My Friend Teno

Draft 2 :
I still remember most of what happened. Everytime I close my eyes I watch the memories from that night flash against my eyelids. Here and there, the details are starting to fade. I still remember it was really quiet and it was cold and I wanted to be anywhere but there. I remember there was a full moon. I remember I was scared.
“Hey, Javi, you okay? You sure you wanna do this for me?” asked Teno, looking back at me. His dark eyes were wide and searching. His hair was in cornrows and his black shirt blended in with the shadows.He was squated in front of me.
“Yeah, I'm sure,” I said, even though I wasn't. Teno shook his head as he turned to look back out across the freshly cut lawn. We were crouched in the shadows next to the right wall of the town hall building. From that position I could see the big, cement fountain in front. The water was shut off for the night. I fiddled with my necklace and could feel my fingers shaking. I looked at my watch: 3:07 A.M. I groaned.
“We've been waitin’ here for an hour already, when they gonna show?” I whispered. My leg was cramping due to the awkward position and I reached down to rub. Teno turned around.
“All you can do is complain, dog! Always! complaining ‘bout this, complaining ‘bout that. I swear sometimes, ya like a @#!*% girl,” said Teno. He paused for a second, then laughed. He punched my arm. I laughed, too. He was scrawny for a fifteen-year-old, but he could still pack a pretty strong punch.
“Shut up, Cabron,” I said, pulling back my fist to punch him back. I went for his shoulder, but stopped halfway there.
“Hey, there they are,” I whispered frantically, pulling Teno back with me, farther into the shadows. We carefully looked around the corner of the stone wall and saw five guys strutting across the lawn toward the fountain.
“Dang. Okay, stay here, a’ight? If ya see them lay a hand on me, run out and distract them enough fo’ me to get this,” he said, lifting up his shirt. I saw the outline of the gun against his skin. I remember being scared out of my mind, though I would never tell Teno that. What if they start shooting? What if they shoot him first. Then I’m gonna be standing out there with nothing to protect myself with. I told myself. Now, when I think back, I see just how selfish I was being. If he gets shot... My older brother, Enrique, had asked me if I wanted to borrow his piece, but I said no. Nice work, fool. Don't you wish you had that gun now? I thought to myself as all five of the guys leaned themselves against the side of the fountain.
“Here I go,” said Teno. He sounded nervous. I wished him good luck.
“I don’t need none of that, man.” he said as he slipped out of the shadows and into the light of the street lamps overhead. It reminded me of a time when we were eight. We had been playing "Cop vs. Villan" and Teno was the villan. I used my favorite quote from a movie : "Good luck in that court room. Your gonna need it," I told him after I'd "arrested" him.
"I don't need none a that, officer." he'd replied. He said it so real, like I was really the cop arresting him, the villan.
For the rest of that day, I thought of how cool that was of him to say. I always wanted to be as cool as Teno.

Teno was, now, walking across the lawn.
“Teno. Ya actually showed up?” said the biggest one. He was wearing a black t-shirt that was at least an extra-extra large and yet, seemed too tight on his chest. Teno went to stand in front of the him.
“W’sup, man?” asked Teno. He folded his arms across his chest with his chin tilted up, as if daring the world to come at him.
“Don’t play @#!*% with me, man. You know exactly whats goin’ on,” drawled Big Guy. One of the other guys stepped forward half a step. I remember his arms were huge.
“Nah, Ice. I don’t know. Y’all called me down here. So w’sup?” asked Teno again. He knew exactly what was up. Teno’s brother, Marcus, had squealed on a Ice's homeboy, Rinaldo.The story went that Rinaldo shot someone and Marcus was with him. Marcus was the last one seen near the crime scene and was arrested. The cops, or whoever, told him, that if he snitched on the shooter, he wouldn’t go to jail for as long. He snitched, and Rinaldo got picked up and sentenced to life in prison. Now, people were mad. Teno had been my best friend since we were five, and I wasn’t going to let him go through with this alone.
“I said don’t play with me!” yelled Ice. He stepped forward and so did all his goons. He grabbed Teno’s shoulder.
“Hey, Man!” said Teno, stumbling backward. He put his hand on his shirt where the gun was. I froze. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

Everything happened so fast. It was like I was watching everything in fast forward. One second, I saw Teno trip and fall to the ground. The next instant, three gunshots sounded out. I didn't even see when Ice pulled his gun. All I had been focused on was Teno. Then, it seemed like everyone froze. Ice and three of his guys were looking at the ground. Two were already speeding down the street. After a few moments, Ice and the rest started running, too. Then, I was running. I couldn't feel my feet. I couldn't feel anything as I raced across the grass. No!Please, God, not Teno! I yelled in my head. It felt like I'd ran a mile when I finally got to Teno. I knelt down next to him. He was gasping in air. Blood was flowing from three holes in his chest and the ground under him was turning a deep red color as his blood mixed with the dirt.
“No!” I yelled. I put my arm under Teno’s head.“Teno! Listen to me, Man! You can't do this! Think of yo’ family! Think of me! Don't leave me!” I couldn’t see through my tears. Teno reached up and grabbed my hand.
“I’m sorry, Javi,” he said, his voice wavering. He gasped. His eyes rolled back in his head. It was like something out of a movie. A horrible movie that only my worst nightmares could play.
No!" I whimpered, then looked around for someone. Anyone.“Somebody! HELP! Please help me!” I screamed, my voice going high at the end. I saw a guy in pajamas running towards me from one of the houses across the street. I faintly heard him ask what happened, then gasp. I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He knelt down, then pulled out a phone and started yelling out an address and that someone was shot.
“Hurry!” he yelled and then snapped the phone shut.”Stay with us, just a little bit longer, son.” he said to Teno. I could hear him saying something else, but my brain wasn’t letting the word click together in my head. I was still holding Teno’s hand.
“Man, please,” I whispered. I don’t remembered ever crying that hard. My emotions had taken over. The guy started feeling around for a pulse. He put his ear against Teno's chest, then sat up slowly and stared at down at Teno. I looked at him. There was a pained expression on his face.
"What?" I whispered. He looked over at me, his eyebrows furrowed. He didn't say anything. I didn't want him to.

I heard the ambulance before I saw it. I remember there was a cop car. Two people in white uniforms jumped out of the back of the ambulance and knelt down next to Teno feeling for a pulse, too. The guy from across the street told them he'd already done that. One sighed and shook his head, then stood up. They pulled Teno onto a stretcher and put a sheet over his head.
"Hey! He can't breathe with that over his face!" I yelled at them. They looked at each other, then back at me. One of them walked over to me slowly, then put his hand on my shoulder.
"I am very sorry. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but-"
"No!" I interupted. I didn't want to hear the rest. I turned and ran. I sprinted three blocks until I couldn't breathe anymore. I sat down on the curb. My lungs burned, my feet ached. I looked up as the ambulance passed me. I watched it until it turned the corner and went out of sight. Disappearing with my best friend.
I felt like running again. All I wanted to do was run; run away from that night and everything that had happened. But, reality had too strong a hold on my brain, and I knew I couldn't. I closed my eyes, hoping, praying that everything would go back. Before Teno got shot. All the way back to when we were young. When the only bad things that happened were nothing more than a broken arm or hurt feelings. My ears were ringing. My shoulders sagged. I stood up and stumbled across the street.

Somehow, I made it home. I stumbled in the door, and dragged myself to the room I shared with Enrique. I sat on my bed. I had forced the tears to stop. I felt weak as I looked around the room. M eyes rested on a framed photo on the opposite wall. It was of Teno and me after winning our first little league baseball game in fourth grade. We had one arm around eachother's shoulders, smiling as big as we could. I thought of how, back then, I never would have imagined something like this would ever happen. I thought of how Teno would never come over to hang out again, and how I would never hear one of his stupid jokes that weren't funny, but made me laugh just because of the way he told them. I would never stay out too late at his house again, talking with him about anything and everything. I would never even hear his voice again, or hear him laugh, or see his smile. I stood back up and went to the bathroom closing the door behind me and turning on the light. My hands were covered in Teno’s blood and my shirt was stained with it from leaning over him. In the mirror, I saw my eyes were swollen and red. I leaned on the sink. You didn’t run out to distract ‘em like you were supposed to! I yelled in my head. I leaned my forehead against the wall. I felt angry. I slammed my fist against the wall. I slid to my knees. I forced the tears back. I shoved the pain away. I punched the wall again, then again and again. After a while, my knuckles started to hurt and I started to calm down. I stood up unsteadily, my knees wobbily. I washed my face with cold water. I was dizzy as I walked out of the bathroom and ran right into my brother, who was standing in the hallway. He cussed.
“What happened, Man!? You okay?” he asked, reaching out to me.
“I‘m fine,” I mumbled.
“What’s with the blood, then?” he asked, confused.
“It‘s not mine. Teno got shot,” I sucked in a ragged breath of air.
“What!? Where he is!”
“Hospital I guess, " I choked. "They took him in a ambulance,” I said, as I watched images flash through my mind.
“Let’s go, then!” he said pushing me in front of him.I stumbled, but caught my balance. I could hear Enrique rush into our room. He came out pulling his shoes on.
“Let’s go,” Enrique said again as he grabbed the car keys. He threw a shirt at me."Put it on." he ordered.
"Rique," I said.
"Come on!" he said, louder.
"Rique, it's too late." I whispered. I stared at the floor. Seconds ticked by.
" @#!*% ." he finally said. He walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulder. I tried hard not to cry. " I know it hurts," he whispered. I looked up into his eyes. They were big and brown like mine, but full of things he'd seen in his eighteen years that I would never know. A tear fell down his cheek and I couldn't help it, then. I leaned onto my brothers shoulder and cried. He put his other arm around me.

I heard my mom walk out of her room. I looked over Enrique's shoulder at her. She had her hair in curlers. Her eyes were wide and wondering.
"W-what's going on?" she asked. Enrique let go of me and he walked toward my mom. He leaned down and I heard him whisper in her ear.
"Teno's dead." he said. His voice broke. He was hurting, too. My mom's hand flew to her mouth and she looked up at Enrique.
"What?" she said quietly, he didn't repeat it. She looked over at me. I was just watching. She walked quickly toward me and put her arms around me. This time, I held the tears back while she cried.


It was raining when I woke up the next morning. I didn't want to get up. I wished I could fall back asleep and stay like that forever. Enrique had already left. I sat up and my head was throbbing. I lay back down and looked around the room. I saw the picture of me and Teno again. I stood up and yanked it off the nail in the wall. I sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at it for a while. Teno's soft, happy brown eyes stared up at me. I would never see those again. I carefully placed the picture under my mattress, then curled up under my covers where I stayed until the funeral, a couple days later. I walked into the packed funeral home that smelled like roses. I looked around and saw people who hadn't even known Teno that were crying. I saw Marcus sitting in the back with his head in his hands. I figured they must have let him out of jail for the funeral. I also saw the guy that had ran across the street that night to help. I went over to sit next to Teno’s mom. She reached over and held my hand.
“Felipe ‘Teno’ Gonzales Martinez, born September 5th, 1992 to Eva Gonzales and Juan Martinez. A loving brother, son, and friend whose life was taken on the tragic night of May 27th, 2008 at the young age of fifteen. We grieve in the fact that he was so young, and human nature would want us to hate the people who did this, but God does not want that. ‘Vengeance is mine! I will repay, saith the Lord!'. These people will be punished, but only when God wants them to be...,” said the Pastor. I knew God would get them, but I still hated them. I never went up to look into the casket. I wanted to remember Teno how he used to be.

After the service, I found Enrique and my mom, and we left. I skipped the whole week of school. Everything was different. Waking up in the morning was harder. Eating was almost impossible. Sleeping WAS impossible. When I did return to school, everyone watched me, waiting for something to happen; anything. Everything reminded me of Teno. My locker still had some of his things in it. The classes I shared with him seemed empty. Even the halls, buzzing with all our old friends seemed desolate. I visit his grave everyday after school. I guess it's wierd, but I tell him everything that's happening at school and around town. I always tell him that I miss him.

I told the police that I didn’t know who shot Teno, but I gave them a description of what “Ice” looked like. Two days later, Ice (whose real name was Randall Williams) was caught with a gun. The same gun he had used in the murder of my best friend. Even though I was happy he got nailed, it really does nothing to ease the pain. I guess time is the only thing that will. Everything has changed for me. I've realized just how important, and precious everyday is and that you never know if you'll live to see the next.
My message to you is, if you get nothing else form this story, I hope you learn to cherish every moment as if it were your last.

Aww, this is sad

At the end, your character says that he's hoping he'll see 'him' again, does that mean Ice? If so, does he intend on getting revenge? That's not a nice ending

You've used the word 'man' a lot, way too much in fact. If you use the find and replace tool and change every 'man' to a word like 'cheese-string,' you'll realise how funny it looks when read by someone else.

Considering he remembers this day like it was yesterday, every detail, there aren't that many details in this story. Most of it just seems to be telling what happened, rather than engaging your reader. I think with a scene like this it would be good to explain what it was like there. Were there rats near the town hall building, or a leeky pipe that dripped cold water? Was it near a park with the smell of new grass, or were they near the entrance to a sewer?

This man in pyjamas seems very brave. Most people, if they heard something horrible happen, would stay safely indoors and call the police from there. What made this man so keen to be a hero that he got out of bed and ran straight into a dangerous scene?

"No! NO! Please, God, NO! Please! Not Teno! NO!" - The trouble with lines like this is, even though you can clearly see what's happening in your head, your reader can't pick up on variations in tone or pitch from simply looking at the page. Overusing the word 'no,' capital letters and exclaimation marks will only dull the effect, which is worse than not having them at all.

Overall I did find this interesting to read. It's a good idea. My main recommendation is to put yourself in that scene and thinking over what you can see, feel, hear, smell, apart from the main details. That's what makes things like this work, you've got to make it vivid to your reader to have the full impact you're going for.

I liked this because it somehow reminded me of the West Side Story: the creepy, dark scenery and the Hispanic characters.
One thing you have to alter: the dates of Teno’s death and birth don’t fit with his age… You can hardly be sixteen if you’re born September 5th 1993 and die May 27th 2008.
I think it also might improve the flow of the story if you’d change something about what happens immediately after Teno’s death. As a reader, you know what’s going to happen, you know he’s gonna die, even before the scene in the hospital, partly because of lines like this:

esaloka wrote:I slammed my fist against the wall. I fell to my knees and broke down, my own quiet moaning drowned out by the SLAM!SLAM!SLAM! of my fists against the wall. I slumped over. It felt like someone had thrown a mountain on my shoulders, and I couldn't carry it. I put my hands to my mouth to muffle the crying. After a while, I stood up. I was dizzy as I walked out of the bathroom.

They make it seem sort of final, so I think the hospital scene isn’t really necessary because it only confirms what could not have been any different, know what I mean?
Anyways, good story!

A tragic loss of a friend. Ernest Hemingway said that every great story should include a death. I think it was Hemingway who said that. Anyway, despite the need for a death in every story I usually don't like it when authors kill one of their main characters, and this story is no exception. If you are going to kill off a main character then it needs to be justified and I don't feel like it was in this story. To me Teno's death seems like it was just a tool you used to give your main character something to struggle over.

If you were to rewrite this story I think it would be a lot more compelling to keep Teno alive and instead the "death" in this story could be the death of the friendship between these characters. Better yet, have Teno kill someone else so that your main character can be caught up in the tangled web of loyalty toward his friend and his own well being.

But you can still keep the plot the same if you want to, but here were some of my suggestions to help make your story better:

esaloka wrote:I remember that night as if it were yesterday. Every detail. I remember there was a full moon, but it wasn’t shining down on us.
“Hey man, you look scared? Sure you wanna do this for me?” asked Teno, looking sideways at me.
“Yeah,” My throat was dry and it came out hoarse. Teno shook his head as he turned to look in front of him. We were crouched in the shadows behind the right wall of the town hall building. From that position I could see the big, cement fountain in front. The water was shut off for the night.

This is kind of a weak intro. We don't know what these characters look like, how old they are, whether either of them is a male or female. Remember with short stories you always want to give the reader as much info as possible as soon as possible.

“Shut up, man,” I said, turning to punch him back. I pulled my fist back, but he blocked the shot and grabbed my arm frantically.

omit the word frantically.

"What if it comes to a shoot out? What if they shoot him first. Then I’m gonna be standing out there with nothing to protect myself with." I said to myself. My older brother, Enrique, had asked me if I wanted to borrow his piece, but I said no. "Nice work, fool. Don't you wish you had that gun now?" I thought to myself as all seven of the guys leaned themselves against the side of the fountain.

Characters thoughts don't need to be in quotes. Also you should have revealed how many people were there at the very beginning of the story. Up until now I thought that there were only 2 characters in this scene.

“Here I go, man,” said Teno. He sounded nervous.
“Good luck, Teno,” I whispered as he started to stand up.
“I don’t need none of that, man.” he said as he slipped out of the shadows and into the light.
“Teno. Ya actually showed up?” said the biggest one. He was wearing a black t-shirt that was at least an extra-extra large and yet, seemed too tight on his chest. Teno went to stand in front of the big guy.
“W’sup, man?” asked Teno, taking up the usual “cholo" pose with his legs spread apart and his hands folded across his chest with his chin tilted up, as if daring the world to come at him.
“Don’t punk me, man. You know exactly whats goin’ on,” drawled Big Guy. One of the other guys stepped forward half a step. His arms were huge, but didn't match with his skinny legs.
“Nah, Ice. I don’t know. Y’all called me down here. So w’sup?” asked Teno again. He knew exactly what was up.

I think this is an example of too much direct dialogue. Remember not all dialogue has to be in quotations.

You can use summary dialogue such as: I wished Teno good luck but he told me he didn't need it.
Or indirect dialogue: I told Teno good luck but he said that he didn't need it, that he was a master at this sort of thing

Remember when creating dialogue you want to save the direct quotes for the most important statements. By limiting direct quotes it can make the dialogue seem more important to the story.

Teno’s brother, Marcus, had squealed on a guy named Rinaldo.The story went that Rinaldo shot someone and Marcus was with him. Marcus was the last one seen near the crime scene and was arrested. The cops, or whoever, told him, that if he snitched on the shooter, he wouldn’t go to jail for as long. He snitched, and Rinaldo got picked up and sentenced to life in prison. Now, people were mad. Teno had been my best friend since we were five, and I wasn’t going to let him go through with this alone.

There's some punctuation issues here, but other than that I didn't see any problems with this paragraph.

Everything happened so fast. One second, I saw Teno trying to step back and pulling his gun up with Ice was holding his shoulder. Everyone was yelling at once. The next instant, Teno was on the ground and three gunshots sounded out. Then, it seemed like everyone froze. I looked over at the goons and they were looking at the ground. Then they started running. I rushed out from the shadows. Ice was running with the others. "No! NO! Please, God, NO! Please! Not Teno! NO!" I screamed in my head. When I got to him, I kneeled down. He was gasping in air. Blood was flowing from three holes in his chest. The ground under him was turning a deep red as his blood mixed with the dirt.
“NO!” I yelled. I put my arm under Teno’s head.“NO! Teno! Listen to me, man! Man, don’t leave me! Think of yo’ family! Man, please! Don’t do this to me!” I couldn’t see through my tears. Teno reached up and grabbed my hand.
“I’m sorry, Javi,” he gasped. His eyes rolled back in his head.

This scene wasn't very compelling because you didn't build up the suspense leading up to it. I suggest using a flashback to a specific event that happened earlier that will reveal Teno and the narrator's friendship. By doing that the reader will get a better sense of how much the narrator cares for Teno and it will give us a sense of what's at stake.

That's the question you should always ask yourself when writing any story: "What's at stake?" and "How do we know what's at stake?"

“Hello young man. I’m officer Tim Hall with the police department,” He had a deep southern accent. “Can I ask you some questions?”
I didn’t want to talk to anyone. But, I knew if I didn’t, they would all think I shot Teno, or something. I nodded my head and the cop pulled out a paper and pen. “What happened here? Who did this? Why?” he asked. I answered with short, quick answers. I sobbed quietly the whole time he was talking.

Here's another area where indirect dialogue would be helpful. I'd like to see a description of the cop. You don't have to describe every detail but give us at least one defining feature for the reader to hold onto, that way we won't see just a blank face. Describe the cop's hair or eye color, mention the scar across the bridge of his nose or something like that.

Also your narrator would most likely have been talking to a homicide detective, not an officer. Attempted murder falls under homicide's jurisdiction. Have your cop say something like, "I'm detective Tim Hall with homicide, I need to ask you a few questions."

This is why it's important to do the research before writing about something.

Somehow, I made it home.

If this was real life and a person just witnessed a murder, or attempted murder, the police would most likely take him or her to the precinct for questioning. Maybe this is taking place after the police questioned your narrator but either way you're missing out on what could potentially be a dramatic scene for this story. I'd consider re-writing this story to include a police interview at the station. If you're not sure what a real life police interview would be like try watching the show "The First 48." You could probably find some episodes on youtube or something.

I stumbled in the door, and dragged myself to the room I shared with Enrique. I sat on my bed, still crying. I felt weak. I stood back up and went to the bathroom closing the door behind me and turning on the light. My hands were covered in Teno’s blood and my shirt was stained with it from leaning over him. In the mirror, I saw my eyes were swollen and red. I leaned on the sink. "You didn’t run out to distract ‘em like you were supposed to!" I yelled in my head. I slammed my fist against the wall. I fell to my knees and broke down, my own quiet moaning drowned out by the SLAM!SLAM!SLAM! of my fists against the wall. I slumped over. It felt like someone had thrown a mountain on my shoulders, and I couldn't carry it. I put my hands to my mouth to muffle the crying. Use a paragraph break right here

I feel like this scene would be more compelling if we had some more back story, ie a stronger sense of the narrator's relationship with Teno. Without more character development this scene feels more like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, which I'm certain is not what you want to go for.

After a while, I stood up. I was dizzy as I walked out of the bathroom. I ran right into my brother, who was standing in the hallway. He cussed.

We need a brief description of Enrique. At the very least tell us his age and what features he and his brother have in common.

“He didn’t make it, li’l bro. I’m so sorry, man. They couldn’t do nu’n.” he said, looking down.
“No...no,” I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping this was all a nightmare. I leaned forward in my seat and felt myself hit the ground, then being lifted up, then more hands pulling me up into my chair. I kept my eyes closed, hoping everything would go back. Before Teno got shot. All the way back to when we were young. When the only bad things that happened were nothing more than a broken arm or hurt feelings. My ears were ringing. I felt myself being pulled to my feet, then half stumbling, half being dragged to the elevators. I kept my eyes closed all the way. The next thing I remember was getting home and walking in the door. I opened my eyes when I heard my mom. She was getting off the couch.

Again you didn't spend enough time building suspense so this scene isn't nearly as compelling as it should be. When writing about tragedy you want to constantly juxtapose the tragic events with a little comedy. Give us little anecdotes about Teno, show us what a funny guy he was, give us a flashback to when he was playing a practical joke on one of his friends. This will make it a lot more tragic when we find out that Teno is dead.

Also, you jump forward through time way too quickly. You don't need to describe every second from leaving the hospital to the trip home, but use smoother transitions between scenes. Any story whether it's a novel or a short store has to be a careful balance between scene and summary

I woke up crying the next morning. It was raining. I stayed in bed until the funeral, a couple days later. I walked into the funeral home with almost all eyes on me. I went over and sat next to Teno’s mom. She was crying, but I couldn’t comfort her, because I was crying, too. She reached over and held my hand.

Your protagonist spends an awful lot of time crying in this story. I know for a fact that there's nothing happy about having a close friend gunned down but as a reader if all I see is a character crying throughout the story he's not going to seem sympathetic, he's just going to come off as plain old pathetic.

I think your protagonist would be a much more sympathetic character if he wasn't so comfortable crying in front of people. At the funerals I've been to the people closest to the deceased tend to spend the least amount of time crying. I think that there is something more tragic about a deeply saddened person fighting hard to keep his or her emotions from showing.

Give your protagonist something that reminds him of Teno, some activity or object that used to bring the narrator great joy when Teno was alive and then show the narrator after Teno's death observing this object or activity while finding no joy in it whatsoever. Better yet if the object is a gift from Teno show the character destroying the object or hiding it away out of sight so that he won't have to deal with the emotional pain it brings him.

I told the police that I didn’t know who shot Teno, but I gave them a description of what “Ice” looked like. Two days later, Ice (whose real name was Randall Williams) was caught with a gun. The same gun he had used in the murder of my best friend. He is now in jail for life, also. Even though I was happy he got nailed, it doesn’t stop the tears or ease the pain. I hope as time goes on, that the pain will subside. Even if it doesn’t, I know that someday, I’ll see him again, and I’m hoping today, the 5th day of September 2009, as I sit here looking out the window, that the day will come soon...very soon...

Is there some importance to the date September 5, 2009 that I'm not getting. Remember every sentence in the story from the very first line of the intro to the last period in the ending should do one of two things: Reveal character or advance the action.


I'm afraid that this short story might fall under the category of "Bathos." A bathos story is a story in which the author tries so hard to make the reader sad that it ends up being unintentionally funny. I personally don't feel like this story was all that funny but it definitely did not make me feel sympathetic toward the character.

Readers don't like it when authors try to coax a certain reaction out of them. That's why if you want to compel your reader to feel anything about a particular story, whether its a comedy or a tragedy, you need to use subtlety. Like I said as a reader I don't want to see your character crying all the time. That's not going to make me feel sorry for him at all. That's going to make me wish he'd stop being such a whiner all the time. It should be the exact opposite, your character should be fighting these emotions for his friend throughout the story so that the reader will see that and wish for the protagonist to stop being afraid of his emotions.

Also in every story, whether its a comedy, a tragedy or some bizarre combination of the two, your main character must undergo some sort of change by the end of the story and the reader must have a sense of that change. As I read this story I didn't get much of a sense of change for this character because I didn't know enough about this character. Give us some background info, use specific examples of what this character was like at the beginning and contrast that with something entirely different at the end.

I hope this has been helpful and if you have any questions drop a comment or a pm or something. Keep writing.