Roses

An old piece of mine. Think of each paragraph as their own miniature chapters. The abruptness is intentional. The lack of an identity is intentional. The lack of age and gender are intentional. The lack of reason: intentional. Hopefully, this clears up any and all misunderstandings.

Spoiler

I was in a place with roses abound, fragrant and red with petals as delicate as like the ones that Mama had always told stories about. I had to bring some to her. She would be happy that I brought her the flowers, and then I would ask her to read me the story again. I wrapped my hand around the stem of the flower, but felt a stinging pain as if I had grabbed a thousand needles. The rose had spikes around the stem, but regardless, I had to bring them to Mama. I grabbed the rose with both hands and, while enduring the pain, tugged the rose. The thorns were painful, and some of them tried to stay inside my arms, but I ripped them off my skin. Finally, the first rose was out. I’ll get ten for Mama, I thought and hesitantly proceeded onto the next flower.

With my bloodied and cut hands, I picked up all ten of the roses. I made sure I didn’t touch the delicate petals, and walked towards home. The thorns stabbed at my already torn palms and tempted me to drop them. I had to endure them, for Mama! My arms felt wet as blood trickled down them. I couldn’t stop. I’ll patch them up when I get home and deliver them to Mama. I stopped holding the roses with my hands and instead, wrapped my arms around them. That was a mistake as the thorns not only pierced my arms, but also through my shirt and into my chest, but I had to bring them to Mama…she would be happy!

I finally arrived at the front steps. My arms and body were scratched up and my shirt had holes. My jaw felt numb from it being clenched to keep from sobbing, but even through that, the tears fell through. It was worth it though. I made it home, and Mama would be happy to see me and the flowers. I held the rose bunch with one hand and tried to wipe my face with the other, but it only painted my face in my own blood. I reached the doorknob with my sticky hand, and twisted it open.

The first thing I heard was Mama’s cries. In front of me was Papa. He screamed at Mama, who was on the ground, and kicked her. I didn’t understand, and only stood there and stared with a terrified look as the blood on my arms dripped down onto the floor. Papa turned around and saw me. My legs turned into lead, and I couldn’t move as he stepped closer to me. He snatched my flowers from my hand--the thorns tore the skin away from my palms--and held them upside-down by the heads. He turned around, and hit Mama again and again with the thorny stems. My eyes widened as I followed every last petal down into the floor. I put my throbbing hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. The thorns on the stems defaced her, they slashed at her skin and clothing! Papa screamed at Mama again as she cried and clutched her face. Then, he turned to me, and clubbed me with the bent stems.

I fell onto the floor of blood and flower petals. It smelled of metal with a faint, sweet fragrance mixed in. I screamed. I screamed from the abuse, I screamed because of the pain in my arms, but most of all, I screamed for the flowers. They were supposed to make us happy, but only returned pain. The petals were stained with blood and the stems were thrown onto the ground with not a second thought. I couldn’t move. Everything hurt.

Hiya Bowie ^^ Shina here to do a review for you

An old piece of mine. Think of each paragraph as their own miniature chapters. The abruptness is intentional. The lack of an identity is intentional. The lack of age and gender are intentional. The lack of reason: intentional. Hopefully, this clears up any and all misunderstandings.

xD Hehe, you know, you're so funny. You always defend things in your writing. Do you mind posting later about why all this is intentional?

I. Nitpicks

I was in a place with roses abound, fragrant and red with petals as delicate as like the ones that Mama had always told stories about.

First line. Passive. Does that sound right to you? And on top of that, you describe the scenery, the SCENERY! And the scenery was roses.

Let's break it down, shall we?

You should make your hook active so it's not a drag to read through, and so it actually hooks the reader. Use "sit" or "lay" or some sort of verb.

Second, the roses, oh, the roses. Do you know how many stories use roses? Don't bother getting fancy with rose descriptions because there isn't much of a chance that it hasn't been done before. Try something new!

I had to bring some to her. She would be happy that I brought her the flowers, and then I would ask her to read me the story again.

He had to bring them to her because? She would be happy because? Your narrator is making this sound so plain. What's so cool about this story? He's just blabbing about his past, and I'm thinking save it for your diary.

I wrapped my hand around the stem of the flower, but felt a stinging pain as if I had grabbed a thousand needles.

Er, that's kind of dramatic, isn't it? They're already thorns, maybe one or two, so why compare them to a bunch of needles? You could just mention they pierced his fingers or made him bleed or something. Besides, why doesn't he just touch the non-thorny parts?

Wrapping your hand around a stem doesn't sound right. A rose is delicate and thin, you said that earlier, right? You'd have to take it carefully, not grab it like some maniac. Plus, your narrator gives off the "I'm so gentle" vibe.

The rose had spikes around the stem, but regardless, I had to bring them to Mama.

-.-" Oh, the irony. He should've known this already. Do your character some justice! He's not THAT dense, is he? Touch the smooth parts of the stem, will you?

I grabbed the rose with both hands and, while enduring the pain, tugged the rose.

Grab. Grab? Are you sure about that? Can't he take it with both hands? And I'm not even going to talk about how stupid he is for touching the torns on purpose. He needs to be more careful, otherwise, the rose is going to break or wilt or something.

The thorns were painful, and some of them tried to stay inside my arms, but I ripped them off my skin. Finally, the first rose was out. I’ll get ten for Mama, I thought and hesitantly proceeded onto the next flower.

Of course, he's a masochist. They're roses, Bowie, and the thorns will always be endured for their beauty.

With my bloodied and cut hands, I picked up all ten of the roses.

If they're bloody, doesn't that imply they're cut? You also mentioned he was picking roses.

The thorns stabbed at my already torn palms and tempted me to drop them.

O____o TORE? Jesus Christ, they're thorns not flesh-eaters.

I had to endure them, for Mama!

No exclamations unless it's dialogue, sir.

My arms felt wet as blood trickled down them. I couldn’t stop. I’ll patch them up when I get home and deliver them to Mama. I stopped holding the roses with my hands and instead, wrapped my arms around them. That was a mistake as the thorns not only pierced my arms, but also through my shirt and into my chest, but I had to bring them to Mama…she would be happy!

*coughs*Masochist*coughs* This is not believable. He could use a basket, and scissors exist, you know.

I finally arrived at the front steps. My arms and body were scratched up and my shirt had holes.

Sounds more like he was given to the sharks than the roses.

He turned around, and hit Mama again and again with the thorny stems.

So much drama, yeesh.

II. Overall

You have a pretty idea, but you're blew it over the top with drama. This is not your mother's Asian drama show you're writing. The roses were cliche and the descriptions decent. The main thing you need to work on is making this less dramatic and more realistic. If you're going to make him pick roses with his bare hands, at least explain why he's not using scissors or a basket. You also have too much repitition, which I assume you thought would emphasize the meaning of the story, but it really was too much.

More realistic, Bowie, okay?

At least your punctuation and grammar was good

PM if you need me!

-Shina

Hey there Bowie,

If I'm to treat these paragraphs as miniature chapters, then I must say, they are among the most boring, repetitive chapters I've come across. You really need to...I don't know. Make this interesting.

I was in a place with roses abound, fragrant and red with petals as delicate as like the ones that Mama had always told stories about.

Sweet Holy Batman! I think I can tell this is an old piece because that is a truly awful, awkward first sentence. First of all, I'm going to assume you mean 'around' not 'abound' -- if you mean 'abound' then you need to change 'with' to 'where'. Even then, the tenses are all screwed up.

'abound' is present tense. Thus, 'I was in a place with roses abound' is grammatically incorrect. And even if you meant:

'I was in a place with roses around'

It sill wouldn't work. Unless you added 'me' at the end -- and this is all just to make it grammatically correct. It would still be an awful sentence and I haven't gotten to the second bit yet.

fragrant and red with petals as delicate as like the ones that Mama had always told stories about

I'm a little dumbfounded to be honest. That's a tad horrifying. You need to scrap this entire sentence. But since I'm supposed to make this salvageable and suggest better ways, this is what you could do:

I was in a place with roses. They had fragrant red petals, just like the ones Mama always told stories about.

If I were you though, the best thing you could do for this story isn't just to redo this opening, it would be to write it in present tense. Make it active - as angels said - it'll give the piece an edge it sorely needs.

but felt a stinging pain as if I had grabbed a thousand needles

Psh. First off, you couldn't grab a thousand needles even if you wanted to, secondly, I'm absurdly positive that it would feel nothing like being pricked by a thorn. Which, by the by, really isn't all that bad. This is indicative of the major problem with your writing here -- it's overwrought and exaggerated to the point that any realism and consequently, impact, is lost.

Simplify. Less is more. Okay?

I made sure I didn’t touch the delicate petals, and walked towards home.

I had to endure them, for Mama!

Ick, cut. Excessive repetition does nothing for this story. Stop mentioning the thorns. We get it. The child is hurting itself in some demented craze in order to make it's abused mother happy - whatever, lay off already. Stop exaggerating, repeating, etc - the imagery (which could be beautiful) is lost when you do this.

That was a mistake as the thorns not only pierced my arms, but also through my shirt and into mychest. but I had to bring them to Mama…she would be happy!

Urgh, this is almost as bad as the first sentence.

I reached for the doorknob with my sticky hand, and twisted it open.

The first thing I heard was were Mama’s cries.

He snatched mytheflowers from my hand

The thorns on the stems defaced her, they slashed at her skin and clothing!

Get rid of that exclamation mark. It does not add anything. It never will. Drama must come from the scene itself. It's akin to you showing me this scene then screaming at me on top of it, saying, LOOK THIS IS DRAMATIC.

You do know that no matter how poetic you imagine this scene to be, that roses don't make for effective clubs, right? Because they really don't. Bamboo sticks on the other hand -- they hurt.

They were supposed to make us happy,but only returned pain

I would end on this note, if I were you. Your strengths I think are that you know what you want to do with a piece - there's a certain poetic flair to what you imagine - but it doesn't come through and it doesn't shine because you try to shove it down our throats. It's too overwrought. It's not realistic - re: what angels-symphony said. You need to cut back, pare it down. With the active simplicity I encourage, this could be a nifty little piece.

Have the little girl stop at the door, with the roses. Have them drop to the floor as she watches the abuse. Nothing more is needed. Everything else is ridiculous. The insistence on repeating everything - ridiculous. The thorns - ridiculous. The actual actions your following - good. So, I saw your blog and it's based on your insistence and apparent need for strong reviews that I decided to not hold back here. I think you can take it. And I think you're good enough to take this old piece and make it a whole lot better.

Cheers