Fragility

I kick my way through the ruins, broken glass crunching under my feet. Clouds of dust billow and obscure my view, and I cough, as I've done so often in the past few months.

I remember what it used to be like, before my world fell apart. They're not all filled with mystery and intrigue like TV and the movies would have you believe. Desperate Housewives seemed like it took place in an alien world. All of the houses were small and close together. We were all good friends, apart from with the Johnsons. They were horrible, though. My mum used to bake cakes and take them to our neighbours, except for them. And now she'll never do that again.

To my mind, what happened wasn't that long ago. A few months, at most. It's been three years but I can still remember it like it was yesterday. The memory is as clear as glass, and just as sharp. Mum was baking one of her famous cakes, and my baby sister Ellie was playing in the flour she had tipped on the floor. She looked like a ghost. That's how I remember her now. We heard the sound of a plane nearby, and then my world shattered.

After that day, the people who could still walk left the town. It became a shell of itself. I left Ellie and my family where they were. I think I left my soul with them.

I catch a glimpse of something under all of the rubble, and kneel, pushing aside unrecognisable chunks of my life to find it. Some glass opens a gash in my hand, but I don't try to stop the blood. I watch it flow for a few seconds, and then keep digging.

It's a photo of Ellie and Cindy, our dog. Cindy's jumping on Ellie and her hands are up in submission. Her mouth is open, but I can't tell if she's laughing or screaming.

She looks happy. And I remember that day, too. Like all the others, it feels like it just happened. Who knew that a coma could disconnect you from the world so fully, even if you wake? Sometimes I feels like I never did, like I'm still dreaming. Sometimes, I wish that was true.

I put the photo down. There's no point in dwelling in the past. Because after all, what's left of it is all around me, and there's only destruction, as far as I can see. It's amazing. In just one day, everything you know can vanish. That should tell you something about the fragility of life.

The doctors say that I don't have long left. A few years, if I'm lucky. Coming back here's probably shortened that. There's no way of telling; everyone was too afraid to see if the air was still poisonous. I had to come back, though, and put my ghosts to rest before I died. But the dull ache that used to reside within me has flared now, to become a stabbing pain in my heart. Maybe we're not meant to make peace. Maybe we're supposed to dwell on our regrets, our misgivings, until we die.

I brush some dust over the photo. "Rest in peace, Ellie. I'm sorry I couldn't take you with me." I stand, and walk away.

Okay, this is my story that got into the Yearbook at the end of last year. I edited it a little, just a few touches. it's also a demonstration of what it takes to get an Excellence in Year 11 at my school.

I think I may have mixed up the tense occasionally, by putting it in past when I was going for present, or vice versa. If you could look for that, it'd be much appreciated.

Don't question the inclusion of the dog, please. She was real, and she died last year. This is as much her memorial as anything else.

Sad story. But a good one; you have the tone just right IMHO,

I kick my way through the ruins, broken glass crunching under my feet. Clouds of dust billow and obscure my view. I cough, as I've done so often in the past few months.

I don't quite know why, but I would join the last two sentences there with an "and"...it reads just a shade too stilted for a beginning.

I remember what it used to be like, before my world fell apart. They're not all filled with mystery and intrigue like TV and the movies would have you believe. Desperate Housewives seemed almost a fantasy to us. All of the houses were small and close together. We were all good friends, apart from with the Johnsons. They were horrible, though. My mum used to bake cakes and take them to our neighbours. And now she'll never do that again.

What are "not all filled with mystery and intrigue", exactly? Be specific. I'd also rephrase so that it says "DH seemed especially fantastical to us" or something, because the meaning isn't quite clear. I think you're trying to say that the catty behaviour of the DH was foreign to your family, in which case, it being "almost a fantasy" doesn't fit to me, since it's a TV show. If you see what I mean. Unless I'm wrong, in which case, ignore what I just said XD The transition from horrible Johnsons to baking cakes is a little rough because you take the time out to tell us they were horrible, then just jump back to what you were talking about before. Why do we need to know they were horrible? Perhaps your narrator could react to his(?) prior dislike of them in some way to flesh this out a bit.

To my mind, what happened wasn't that long ago. A few months, at most. It's been three years now, almost four. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. The memory is as clear as glass, and just as sharp. Mum was baking one of her famous cakes, and my baby sister Ellie was playing in the flour she had tipped on the floor. She looked like a ghost. That's how I remember her now. We heard the sound of a plane nearby, and then my world fell apart. Exploded, more like.

Too much focus on the length of time. I'd cut out the "A few months" part, as it's redundant, and a little too specific. I mean, I just don't think the narrator would be measuring the time so precisely, you know? It would read better as "To my mind, what happened wasn't that long ago. It's been three years, but I can still remember it like it was yesterday." Or something. I'm not sure I like the "exploded" line at the end. It's a good idea, but maybe it would be better incorporated with the previous sentence - e.g. "We heard the sound of a plane nearby, and then my world exploded." Or if you really want to be subtle, perhaps exchange "exploded" for "shattered," which is more ambiguous.

After that day, the people in our town and the ones that neighboured it, those that were still alive, shuffled away. The ones that could still walk, anyway. Anyone that couldn't was left behind to writhe in the debris and pray for a fast death. My town, thriving with life before that, became a ghost town. I left Ellie and my family where they were.

This is kind of awkwardly phrased. Try re-working the paragraph so that it's smoother, and the ideas don't seem to be repeated as much. Keep that last line, though. Very poignant.

I catch a glimpse of something under all of the rubble, and kneel, pushing aside unrecognisable chunks of my life to find it. Some glass opens a gash in my hand, but I don't try to stop the blood. I watch it flow for a few seconds, and then keep digging.

It's a photo of Ellie and Cindy, our dog. Cindy's jumping on Ellie and her hands are up in submission. Her mouth is open, but I can't tell if she's laughing or screaming.

She looks happy. And I remember that day, too. Like all the others, it feels like it just happened. Who knew that a coma could disconnect you from the world so fully, even if you wake? Sometimes I feels like I never did, like I'm still dreaming. Sometimes, I wish that was true.

Brilliant. Bravo.

I put the photo down. There's no point in dwelling in the past. Because after all, what's left of it is all around me, and there's only destruction, as far as I can see. It's amaizng. In just one day, everything you know can vanish. That should tell you something about the fragility of life.

"Amaizng" should be "amazing" XD

The doctors say that I don't have long left. A few years, if I'm lucky. Coming back here's probably shortened that. there's no way of telling; everyone was too afraid to see if the air was still poisonous.

"There's" should be, well, capitalized.

I had to come back, though, and put my ghosts to rest before I died. But the dull ache that used to reside within me has flared now, to become a stabbing pain in my heart. Maybe we're not meant to make peace. Maybe we're supposed to dwell on our regrets, our misgivings, until we die.

I brush some dust over the photo. "Rest in peace, Ellie. I'm sorry I couldn't take you with me." Dust covers the photo. I stand, and walk away.

...I thought dust had already covered the photo, since the narrator brushed some dust over it a few sentences ago? LOL might want to remove/replace that sentence.

Otherwise, I think it was well done. Emotional without being maudlin. As you said, very ambiguous in the setting, but it doesn't need to be precise as it allows the reader to imagine whatever they like XD Kudos

Cheers,
~bubbles

Thank you for that amazing crit, Bubbles. *hugs* I've tried to edit most of the stuff you said, and I think it's really made it better.

Now, just to edit it some more if I get more crits. I need to make it amazing for Cindy.

...Yes, I do realise that it's probably unhealthy.

I really loved this, though I'm a little confused? Nuclear bomb was it?

In any case, I thought it was wonderfully well written, and very emotional.

You know I mean only the best when I say that your first paragraph annoys me. It might be because in English we have been studying pieces that have more description than I thought humanely possible, but it works very well. I told you last night, and I feel the need to state it again.

Description of the setting in the first paragraph wouldn't go astray, because it doesn't feel very satisfying to read it, as empty as it is.

Sorry, but I had to say it.

I remember what it used to be like, before my world fell apart. They're not all filled with mystery and intrigue like TV and the movies would have you believe. Desperate Housewives seemed like it took place in an alien world. All of the houses were small and close together. We were all good friends, apart from with the Johnsons. They were horrible, though. My mum used to bake cakes and take them to our neighbours, except for them. And now she'll never do that again.

I was confused as to what "they're not all filled..." referred to. The small neighborhoods? The houses? What? And also, you should delete the "though" after "they were horrible" when referring to the Johnsons. It is unneeded and it confuses the sentence a little.

Anyway, nice story. It was kind of neat how you remained vague about the entire incident that made things this way, but the reader still gets the idea clearly.

Also, how did the picture survive so long? It appears to me that it would have been an extreme amount of luck that it survived whatever destroyed the town, a million in one chance that the speaker would actually find a picture, and a picture relating to them no less, undamaged under all the glass and rubble. It just seemed a little farfetched.

I liked this. You have a great imagination. This was touching...

~GryphonFledgling