometimes you add in words when they're not needed, for example.

Plastering a smile faker than Pamela Anderson’s …you get it, right? I stretched my hand to give the old lady her box. A half-impressed smile crept through onto her face as she held the box tightly, and I felt suddenly lighter. I didn’t have to wait any longer.

“Why don’t I treat you to a yummy bowl of soup, today, Brannie? What do you say?” she asked in the most tempting voice she could create, and traced my jaw line with her stick like hands. I withered my nose in disgust. As a reflex, my arms started shaking, and a tickling sensation crossed my upper arm.

Something else I think you tend to do is make it clear what you want to say, but word it a bit wrong... I think I can bring my English-Welsh education into this actually. If I translate something from Welsh word by word into English, it will be wrong. For example, if I translated, Dydw i ddim yn hoffi cathod gan ei fod nhw'n hyll iawn word by word into English, it would be I don't in like cats by it's being they're ugly very. You can see what that sentence is supposed to mean, but it's clearly wrongly phrased. What you probably do, which is totally understandable, is translate what you want to say word by word, right? Because of that, it's clear what you're trying to say in some of your phrases, but the technicality of the wording is a bit off... Does any of what I've just said make sense to you?

I pushed back the lump that was being formed in my throat every passing second I was near her. “It’s not Brannie. Call me-”

“As if I don’t know what you’re called. I know it’s Brandon, but ain’t that what everyone calls you by? I need to have somethin’ different, for Christ’s sake,” she replied gravely. Meekly, I just nodded in approval, against what I had in my mind. To divert my attention from the freak eighty year old something lady, I started looking at my shoes. I noticed how dirty they were, and how a layer of mud covered them. Then I started looking at her long purple robe. Whatever happened to her regular mourning black one? With those cat prints? Or were they tiger’s? I stretched my gaze upwards. Her red earrings dangled from her ears, and blood red lipstick polished her lips. Her face was unevenly wrinkled, folding to pouches at certain points of her skin, while other times it was as smooth as a road.

“Mam, I must leave,” I said.

As if my words had triggered something inside her mind, she unclipped her mouth, and a sudden halitosis greeted me. A mixed breath of stale mushrooms and alcohol entered my nose. Since she was a customer, I couldn’t immediately bring a handkerchief or my hand to stop the stench from reaching my mouth, so I did the best thing. I retracted back, but slowly, making my movement appear intangible. My shoes created an ear-tickling sound as I did so, though. But no sooner, I felt something touching my hoodie, and with a grasp of her hand she pulled me in. Inside the house of terror-amongst twenty cats.

Ailurophobia. Sounds like a cute name, right? But for me, it arouses a sense of deep fear.

Wikipedia would define it as a persistent, irrational fear of cats. Irrational? I don’t think so. Every phobia has a very core reason behind it, and it takes more than just a Wikipedia article to scrub it off. That was Wikipedia’s definition for it, and mine (the practical one) goes as follows:

(a) Action: Fear from every cat on the street, alley, every nook and cranny, where not.

Reaction: Scanning every place for a cat, and if one found, then running for life.

(b)Action: Fear of being gobbled up alive by a cat. Seriously!

Reaction: Imagining the scene every time the thought crosses my mind. First she (the cat) makes me tiny with her laser beam, which I haven’t yet figured out where she gets from, and then pounces on me like a tiger does on the Discovery channel.

(c) Action: The word ‘cat’ releasing a stimulus in my body that causes me to…become deranged.

Reaction: Severe damage to the property or people around me.

There’ds be many more to be listed.

***

I cowered back in fear as I leaned back against the wall, sweat dripping from my face. I looked down to see a pool of sweat materializing. I continued gazing at it just to prevent my mind from bombarding. The ripple in the sweat pool hypnotized me for a second, so much that I forgot where I am.

I've noticed you sometimes using the same word in a sentence for describing the same thing... The first sentence in the paragraph above, for example. You've already said the MC's cowered back in fear, so the next time you mention him cowering back is redundant. I have noticed this with some other sentences, but I think the way to fix this is pretty easy. Whenever you use the same word in one sentence more than once, read over that sentence and think about if you really need that extra word.

I forgot that right now where I sit is exactly what a nightmare forms a part of. I forgot that where I was sitting right now was exactly what my nightmares were made of. I forgot that this place was is where I have had always dreaded to be at, and despite my preventions, I have had arrived here. I forgot that in moments, twenty cats would be released on me and before I even know knew it, I would be just a soul.

A rotten smell scudded through the air, forcing me to shut my nostrils. I couldn’t help but associate the smell with cats’ flesh, and the thought was more than just petrifying. My heartbeat accelerated, and even before I knew it, there’s was no trace of my heart. It’s was like it hasd vanished, just like that. Fear hasd paralyzed my brain so badly that instead of hoping to get out alive, I prayed for God to call me up. Away from this fug, away from the constant fear of living in a world together with cats.

You had a few more tense slip ups here. Nothing too major though.

I looked up, scared. The place was dauntingly small, and it seemed seeming like the walls were closing up in on me. There was nothing for a but furniture, and the floor was filled with dirt.

Soon, Mrs. Skelel appeared in the hallway and limping she made her way towards me. I never noticed before that she had a limp. I hugged my knees ever so tightly, and started rocking back and forth. Humming to a Hindu tune my grandma taught me when I was nine, I again scrunched shut my eyes shut again. I don’t didn't believe I would have the courage to face her, or her cats.

“Brandon, there are some of my friends are showing interest in meeting you,” she hissed and judging by the sudden warming up of the air near my ears, I knew she was near me. All the veins in my body contracted, and there’s was nothing left to bolster my fading courage. I have had become…helpless.

You’ve have to be brave, Bran. For mom and dad? A candy like sweet and smooth voice entered my ears. Christina. Amazed plus baffled at the same time, I bobbed my head so I could again hear the voice again. I know knew who she was, but I still couldn't can’t stillbelieve it.

Yes, it’s me. Wake up, sleepy head or it would will be the end (of you?).

As if the fear had been pulled out of my chest, I opened my eyes. These two sentences had been enough to boost my failing confidence. I am was ready to face anything now, or so I thought.

“Finally, Brannie,” she exclaimed, and erupted into a laughter. She sat crouched on the floor, boring into my eyes. Her eyes were deep red, just as her lips, and there was a shimmer of yellow at the center, which made it them look all the more horrid. I snapped my head towards the right, and refused to let her eyes lock gaze with mine.

“Never mind. Young boys like you deserve more than just meeting my friends. You should be feeding them yourselves. The stirring sensation your hands would feel when they stick their tongues at it them, would…just, well, blow your mind,” she said smugly. I watched in disgust as she closed her eyes, and took the feel(ing in?) herself. The very thought of a cat being anywhere near me made my heart seclude in between my chest.

“Never,” I bark. This new found courage makes made me glad for a moment, before I realized that now that I had it, it meant I had to be fair to it. I couldn’t let it go to garbage.

She narrowed her eyes, and her bony hands crept their way towards my hair, but I bolted up. Before she could even notice, I was sprinting out of the doomed hall. Since the my surroundings were was murky, with no source of light, but the little curtains filtered, I had to be careful not to trip over something. My laces were open, but I didn’t have time to look over such minuscule things. I had a bigger task at my in hand.

I bounced around the house, jumping over scattered things like milk bowls, and wool yarn on the floor. Although my body had released a gallon of adrenaline which had helped in my escape, my mind had gone numb. There was nothing running in it, and it most definitely seemed that it had gone blank. I was just like a zombie, but the difference was that I was running to save my life from an evil person rather than running to catch a prey.

“Brandon, how far would you go? Sprawly would catch you even before you can breathe next time,” a screeching voice, just like of a chalk against the board, reached me.

The dialogue above is worded a bit awkwardly, but I'm not sure what you're trying to say, so I can't really fix it... I think it may be a case of what I said earlier about translating things word by word.

I took a turn and came across a flight of stairs that would take me down. Before using them, I took a breath and held the staircase bar firmly. I realized by the slime-like glue sticking my hand to the bar that how much I had been sweating. I unglued my hand and started loping down. To be more careful and quick, I took two steps at a time, and sometimes I even lost my balance.

When I was about to reach the end, I noticed a pack of black and white stuffed toys lining up in the way. Curse my luck or me, apparently these stuffed toys could even move. As they tremulously moved tremulously, an electric current like thing crawled through my neck spreading to my whole body. I stood there, numbness taking over my body again. One of them started up the stairs, and soon she was three stairs far away from me. The moment my eyes met hers, my vision became groggy while my limbs being denied their blood supply. Her eyes glinted with a streak of red, and it most obviously resembled the colour of my blood.

She has a lust for your blood, Bran. My mind cried.

When I finally realized the maelstrom I had been caught up in, I screamed. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean,we can’t?” I whirled back to see Mrs. Skelel elegantly climbing down the stairs. “Heh?”

A serene look had overtaken her earlier sordid one, and contempt plastered her face. It was like she had got what she had wanted. I could just stare at her in horror. She shifted her head towards my right, and began speaking to the leader of the cats. “I told you I’d prepare red soup for you today, didn’t I?” She smiled.

I turned my head to look at the cat, which had surprisingly stopped at the place I had last seen her at. As if the words Mrs. Skelel had said made sense to her, she wagged her head in approval. I could feel my nerves clamping tight.

“Please…let me go, Mrs. -”

“And let my cats die of hunger?” she quizzed, furrowing her eyebrows. Rolling her eyes, and clutching tightly to her robe she shook her head. “Death is what you get for hating my cats,” she griped.

“Just this time,” I pleaded.

“I made a promise. I’d eliminate every cat hater from the world. Mama has to keep her promise she made to her kids, doesn’t she?” she asked in the most jejune tone.

“Puh...lease?”

“Sprawly, attack.” She pointed her finger towards me and even before I could know it before I knew it, I was being hauled down by the cat with my jeans clenched tight between her two rows of teeth. I resisted by holding the bar tightly, but adamantly Mrs. Skelel took my fingers, unglued their hold, and pushed them to weaken my grasp.

I was howling now, tears stinging up my eyes and freezing at the canthus. There came a time when all I could hear was my cries, nothing beyond it. It felt awfully pathetic; to have become partially deaf. As the rule of the nature would have it the cat emerged victorious, and my cadaver was lying down with eyes open. Blood spilled around me, making a bigger radius than what my sweat pool had formed up back there. Helpless, my soul stepped out of the dead matter, and I see saw everything unfolding before my eyes.

My corpse being eaten away by the cats, and a resonating laughter by Mrs. Skelel. Every time my flesh was being ripped into shreds, my heart gave out a lurch. A crack reverberated as they bit on my bones. I noticed my sneakers had fallen a good distance away from my body, and the untied laces were soaked up in blood. My eyes were open and stared up at the ceiling aimlessly. Twenty of cats feasted on me, while I just stood there, watching it happen. What a lovely sight... xD

Cats had won the war; I had been defeated. This was the most feeble I had ever felt as a guy.

“Brandon, wake up!” A blaring tone rang in my ear. I lazily opened my eyes and immediately shut them as a ray of sunlight reached them. I tossed in my bed and the sudden realization hits me. It was just a dream? I trace my face with my palm, to find nothing but sweat. No blood? My heart let out a song of joy. I looked more further into the distance to find my sneakers still on, with no trace of blood anywhere.

I snapped my head to my right to find my alarm singing the same monotonous song it always used to, “Brandon, wake up!”

A smile crept on my face. It was just a dream. Just a freaking dream!

Even though you fear them, dude, they can’t harm you. Just remember.” I reminded myself.