Young Writers Society

Zankoku: yes, I like those changes. Ugh. You wouldn't believe how much more horrible the part at the end sounded in the first draft. Blech. I was going for a three-repetition, but you're definitely right. It sounds better without the third.

I mostly agree with the others. But... it may be just me, but I thought it was a little dull. I got sidetracked and forced myself to focus much of the time. I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired or something.

Otherwise, very well-written.

And while I don't want to begin a religious dispute, I agree with Crysi. If I read something that's Jewish or even Satanic I don't get offended. I just either read it and give my opinion on the general writing, or don't say anything at all and move on.

But anyway, good work, NewWriter (are you going to change your name?).

Keep writing.

I really enjoyed this. On the whole, it was smooth, concise, well-written. I agree with last post... That bit at the end sort of threw the ending. Besides that, I think you're on the right track. Also, I admire your courage to tell people they could tear it up. I don't think I could do that!

Okay, this is just all kinds of awesome. I love your style of writing, for a reason I can't quite identify. It's sort of soothing, in a way. Somehow, it makes me feel a bit nostalgic.

when there were more important people about him.

It was a day that we still remember each year.

Personally, I disagree -- a warning is not necessary. Though I am Christian, if this was a Hindu piece, or a Muslim piece, or even an atheist piece, I wouldn't be offended. I would read it for what it was.

Anyway.

I found this to be a lovely piece. A bit predictable, yes, but very beautiful. The dialogue was well-written, and I loved Miriam's fears -- or, rather, how they were portrayed. And good use of the name Joshua! I'm sure not many people know that Jesus is pretty much the Greek translation of the Hebrew for "Joshua;" I only recently learned this. But it gives a softer feel to it, I think, and makes Him seem more like a real person, someone who actually lived, than the holy image so many attribute to the name "Jesus."

Also! I think the names are fine. Both are found in the Bible, and it didn't seem out of place to me.

But I loved this. It was very sweet, and the end was quite touching and sad. Be happy, Miriam! In three days He will rise.

Great job!

Pickle810 wrote:First, if you're going to write something religion based, tell people at the top. Some people get offended, which isn't good.

Okay, not much time, so lemme just nit-pick! Such fun.

First, if you're going to write something religion based, tell people at the top. Some people get offended, which isn't good. Also, the post-upon post thing confused me. If you've got more than one part to a story, post it in pieces a few days apart. You'll get plenty more critiques that way!

In the last one, where you say "ten-year-old Miriam" it sounds like something a first grader would write. Work in her age later, like where you say how strange the way Joshua speaks to her is. Say "in her ten years of life, Miriam had never been spoken to in such a way..." that will sound better, and smoother.

Last thing-Miriam's an awkward name here, especially with her brother named Ezra. A Jewish name, or a very traditional name, would work better. Consider Lea, Alize, Rivka, Gittl, or something similar instead.

Ha...it just struck me that this is really a kind of appropriate time to post, if you catch my meaning...anyway:



“Little girl, would you lend your brother to me for a few minutes?”

The gentle voice startled ten-year-old Miriam and interrupted her thoughts, which mostly consisted of how long it would take her and her little brother Ezra to reach the front of the water-line. Who would have guessed that there would be a new teacher in the village square and the line for the well would be so long?

“Me, sir?” Miriam was surprised that he would speak to her, a young girl, when there were more important people about him. Holding her brother by one hand and her water jug in the other, Miriam turned to face the teacher. He was a young-looking man, clean shaven with brown hair streaked by the strong summer sun. He had a kind face and warm golden-brown eyes, which at the moment held a slightly amused expression.

“Yes, you,” he said playfully, smiling at her. “I need a small child for my lesson. Would you consider loaning me your brother? I’ll return him when you are finished filling your jug.”

Head tilted on one side, Miriam considered this for a moment. Her mother had always told her not to trust strangers, especially now that Ezra was mostly blind. But this man was somehow different. His eyes seemed compassionate and honest, but she supposed that with practice even a criminal could make his eyes show an expression contradictory to his character. No matter, Miriam told herself decisively. Even if he isn’t good, which I doubt very much, he couldn’t possibly do anything to Ezra with this many people around.

With a sudden boldness she asked the teacher, “Who are you, sir?”

His smile grew. “Not many girls would be brave enough to ask that.” Miriam blushed. He continued, “My name is Joshua.”

Miriam eyed him thoughtfully despite her decision. “Could you—can he—may Ezra sit on your lap? He’s usually more calm than when he’s being held.” She felt distinctly self-conscious making this request of the teacher, but she knew from past experience that Ezra would protest loudly if uncomfortable. After all, he was only three years old.

“Of course,” replied Joshua, not at all put out by the question. The tension left Miriam. With great care she set down her jug and led Ezra over to Joshua. The little boy toddled along fully content with this new and completely unexpected turn of events. Some women in the crowd chuckled.

“Here, Ezra, you just sit on this nice man’s lap and I’ll be back soon.” Miriam carefully handed the little boy over to Joshua and was rewarded with another smile.

“Thank you very much, Miriam.”

The girl started. She hadn’t told him her name. Then she shrugged. Miriam was a common name in her town. Lucky guess. She picked up her jug and headed back to the line. A kind teenager named Lydia had saved Miriam’s spot for her. “Thank you,” Miriam whispered gratefully to Lydia as the younger girl took her place once more.

Now that she was back in line, the gossip of the older women drowned out Joshua’s voice. It annoyed Miriam. Since Joshua had borrowed her brother, Miriam was now related faintly to the teacher’s lesson and would have liked to hear it.

Finally Miriam reached the front of the water line. She filled her jug and cautiously made her way over to where Joshua sat on the rock with Ezra contentedly on his lap. The little boy had the biggest grin on his face that Miriam had ever seen. She arrived just as Joshua finished speaking. He saw her and smiled.

“Look, Ezra, your sister’s back. You’ve been a very good helper. Now go run along back to her.” Ezra slipped off Joshua’s lap and toddled back to Miriam. The crowd parted for him to pass and then closed tightly around Joshua.

Ezra reached Miriam and tugged at her dress. Miriam was annoyed by the pull. No matter how many times she told him to stop, he always did it when he wanted her attention. She glanced down at him. “Now what, Ezra?”

“Miwiam, et’s go ome,” he said in his childish lisp, brown eyes flashing with excitement.

“Alright, Ezra. Come on, we’ll go past—wait a minute.” Miriam broke off. Brown eyes? Ezra’s eyes had been a cloudy blue ever since… ever since…

“Ezra.” Miriam struggled to keep her voice calm as she went down on one knee in front of her brother. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

It was the first time he had ever gotten the question right. Miriam was amazed. Then she gasped. He could see.

“Pease can we go ome?”

“In a minute, Ezra. I need to say something to Joshua.” Miriam stood up. She tried unsuccessfully to see him through the crowd. It was too thick, and she couldn’t push through. It went against all her upbringing to leave someone without thanking them for a gift they’d given. But she had no choice. It was impossible to get near the teacher.

As Miriam turned homeward, her little brother babbling wildly at all the new sights, she suddenly had the inexplicable feeling that it was alright that she couldn’t thank Joshua at that moment. She felt sure that she would have the opportunity sometime in the future. It might be days from now, it might be weeks or months, but the chance would come.

***

It was a cold, dark Friday evening. Miriam laid her head against the cold stone. The mourners were gone. The mother was gone. The friends were gone. She knelt alone by the tomb. There was no name, no dates, no inscription of his life on a gravestone. There was only a roughly hewn rock set before a cave of granite.

It was a cold, dark Friday evening. Miriam knew in her heart it was too late for words to matter, but she owed him a debt that she still needed to pay. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” With the words came relief. She was weary to the bone and she felt she could sleep until Sunday morning. She whispered one last time, “Thank you, Joshua,” then fell soundly asleep.

It was a cold, dark Friday evening. It was a day Miriam would remember. It was a day the world would remember.

It was a cold, dark Friday evening—the evening of Good Friday.

I would really likes some crits. Feel free to tear it apart, since it's got to be majorly edited before I can submit it to my school's arts magazine. (And again before it could be a prologue--which is really why I wrote it.) *gets down on knees and begs* Please crit? Anyone?

Wait...I'll post it all in one part...

Good point. I will do that.

Again, short but great. Just one word of advice, I wouldn't recommend just posting and posting and posting. People on here don't like it, and you won't get any reviews. Loads of critiques or posts in the lunge and community forums are okay, but not of your own work. It can really annoy people.

I'm a little confused as to what's happening, but I'm sure all will be explained. Again, go a day or two before you post the next bit and give people a chance to crit these ones.

Yah, it's kind of a long prologue; I tried to break it off at a good place. Maybe more of a short story.

(Prologue part 2)


(I was trying to imitate a little kid speaking for Ezra, so he's got misspellings.)



Now that she was back in line, the gossip of the older women drowned out Joshua’s voice. It annoyed Miriam. Since Joshua had borrowed her brother, Miriam was now related faintly to the teacher’s lesson and would have liked to hear it.

Finally Miriam reached the front of the water line. She filled her jug and cautiously made her way over to where Joshua sat on the rock with Ezra contentedly on his lap. The little boy had the biggest grin on his face that Miriam had ever seen. She arrived just as Joshua finished speaking. He saw her and smiled.

“Look, Ezra, your sister’s back. You’ve been a very good helper. Now go run along back to her.” Ezra slipped off Joshua’s lap and toddled back to Miriam. The crowd parted for him to pass and then closed tightly around Joshua.

Ezra reached Miriam and tugged at her dress. Miriam was annoyed by the pull. No matter how many times she told him to stop, he always did it when he wanted her attention. She glanced down at him. “Now what, Ezra?”

“Miwiam, et’s go ome,” he said in his childish lisp, brown eyes flashing with excitement.

“Alright, Ezra. Come on, we’ll go past—wait a minute.” Miriam broke off. Brown eyes? Ezra’s eyes had been a cloudy blue ever since… ever since…

“Ezra.” Miriam struggled to keep her voice calm as she went down on one knee in front of her brother. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

It was the first time he had ever gotten the question right. Miriam was amazed. Then she gasped. He could see.

“Pease can we go ome?”

“In a minute, Ezra. I need to say something to Joshua.” Miriam stood up. She tried unsuccessfully to see him through the crowd. It was too thick, and she couldn’t push through. It went against all her upbringing to leave someone without thanking them for a gift they’d given. But she had no choice. It was impossible to get near the teacher.

As Miriam turned homeward, her little brother babbling wildly at all the new sights, she suddenly had the inexplicable feeling that it was alright that she couldn’t thank Joshua at that moment. She felt sure that she would have the opportunity sometime in the future. It might be days from now, it might be weeks or months, but the chance would come.

Very nice, very nice indeed. Not much went on, but I just really enjoyed reading this. There was... something about it that I really liked.

There weren't any mistakes that I could see, and your writing was very nice. I'm sorry I can't give a more helpful review, especially as you're new, but I can't think of anything that can be improved, expempt maybe length. I was really drawn into this story, so I want more.

I know a little about third world countries and what can happen to unsuspecting kids, so if you need any help with anything I'd be happy to help. But I'm sure you know what you're talking about.

Again, loved it.