Young Writers Society

**This needs help. Alot. I HATE the title, so if anyone can help with that, many thanks to you! **


I remember his strong arms that would wrap me in a hug when I needed it most. I remember his unusual green, hazel, blue eyes that would capture my interest for hours. I remember his big grin, his cute dimples and his hearty laugh that would ring in my heart. I remember the days he showed up unexpectedly with beautiful bouquets. I remember the picnics, the soft kisses, the romantic moments that would have made an audience go Awwww. I remember wondering what I did to deserve such an angel.
I remember it all.

I also remember the accident that took it all away. The rain pounded down relentlessly, obscuring his sight and the sight of drivers around him. The glaring digital clock on his dashboard gleamed 7:47 and the tiny voice blaring out of his radio warned drivers from driving in this weather and urged everyone to stay indoors. The forest green Jeep was doing remarkably well in the conditions, the windshield wipers on overload. Yet, it wasn't good enough. He hydroplaned down Route 17 on his way to pick me up for our anniversary date, crashing into a white Sedan, where a family of four were discussing vacation plans. He didn't panic at first, he tried to turn the car in any direction, away from the impeding doom of the large wall directly ahead of him. The flowers and chocolate he had bought had scattered all around. He slammed down on the brakes in a vain attempt to stop the car. The car swerved and for a small second he believed he might be able to brake and get out unscathed. The second didn't last very long.

He was rushed into surgery the minute the paramedics arrived. He was unconscious and his heartbeat was very weak but he was still alive. He had major trauma to the head and both legs were broken. Numerous cuts and bruises but those were unimportant compared to the mass of scarlet red blood dripping out of his head, onto his black and white tuxedo. I arrived with tears flowing down my face faster than the Niagara Falls. The paramedics wouldn't let me in to see him on the "fact" that I wasn't family. How would they have known that he was planning on bringing me into his family just that night? How would they have known a gleaming diamond ring in a perfect little black box lay rested in the locked glove compartment of the wrecked car? They didn't know so I was forced out by security screaming his name.

I sat in the waiting room and sobbed, ignoring the pitiful looks of the others around me. I twisted the promise ring around my fingers, remembering the night he gave it to me. That did nothing to comfort me and I cried more still. The room was decorated with shocking pink hearts and red roses hanging from the ceiling. There was a big sign at the entrance reading Happy Valentines Day. Were these doctors heartless and insane? Do they not see the sick irony that at the surgery and heart attack wing of the hospital they put up Valentines Day decorations? At one point, a nurse came to me with a box of tissues but I ignored her.

When his mother came in and saw me her face turned ghost white and she sat next to me, her face blank. She was in shock and the tears would come later. His father hurried into the surgery room and came out a little bit later, his mouth open a little.

"He's comatose. They said that his brain's a vegetable. They said he'll never wake."

I mentally collapsed. I ran, screaming through the double doors, pushing past the mass of doctors and nurses. They all had permanent worry lines and their eyes were dull. I ran into his room and when I saw his limp body, the legs in casts and the endless amount of cuts and bruises, I physically collapsed but a faceless doctor held me up.

I was admitted for shock for two days. I was not allowed to visit him and I had an IV tube up my arm. The nurse had to change the pillow repeatedly because they became too damp with my tears.

When I was released I was a shell of my former self. I was called to pick up the Jeep from the mechanic. When I saw it, all gleaming perfect and shiny new, I grabbed the nearest crowbar and mutilated it. The workmen just stood back and watched, mouths open, as the pretty lady with limp, ragged brown hair and fiery green eyes slammed the crow bar into the windows and trunk of the car that took them two days to fix up.

When I saw the Jeep as clean and normal as it was before, my heart broke because I knew he would never be that way again. Each strike of the crow bar, symbolized a memory of a sweet thing he had done. The cold winter air seeped through my body and cooled my boiling blood yet froze my heart and made me as evil and frigid as it was.

I was greeted with over 20 messages on the answer machine when I got home. I deleted them all without even listening and fell on my bed, cowering under the warm sheets. The other side of the bed was as empty as I was.

Family and friends visited each with their own choreographed speech on how sorry they were, and what a shame it was but I blocked it all out. I wasn't there. This hadn't happened. I was back to the picnic at Central Park where he told me he loved me for the first time or back to July 4th at Six Flags where I rode the Batman ride and held his hand the whole way. I wasn't being called over and over by my parents, I wasn't hearing the whisper, whisper from my co-workers when I went in to ask for a break from the boss.
I definitely wasn't waking up screaming and crying, praying that this hadn't happened.

I wished I could say I visited every day and sat at his side every night but I didn't. I never visited, I never wanted to look at his blank, unseeing face. I didn't want to smell the scent of the antiseptic and bleach. I didn't want to see the faces of other crying wives who as I did, twist the rings promising love till death do them part.

I lay on my bed, standing only to use the bathroom and eat. After months and months of crying, my voice was hoarse and raspy and I could only whisper. I never watched TV or checked my email.

Remarkably, I wasn't fired for my boss had a kind heart. Since I was vice president of the company and had been working with them for over 4 years, she gave me paid leave for about 4 months. After I showed no sign of returning, she called up and told my voicemail that she decided to change it to unpaid leave but whenever I was ready to go back to work I would be accepted and that I should call her.

Many people said that. Over time, my voicemail was filled to the brim with messages from people telling me to call them back. I deleted them all and soon the calls stopped. Close family came to visit occasionally, pressing little envelopes into my hands to pay the bills with. I didn't want money. I wanted him.

I was an empty invalid in the mass of nothing that had become my life.





8 months later


I woke dazily, looking around the room. With a sudden epiphany, I realized that this was the first night in months that I hadn't woken with tears drying on my face. I turned my pillow so it was on the cold side and seeped into the Comfort Pedic material. After a couple of minutes of laying numbly, I did something I haven't done in about a year. I looked around for the remote, found it under the bed, swept off the dust bunnies and turned on the television.

The voice of the newscaster hurt my ears from the months and months of hearing nothing but my sniffling and the occasional bird outside my window. She wasn't even that loud yet I still contemplated turning it off.

I listened to what she was saying and looked up at the screen.

"As you may know, Valentines day is one of the most romantic days of the year, so this is why, according to statistics, over 1 million couples in America are getting married or engaged today. Those caterers have a lot of work! Now off to Arnold with the weather. Arnold?"

I felt like puking. It had been a year. A whole year...and I hadn't been to see him even once. I figured it was pretty ironical that I have my comeback exactly one year from the accident.

My mind tried to wrap around the concept. 365 days ago on a cold winter night, a young handsome man in a ripped up tuxedo had been brought into the ER and was diagnosed with a coma. 365 days ago, my perfect romantic world had crashed down around me and as much as people tried, the only person who could fix it was brain-dead on a hospital bed.

With sudden urgency, I rushed off the bed and ran into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth rapidly. I picked out the nicest outfit I had and grabbed my car keys and wallet. I ignored the pangs of hunger and practically ran out to the garage, ignoring the shocked looks of the desk man and doorman.

I didn't even know what I was doing. How was this day any different from any other? Those thoughts didn't even slow me down and I almost collided into the garage door on the way out.

Traffic was light so I got to the hospital in record time. The nurse at the desk was patient with me, yet infuriating.

Where was my I.D? Who would I like to see today? Oh...alright, room 23 on floor 8, happy valentines day!

The elevator took too long to come so I sped up the stairs, scaring many a doctor and nurse who crossed my path. The tired looking nurse walked me to his room and whispered something about Valentines day. I just waited for her to leave and finally she reluctantly walked away, looking back at me every couple of steps.

I looked at the door handle. The shiny, silver door handle. I could step back, walk away and ignore the pitiful looks from the nurse. Or I could twist and push it and be plopped in a room of the unknown.

I chose the latter. I closed my eyes, pushed the heavy, metal door and was startled to see the mass of machines, each explaining things I would never understand. I didn't look at him yet, but noticed the heart beat machine, with the steady zigzagging lines and the beeps it kept making.

I shut my eyes tight, turned to where he lay and peeked out. He looked innocent in sleep. I slowly walked to him and sat in the cold metal chair beside the bed. I tentatively put my hand to his face and traced the long scar that he had acquired that night. I just sat there for over 3 hours, tracing that scar over and over until the nurse came and told me visiting hours were over.

I wish I could tell you that as I was leaving, I kissed him goodbye and like Sleeping Beauty, his eyes opened and he jumped up and proposed to me. I wish I could tell you that I was completely myself again after that year long depression. I wish I could tell you everything worked out and we all lived happily ever after. But it didn't. That's just not how life works.

I left the hospital that day and visited every day after, trying to make up for lost time, even though it was months before he showed a sign of improvement. I am more pessimistic and get melancholy easier. Even though everything didn't work out at that moment, I rekindled my relationships with my friends and family and was back to my job in another month. After two long years, after that accident, he woke up.

We married February 14, 2014.

I guess life has a funny way of working out.

Hey jas!
Here to review

I remember his strong arms that would wrap me in a hug when I needed it most. I remember his unusual green, hazel, blue eyes that would capture my interest for hours. I remember his big grin, his cute dimples and his hearty laugh that would ring in my heart. I remember the days he showed up unexpectedly with beautiful bouquets. I remember the picnics, the soft kisses, the romantic moments that would have made an audience go Awwww. I remember wondering what I did to deserve such an angel. I really liked this descriptive opening.

I remember it all.

I also remember the accident that took it all away. The rain pounded down relentlessly, obscuring his sight and the sight of drivers around him. The glaring digital clock on his dashboard gleamed 7:47 and the tiny voice blaring out of his radio warned drivers from driving in this weather and urged everyone to stay indoors. This sentence is a bit long. Maybe you could shorten it into two sentences? The forest green Jeep was doing remarkably well in the conditions, the windshield wipers on overload. Yet, it wasn't good enough. He hydroplaned down Route 17 on his way to pick me up for our anniversary date, crashing into a white Sedan, where a family of four were discussing vacation plans. He didn't panic at first, he tried to turn the car in any direction, away from the impeding doom of the large wall directly ahead of him. The flowers and chocolate he had bought had scattered all around. He slammed down on the brakes in a vain attempt to stop the car. The car swerved, and for a small second, he believed he might be able to brake and get out unscathed. That second didn't last very long.

He was rushed into surgery the minute the paramedics arrived. He was unconscious and his heartbeat was very weak, but he was still alive. He had major trauma to the head and both legs were broken. Numerous cuts and bruises but those were unimportant compared to the mass of scarlet red blood dripping out of his head, onto his black and white tuxedo. I arrived with tears flowing down my face faster than the Niagara Falls. The paramedics wouldn't let me in to see him on the "fact" that I wasn't family. How would they have known that he was planning on bringing me into his family just that night? How would they have known a gleaming diamond ring in a perfect little black box lay rested in the locked glove compartment of the wrecked car? They didn't know; so I was forced out by security screaming his name.

I sat in the waiting room and sobbed, ignoring the pitiful looks of the others around me. I twisted the promise ring around my fingers, remembering the night he gave it to me. That did nothing to comfort me and I cried more still. The room was decorated with shocking pink hearts and red roses hanging from the ceiling. There was a big sign at the entrance reading Happy Valentines Day. That would be horrible...! Were these doctors heartless and insane? Do they not see the sick irony that at the surgery and heart attack wing of the hospital they put up Valentines Day decorations? At one point, a nurse came to me with a box of tissues, but I ignored her.

When his mother came in and saw me, her face turned ghost white and she sat next to me, her face blank. I don't think that you really need this here. She was in shock and the tears would come later. His father hurried into the surgery room and came out a little bit later, his mouth open a little.

"He's comatose. They said that his brain's a vegetable. They said I don't really like the repetition of 'They said' here. he'll never wake."

I mentally collapsed. I ran, screaming through the double doors, pushing past the mass of doctors and nurses. They all had permanent worry lines and their eyes were dull. I ran into his room and when I saw his limp body, the legs in casts and the endless amount of cuts and bruises, I physically collapsed but a faceless doctor held me up. Once again, this sentence was a bit too long!

I was admitted for shock for two days. I was not allowed to visit him and I had an IV tube up my arm. The nurse had to change the pillow repeatedly because they became too damp with my tears. I think that you could have described your MC's time in the hospital.

When I was released, I was a shell of my former self. I was called to pick up the Jeep from the mechanic. When I saw it, all gleaming perfect and shiny new, I grabbed the nearest crowbar and mutilated it. The workmen just stood back and watched, mouths open, as the pretty lady with limp, ragged brown hair and fiery green eyes I like your description of your MC here. slammed the crow bar into the windows and trunk of the car that took them two days to fix up.

When I saw the Jeep as clean and normal as it was before, my heart broke because I knew he would never be that way again. Each strike of the crow bar, You don't really need a comma here! symbolized a memory of a sweet thing he had done. The cold winter air seeped through my body and cooled my boiling blood, yet froze my heart and made me as evil and frigid as it was.

I was greeted with over 20 messages on the answer machine when I got home. I deleted them all without even listening and fell on my bed, cowering under the warm sheets. The other side of the bed was as empty as I was.

Family and friends visited each with their own choreographed speech on how sorry they were, and what a shame it was; but I blocked it all out. I wasn't there. This hadn't happened. I was back to the picnic at Central Park where he told me he loved me for the first time or back to July 4th at Six Flags where I rode the Batman ride and held his hand the whole way. This sentence is a bit long again, try adding some commas and periods. I wasn't being called over and over by my parents, I wasn't hearing the whisper, whisper from my co-workers when I went in to ask for a break from the boss.

I definitely wasn't waking up screaming and crying, praying that this hadn't happened.

I wished I could say I visited every day and sat at his side every night, but I didn't. I never visited, I never wanted to look at his blank, unseeing face. I didn't want to smell the scent of the antiseptic and bleach. I didn't want to see the faces of other crying wives who as I did, twist the rings promising love till death do them part.

I lay on my bed, standing only to use the bathroom and eat. After months and months of crying, my voice was hoarse and raspy and I could only whisper. I never watched TV or checked my email.

Remarkably, I wasn't fired for my boss had a kind heart. Since I was vice president of the company and had been working with them for over 4 years, she gave me paid leave for about 4 months. After I showed no sign of returning, she called up and told my voicemail that she decided to change it to unpaid leave but whenever I was ready to go back to work I would be accepted and that I should call her.

Many people said that. Over time, my voicemail was filled to the brim with messages from people telling me to call them back. I deleted them all and soon the calls stopped. Close family came to visit occasionally, pressing little envelopes into my hands to pay the bills with. I didn't want money. I wanted him.

I was an empty invalid in the mass of nothing that had become my life. I liked this!





8 months later



I woke dazily, looking around the room. With a sudden epiphany, I realized that this was the first night in months that I hadn't woken with tears drying on my face. I turned my pillow so it was on the cold side and seeped into the Comfort Pedic material. After a couple of minutes of laying numbly, I did something I hadn't done in about a year. I looked around for the remote, found it under the bed, swept off the dust bunnies and turned on the television.

The voice of the newscaster hurt my ears from the months and months of hearing nothing but my sniffling and the occasional bird outside my window. She wasn't even that loud; yet I still contemplated turning it off.

I listened to what she was saying and looked up at the screen.

"As you may know, Valentines day is one of the most romantic days of the year, so this is why, according to statistics, over 1 million couples in America are getting married or engaged today. Another long sentence! Those caterers have a lot of work! Now off to Arnold with the weather. Arnold?"

I felt like puking. It had been a year. A whole year...and I hadn't been to see him even once. I figured it was pretty ironical that I have my comeback exactly one year from the accident.

My mind tried to wrap around the concept. 365 days ago on a cold winter night, a young handsome man in a ripped up tuxedo had been brought into the ER and was diagnosed with a coma. 365 days ago, my perfect romantic world had crashed down around me and as much as people tried, the only person who could fix it was brain-dead on a hospital bed.

With sudden urgency, I rushed off the bed and ran into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth rapidly. I picked out the nicest outfit I had and grabbed my car keys and wallet. I ignored the pangs of hunger and practically ran out to the garage, ignoring the shocked looks of the desk man and doorman.

I didn't even know what I was doing. How was this day any different from any other? Those thoughts didn't even slow me down and I almost collided into the garage door on the way out.

Traffic was light so I got to the hospital in record time. The nurse at the desk was patient with me, yet infuriating.

Where was my I.D? Who would I like to see today? Oh...alright, room 23 on floor 8, happy valentines day!

The elevator took too long to come so I sped up the stairs, scaring many a doctor and nurse who crossed my path. The tired looking nurse walked me to his room and whispered something about Valentines day. I just waited for her to leave and finally she reluctantly walked away, looking back at me every couple of steps.

I looked at the door handle. The shiny, silver door handle. I could step back, walk away and ignore the pitiful looks from the nurse. Or I could twist and push it and be plopped into a room of the unknown.

I chose the latter. I closed my eyes, pushed the heavy, metal door and was startled to see the mass of machines, each explaining things I would never understand. I didn't look at him yet, but noticed the heart beat machine, with the steady zigzagging lines and the beeps it kept making.

I shut my eyes tight and turned to where he lay and peeked out. He looked innocent in sleep. I slowly walked to him and sat in the cold metal chair beside the bed. I tentatively put my hand to his face and traced the long scar that he had acquired that night. I just sat there for over 3 hours, tracing that scar over and over until the nurse came and told me visiting hours were over.

I wish I could tell you that as I was leaving, I kissed him goodbye and like Sleeping Beauty, his eyes opened and he jumped up and proposed to me. I wish I could tell you that I was completely myself again after that year long depression. I wish I could tell you everything worked out and we all lived happily ever after. But it didn't. That's just not how life works. This paragraph made me sad!

I left the hospital that day and visited every day after, trying to make up for lost time; even though it was months before he showed a sign of improvement. I am more pessimistic and get melancholy easier. Even though everything didn't work out at that moment, I rekindled my relationships with my friends and family and was back to my job in another month. After two long years, after that accident, he woke up.

We married February 14, 2014.

I guess life has a funny way of working out. Sweet ending!

This was pretty good! I adored some of your descriptions. It was well written as well, I like your style. It kind of reminds me of my own writing style!

Although it was well written, it didn't really make me feel that much. I can't really say why, I just didn't feel that connected to your MC. I think it was partly because you have a tendency to go through things quickly, without really describing much. When you do use description though, it's very good!

Also, you tend to stretch sentences out a bit too much. You make them longer than they really should be. It's not to hard to fix though, you just need to replace some of the commas with periods and semi colons.

Overall, I was definitely glad I read this! I especially liked the idea of the story, it was nice but also kind of sad.

All you need to do is consider what I've said and see what you can come up with! If you want an other review, just post in my WRFF thread.

P.S I personally, I like the title

Keep writing!

xoxo Skins

jasminebells wrote:**


I remember his strong arms that would wrap me in a hug when I needed it most. I remember his unusual green, hazel, blue eyes that would capture my interest for hours. I remember his big grin, his cute dimples and his hearty laugh that would ring in my heart. I remember the days he showed up unexpectedly with beautiful bouquets. I remember the picnics, the soft kisses, the romantic moments that would have made an audience go Awwww. I remember wondering what I did to deserve such an angel.
I remember it all. This is a really really good first paragraph!

I also remember the accident that took it all away. The rain pounded down relentlessly, obscuring his sight and the sight of drivers around him. The glaring digital clock on his dashboard gleamed 7:47 and the tiny voice blaring out of his radio warned drivers from driving in this weather and urged everyone to stay indoors. The forest green Jeep was doing remarkably well in the conditions, the windshield wipers on overload. Yet, it wasn't good enough. He hydroplaned down Route 17 on his way to pick me up for our anniversary date, crashing into a white Sedan, where a family of four were discussing vacation plans. He didn't panic at first, he tried to turn the car in any direction, away from the impeding doom of the large wall directly ahead of him. The flowers and chocolate he had bought had scattered all around. He slammed down on the brakes in a vain attempt to stop the car. The car swerved and for a small second he believed he might be able to brake and get out unscathed. The second didn't last very long.

He was rushed into surgery the minute the paramedics arrived. He was unconscious and his heartbeat was very weak but he was still alive. He had major trauma to the head and both legs were broken. Numerous cuts and bruises but those were unimportant compared to the mass of scarlet red blood dripping out of his head, onto his black and white tuxedo. I arrived with tears flowing down my face faster than the Niagara Falls. The paramedics wouldn't let me in to see him on the "fact" that I wasn't family. How would they have known that he was planning on bringing me into his family just that night? How would they have known a gleaming diamond ring in a perfect little black box lay rested in the locked glove compartment of the wrecked car? They didn't know so I was forced out by security screaming his name.

I sat in the waiting room and sobbed, ignoring the pitiful looks of the others around me. I twisted the promise ring around my fingers, remembering the night he gave it to me. That did nothing to comfort me and I cried more still. The room was decorated with shocking pink hearts and red roses hanging from the ceiling. There was a big sign at the entrance reading Happy Valentines Day. Were these doctors heartless and insane? Do they not see the sick irony that at the surgery and heart attack wing of the hospital they put up Valentines Day decorations? At one point, a nurse came to me with a box of tissues but I ignored her.

When his mother came in and saw me her face turned ghost white and she sat next to me, her face blank.Hmm...too long. shorten it up and you could probably take the last part out She was in shock and the tears would come later. His father hurried into the surgery room and came out a little bit later, his mouth open a little.

"He's comatose. They said that his brain's a vegetable. They said he'll never wake."

I mentally collapsed. I ran, screaming through the double doors, pushing past the mass of doctors and nurses. They all had permanent worry lines and their eyes were dull. I ran into his room and when I saw his limp body, the legs in casts and the endless amount of cuts and bruises, I physically collapsed but a faceless doctor held me up.

I was admitted for shock for two days. I was not allowed to visit him and I had an IV tube up my arm. The nurse had to change the pillow repeatedly because they became too damp with my tears.

When I was released I was a shell of my former self. I was called to pick up the Jeep from the mechanic. When I saw it, all gleaming perfect and shiny new, I grabbed the nearest crowbar and mutilated it. The workmen just stood back and watched, mouths open, as the pretty lady with limp, ragged brown hair and fiery green eyes slammed the crow bar into the windows and trunk of the car that took them two days to fix up.This was sad and funny, funny because I can just imagine the look on the poor workmen's face...sad in every other aspect.

When I saw the Jeep as clean and normal as it was before, my heart broke because I knew he would never be that way again. Each strike of the crow bar, symbolized a memory of a sweet thing he had done. The cold winter air seeped through my body and cooled my boiling blood yet froze my heart and made me as evil and frigid as it was.

I was greeted with over 20 messages on the answer machine when I got home. I deleted them all without even listening and fell on my bed, cowering under the warm sheets. The other side of the bed was as empty as I was.

Family and friends visited each with their own choreographed speech on how sorry they were, and what a shame it was but I blocked it all out. I wasn't there. This hadn't happened. I was back to the picnic at Central Park where he told me he loved me for the first time or back to July 4th at Six Flags where I rode the Batman ride and held his hand the whole way. I wasn't being called over and over by my parents, I wasn't hearing the whisper, whisper from my co-workers when I went in to ask for a break from the boss.
I definitely wasn't waking up screaming and crying, praying that this hadn't happened.

I wished I could say I visited every day and sat at his side every night but I didn't. I never visited, I never wanted to look at his blank, unseeing face. I didn't want to smell the scent of the antiseptic and bleach. I didn't want to see the faces of other crying wives who as I did, twist the rings promising love till death do them part.

I lay on my bed, standing only to use the bathroom and eat. After months and months of crying, my voice was hoarse and raspy and I could only whisper. I never watched TV or checked my email.

Remarkably, I wasn't fired for my boss had a kind heart. Since I was vice president of the company and had been working with them for over 4 years, she gave me paid leave for about 4 months. After I showed no sign of returning, she called up and told my voicemail that she decided to change it to unpaid leave but whenever I was ready to go back to work I would be accepted and that I should call her.

Many people said that. Over time, my voicemail was filled to the brim with messages from people telling me to call them back. I deleted them all and soon the calls stopped. Close family came to visit occasionally, pressing little envelopes into my hands to pay the bills with. I didn't want money. I wanted him.

I was an empty invalid in the mass of nothing that had become my life.





8 months later


I woke dazily, looking around the room. With a sudden epiphany, I realized that this was the first night in months that I hadn't woken with tears drying on my face. I turned my pillow so it was on the cold side and seeped into the Comfort Pedic material. After a couple of minutes of laying numbly, I did something I haven't done in about a year. I looked around for the remote, found it under the bed, swept off the dust bunnies and turned on the television.

The voice of the newscaster hurt my ears from the months and months of hearing nothing but my sniffling and the occasional bird outside my window. She wasn't even that loud yet I still contemplated turning it off.

I listened to what she was saying and looked up at the screen.

"As you may know, Valentines day is one of the most romantic days of the year, so this is why, according to statistics, over 1 million couples in America are getting married or engaged today. Those caterers have a lot of work! Now off to Arnold with the weather. Arnold?"

I felt like puking. It had been a year. A whole year...and I hadn't been to see him even once. I figured it was pretty ironical that I have my comeback exactly one year from the accident.

My mind tried to wrap around the concept. 365 days ago on a cold winter night, a young handsome man in a ripped up tuxedo had been brought into the ER and was diagnosed with a coma. 365 days ago, my perfect romantic world had crashed down around me and as much as people tried, the only person who could fix it was brain-dead on a hospital bed.

With sudden urgency, I rushed off the bed and ran into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth rapidly. I picked out the nicest outfit I had and grabbed my car keys and wallet. I ignored the pangs of hunger and practically ran out to the garage, ignoring the shocked looks of the desk man and doorman.

I didn't even know what I was doing. How was this day any different from any other? Those thoughts didn't even slow me down and I almost collided into the garage door on the way out.

Traffic was light so I got to the hospital in record time. The nurse at the desk was patient with me, yet infuriating.

Where was my I.D? Who would I like to see today? Oh...alright, room 23 on floor 8, happy valentines day! Psst...Capital V and D!

The elevator took too long to come so I sped up the stairs, scaring many a doctor and nurse who crossed my path. The tired looking nurse walked me to his room and whispered something about Valentine's day Capital D...I think.... I just waited for her to leave and finally she reluctantly walked away, looking back at me every couple of steps.

I looked at the door handle. The shiny, silver door handle. I could step back, walk away and ignore the pitiful looks from the nurse. Or I could twist and push it and be plopped in a room of the unknown.

I chose the latter. I closed my eyes, pushed the heavy, metal door and was startled to see the mass of machines, each explaining things I would never understand. I didn't look at him yet, but noticed the heart beat machine, with the steady zigzagging lines and the beeps it kept making.

I shut my eyes tight, turned to where he lay and peeked out. He looked innocent in sleep. I slowly walked to him and sat in the cold metal chair beside the bed. I tentatively put my hand to his face and traced the long scar that he had acquired that night. I just sat there for over 3 hours, tracing that scar over and over until the nurse came and told me visiting hours were over.

I wish I could tell you that as I was leaving, I kissed him goodbye and like Sleeping Beauty, his eyes opened and he jumped up and proposed to me. I wish I could tell you that I was completely myself again after that year long depression. I wish I could tell you everything worked out and we all lived happily ever after. But it didn't. That's just not how life works.

I left the hospital that day and visited every day after, trying to make up for lost time, even though it was months before he showed a sign of improvement. I am more pessimistic and get melancholy easier. Even though everything didn't work out at that moment, I rekindled my relationships with my friends and family and was back to my job in another month. After two long years, after that accident, he woke up.

We married February 14, 2014.

I guess life has a funny way of working out.

That was amazing!! I really liked the end. I was hoping he would wake up eventually... I loved it!! Keep writing!!

Hey Jas! Thanks for asking me to review .

Alright so the whole first paragraph kind of turned me away from reading, it was just so...cliche, and the repetition of "I remember" is a little annoying, so cut a few out, or reword it.

He hydroplaned down Route 17 on his way to pick me up for our anniversary date, crashing into a white Sedan, where a family of four were discussing vacation plans.

This confused me, did he hit the car? What happened to them, were they killed?

He didn't panic at first, he tried to turn the car in any direction, away from the impeding doom of the large wall directly ahead of him.

See at first I thought that he was going to hit the sedan and crash, but now you're talking about a wall?

The flowers and chocolate he had bought had scattered all around.

This brought my mind to he had like flipped the car or something and the flowers and chocolate were scattered all over the road. So you might want to say something about them being scattered in the car while he's swerving everywhere.

The second didn't last very long.

Good line .

I arrived with tears flowing down my face faster than the Niagara Falls.

This sounds really cheesy, try using something else besides Niagara Falls.

I ran, screaming through the double doors, pushing past the mass of doctors and nurses.

She's doing a lot of screaming...

I deleted them all without even listening and fell on my bed, cowering under the warm sheets.

Wouldn't they be cold, especially if she hasn't been home for two days, and it's winter?

The other side of the bed was as empty as I was.

Great line, I love it.

I figured it was pretty ironical

Ironic, not ironical.

365 days ago on a cold winter night, a young handsome man in a ripped up tuxedo had been brought into the ER and was diagnosed with a coma.

Saying that he was diagnosed with a coma, just doesn't sound right, consider rewording it.

I wish I could tell you that as I was leaving, I kissed him goodbye and like Sleeping Beauty, his eyes opened and he jumped up and proposed to me. I wish I could tell you that I was completely myself again after that year long depression. I wish I could tell you everything worked out and we all lived happily ever after. But it didn't. That's just not how life works.

This is what keeps it realistic, at first when I read that I though that that's what did happen, (I read really quickly and sometimes skip over bits by accident) and I love that you keep away from trying to be like a fairytale.

Even though everything didn't work out at that moment, I rekindled my relationships with my friends and family and was back to my job in another month. After two long years, after that accident, he woke up.

We married February 14, 2014.

I guess life has a funny way of working out.

I love that ending line, but this whole last part seems kind of rushed. I'd like to hear about when he wakes up, stuff like that. Add on to the end a little bit .

And as for a title...Valentines Day? I have no idea, I'm horrible at titles xD.


~Hope

OK first of all with my over active imagination I was able to form a picture of what was happening in your story fairly easily. But I'm able to conjure images even with dull wording, so any onto the bulk of your tale.

I remember his strong arms that would wrap me in a hug when I needed it most. I remember his unusual green, hazel, blue eyes that would capture my interest for hours. I remember his big grin, his cute dimples and his hearty laugh that would ring in my heart. I remember the days he showed up unexpectedly with beautiful bouquets. I remember the picnics, the soft kisses, the romantic moments that would have made an audience go Awwww. I remember wondering what I did to deserve such an angel.

What, does he have three eyes or something or does he just have a weird shade in his eyes? If it's the latter than try and get that point across in a less redundant way. And what's with the "strong arm" thing in the first sentence? I hate hearing that in literary works. Are females really fragile little creatures that men are like super beings? No, women have their own little attributes that give them formidable strength.

I also remember the accident that took it all away. The rain pounded down relentlessly, obscuring his sight and the sight of drivers around him. The glaring digital clock on his dashboard gleamed 7:47 and the tiny voice blaring out of his radio warned drivers from driving in this weather and urged everyone to stay indoors. The forest green Jeep was doing remarkably well in the conditions, the windshield wipers on overload. Yet, it wasn't good enough. He hydroplaned down Route 17 on his way to pick me up for our anniversary date, crashing into a white Sedan, where a family of four were discussing vacation plans. He didn't panic at first, he tried to turn the car in any direction, away from the impeding doom of the large wall directly ahead of him. The flowers and chocolate he had bought had scattered all around. He slammed down on the brakes in a vain attempt to stop the car. The car swerved and for a small second he believed he might be able to brake and get out unscathed. The second didn't last very long.

Like in the rest of your flashback you have many tense changes in this large chunky paragraph. The story whips back and forth from past to present during the same event.

I guess life has a funny way of working out.

The ending line was a big let down. It was just like, "Haha, things eventually work out in their due time."

Tragically that is often not the case for Earth's many inhabitants.

Overall:

I did not hate this piece. I found it quite easy to read. Yes there were several technical errors. Most of them were areas were you had missing commas. What I mean is that there are segments where there should be natural pauses. I was going to point a few examples out but I've now forgotten where they are.

Not bad Jasmine, not bad at all.

-

Aww I really liked this story and I don't think it needs as much help as you might think My favorite was that it wasn't the typical story, you did at first think that he was going to wake up the first time she visited him, but it took time to get to that happy ending.

So after my first reading, here's what jumped out at me (some of these comments are kind of random, but we all pick up on different stuff right?):

In the first paragraph you describe his eyes in a confusing way, I think it would make more sense if you reversed the description to read "...his ununsual eyes with green, hazel, and blue in them..."

Then, there is a lot of detail in how you describe the car accident (the road conditions, the time on the clock...), you did a GREAT job here, however, it made me very confused to find out that the main character wasn't with him in the car! All that time it was being described, I was imagining her sitting right there next to him. So in this case, it's the perspective. If we are hearing this from the main character's perspective, we have to know upfront that this description is what she is piecing together from what she learned after the fact. And the same goes with him being rushed to the hospital etc.

Another strange thing popped out at me...why exactly was she called to pick up his Jeep? Was it hers? Was she doing it as a favor to his family? I think you really struck a good emotional chord there by comparing the shiny, new car to his condition. Also, no one in my family's ever been in a really serious car crash (*knock on wood*) but if they were in the hospital and potentially going to be there for awhile, would they even have bothered to get the car fixed? I mean, would he ever drive it again? (That sounds gruesome, but true I think).

Random one-- you can't choregraph a speech, unless there is a lot of movement involved

Okay, last one, and this is a big one, but I think you need to plant a stronger seed of doubt in the readers' minds about the diagnosis of the car accident victim. When we are told that he is a brain dead and a vegetable...there is no recovering from that. I think in most cases, people end up pulling the plug (another gruesome, but true). If he's just in a coma, that could be very different. So I think you might just want to clarify that, because I thought it was gonna be a pretty different story in the second half...like she was going to say her final goodbye, before moving on.

I hope I've given you a lot to think about and good luck!

Hello!!! I wont bore you with more grammatical stuff because it looks like that's already been covered, but I do have a few pointers. Here we go!!
1.) When it said "8 Months Later" and then said it had been a year since the death of her boyfriend or fiance, then wouldn't it be one year later? Maybe it's just me and I'm confused.
2.) You have great detail, but I think you need to elaborate more. When she's in the hospital after the mother tells her he's braindead, you need to describe the pain that's in her heart and stuff like that. You see what I mean? It just makes your story more intresting, keeps your readers more intrested, and also gives your readers more of an understanding of the feelings and scenary.
3.) This is just my opinion, but at the beginning he pretty much automatically dies. We, the readers, don't really get to see the intensity of their relationship and the kind of love the two shared and that's definitely a major thing we need to see because if we see that, we as the readers, can feel more sympathy toward her when he dies.

Does this all make since?? If you have any questions feel free to P.M me. Overall it was a great, great, GREAT story and I loved it! Just a few things to think about!

-Sparkle8744