My Brother Has A Gun #1

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I'm writing this story through a childs perspective, thats why it sounds like this. She is saying as a teen now to someone, I guess like a therapist(I think this is how to spell it), but as she tells it, she reverts back to saying it when she was seven(thats when it happend). Sooo... I hope you enjoy reading this and please comment on it!!!

The BOLD means she speaking to the therapist



My Brother Has A Gun


"Rilley, what are you doing?" asked my big brother Hayden, as he walked in my room. "I'm drawing me, Momma, Daddy, and you. It's for the art fair, Mrs. Landen sais that I'm her best student!" I said finishing the last touches, "Aaannnd... Done!" I shouted loud enough for the nieghbors to even hear me. I showed my brother, proud of my work, he looked at it then let out the loudest laugh ever. "Whats so funny?" I asked folding my arms over my drawing. "I'm sorry Rilley, it's just... that it really kinda looks like a dog... cat... horse thing" he said still laughing alittle. "No it doesn't!". What? I was six then, I was stubborn. I thought my brother was the greatest... I was proud tobe his little sister... Because I was HIS sister. "Rilley I'm sorry, hey, I'll help you draw another one before the art fair", he nudged me in the arm, "Kay". Hayden and I were so close back then, of course... that was eight years ago.

Two Years After The Art Fair

I woke up early that morning, I had to use the bathroom. When I was done I passed the mirror walking out, I stopped. My short brown hair was a mess, like always, my golden brown eyes were glowing to a sense. I looked different, well different from last year, I hated it, I ahted change. I was eight when I saw myself in that mirror, when I really saw the true me, I was different from the other kids. Because I understood. I left the bathroom and walked down the hall, my brother's bedroom door was cracked a little, I peaked in to see if he was still asleep. What I saw scarred me, I remember every detail about it, which way his bed was facing, what sheets were on his bed, what he was wearing. What I saw was something that changed my life forever, I would never be the same again. I saw him, standing on the bed, something was in his hand, then I knew it, he was holding a gun.


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okay I know it sucks that I didn't finish this part, but I think I will wait awhile untill I make the next, just to see how well it works.




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This is basically good. The end left a little to be desired. What did he do with the gun? Commit suicide? Kill somebody? Just the fact that he had a gun, and that he was holding it, isn't neccesarily bad. You need to follow through a little more if you want that effect. Perhaps say something like, 'She had never seen him with one before', or 'she knew that her parents wouldn't allow him to have possession of one'. Something like that. 'Cause my brother has guns, and to see him holding one, would not strike fear in my heart.
I hope this helps! :) This has a lot of potential, I think.
-Sometimes-
"I do not believe an author has truly succeeded unless or until he has caused his readers to laugh and to weep."
-Anonymous




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Hey, moon14!

Ooh, this looks like it could turn out to be a pretty awesome story. I love the idea of starting with her memories as a kid--kids are a lot of fun to do with traumatic things, just because they tell it like it is. It makes the whole situation a lot scarier.

At the moment, though, your format is a little confusing. You might just want to stick to telling the story in real time--the therapist is a cool idea, but it's hard to do and tends to be overdone. It'd be a lot easier (and more original) to just leave it as her memories without commentary. That way, you have a lot more room for showing vs. telling. If you could show us how she felt about her brother, the narrative will be a lot stronger and you won't have to use codes or scripts to get your point across.

___

Sorry for such a short comment! I do want more, though, so PM me if you have any questions or when you have the next bit up. ^_^
Graffiti is the most passionate form of literature there is.

- Demetri Martin




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okay thanks guys, i will definatly edit this soon but i'm kinda busy. but thanks for your reviews




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Hey October Fall,
I really liked this story, it was a bit on the short side though. I'm dying to know what happens next so please post more soon. It could turn out to be a brilliant story!
C.C
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid, and deeds left undone.




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This story seems like it could turn into something awesome. I cant wait to read the next part to it!



We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind