The Gift Of God

A warm, sunny morning in July. Trees covered the windows of Parkview Hospital as small warm rays of sunlight broke through and shone on the face of a happy mother. "Natividad, you did very well! the procedure was a bit difficult, but it seems like everything will be okay! You've given birth to a wonderful baby boy!" Without words but rather, an expression filled with fatigue and triumph she received into her arms her newborn boy. She smiled, and all watched the quiet tender moment. Her daughters began to crowd her suddenly as she whispered "Look! I think he's about to open his eyes!" as they bunched around her, the small boys eyes began to twitch as they jolted open.


And then he cried.

"Well, he sure sounds like a fighter! You already have a name planned out for the little guy?" Said the doctor as he removed his gloves. "Yes, I've been waiting a long time to meet you.."

She looked into him, shushing him. As a mother would, she did all she could to ease his temper. It was then, for the first time that she locked eyes with him. Deep into his dark eyes, she stared through her child. Beneath the shadow of his eyes, was a boy Her boy. He sat alone in a lunch table, ignoring bits of food and spitballs thrown and shot at him. He looked down at his ruined food, and stared into it restraining every tear he had. Pushing his tray away almost instinctively he put his head down and cried his heart out as they chanted "Faggot!" "Pussy!" "Crybaby!". Beneath his eyes, she could see her boy hiding and trembling fiercely behind the television as plates and glass chattered against the walls and floor. The sound of people crashing to the ground, familiar voices shouting at each other with threats and shouts of regret and hate. She watched her son move his lips, wording out "I wish mom and dad could be happy" blowing out candle after candle, cake after cake, year after year. Until at last, there was no cake. There he was, her big boy. Standing alone on the restricted roof of a closed mall. Hiding, shaking. Holding a small photo of a happy family. She watched her precious son drag himself away from a dirty field. Staggering away from a broken bicycle clutching a broken arm, blood spilling onto the floor from his mouth.

Beneath the eyes of her baby boy, she could see and hear the screams as he cried in his room for days, the betrayal of all his friends like a dagger plunged deep into his back. She could see him sluggishly walking out after days without eating, his eyes swollen and red. His face, blank. No thought. No feeling. No desire. She witnessed her young man clutching to a phone, in the middle of Center City. The sky a deep black, glittered with feint stars and a full moon above his head to show him his way back home. She could hear the ended call still beeping as he walked further and further away from home. Repeating to himself over and over.. "It can't be over. It just can't be".. Within his deep pools of dark prophecy, she saw his anger build and gazed into his soul as his heart tore and shattered. She watched him bleed, his wrist red and his eyes full of intent. She watched her son bash every wall in sight as his fear took over his mind and drove him deeper into insanity. She watched him cry, she heard him scream and beg for salvation! She watched him clutch his chest and gasp for air as his consciousness as hatred polluted his thoughts. She heard him curse the name and heart of God, and swore his eternal hatred for the word religion. She felt the cold lack of a heart as she watched her son lay in the basement writing his feeling out, and burning every page to hide it from her. She felt his pain. She read his every thought. The sadness. The want. She could hear him beg for her to stop hitting him. She could feel the lumps on his back from the lashing she'd deliver for bad grades and talking back. She could hear him wish for her to arms to embrace him as he hid from her. She knew it all.


She knew what he'd go through.

She knew what he'd be like..

She knew his pain...


She knew his future.



As she held onto her baby boy, she shushed him and smiled as she gazed into his eyes. "Well Ms. Rodriguez, what'll you name him?" She smiled widely. Without looking up at him, she clutched her darling sons hands and replied " His name will be Nathaniel... Nathaniel, the Gift of God.




***WARNING*** This is an explanation of my story, don't read it unless you can't figure the story out yourself ;P

Spoiler

For those of you that (obviously may not) know, I am an Atheist. I abandoned my faith during my earlier preteen years, around the time my parents got divorced. The story is supposed to be an explanation of all the faults and things that have gone wrong in my life, tying in with the grand irony of birth itself. The birth of a child is commonly considered a miracle. A gift of god, if you will. If one were to analyze the occurrences of my life, one would obviously see my life is all but a pleasant gift of god. I always consider my name an irony. I lead a rather difficult and stressful life for a person my age, and it sadly doesn't bother me to admit I'm quite negative. I don't have many positive, peacefully factors of my life. Every day is a new struggle, every struggle goes father than it should. This story is supposed to be a moment, of irony. That my mother gave me a name, that would stand to become the polar opposite of everything I am.

Little comments: was a boy should have a period after it, thus beginning Her boy.

It was a well written piece I will say that.

If I may, I think Nathaniel is a beautiful name. It comes from the Hebrew Natan-el which literally means God has given. Buddy, we all have hard lives. You have to take the good with the bad, smiles with the sad. You can't let a bad family, or bad things that happen to you ruin your life. You have to find the strength that it is in you to keep living. You can die at any moment, but it is a miracle that you wake up everyday and have a new opportunity every morning to live. When you think the world has turned on you, look again, most likely you have turned your back on it.

I appreciate your input, I honestly do. It makes me happy that you'd take the time out to reach to me. However, I feel the expression "Easier said than done" would come into play. There's not a poem, not even an autobiography of words enough to make me shrug off what I've been through. People are built different. I can't exactly just put it all behind, and smile. It's easier to say those kinds of things, when you've faced what a person has in it's entirety. Despite that, I humbly appreciate your words. Thank you!

Hey Nathaniel, hope this helps.

I read the first few lines and let a malicious blood thirsty grin stretch ear to ear. I was expecting the rest to be as bad. But it wasn't; it only got better, that's not saying it still could do with a lot of work.

Depending on what you want to achieve with this piece you could disregard everything I say because essentially the writing is sound and if your happy with it yourself you can keep it as is. However I there is a lot you could do to make the piece more readable and the message more clear.

Let's begin.

NathanielC wrote:A warm, sunny morning in July. Trees covered the windows of Parkview Hospital as small warm rays of sunlight broke through and shone on the face of a happy mother. "Natividad, you did very well! the procedure was a bit difficult, but it seems like everything will be okay! You've given birth to a wonderful baby boy!"

What would change if the story started without all this fluff? I mean you vaguely set the scene but these minor details eg, it being July can all be weaved into the narrative later. Dive into the action. Make a genuinely appealing hook rather that babbling about how happy the mother is and how there are trees next to the hospital.

Without words but rather, an expression filled with fatigue and triumph she received into her arms her newborn boy.

ah what? There's a better way to say this surely? Why don't you show us rather than tell us.

eg, Sweat dripped from her brow and wore a dopey triumphant grin as the doctor tenderly placed the baby in her arms for the first time.

She smiled, and all watched the quiet tender moment. (you've already provided enough description of the mother for now.) Her daughters began to crowd herflocked to her side suddenly as she whispered "Look! I think he's about to open his eyes!" as (Don't use as more than once in a sentence; try to avoid using it more than once in a paragraph) they bunched around her, the small boys eyes began to twitch as they jolted (come on they jolted? I mean have you ever seen a baby open its eyes for the first time? They certainly don't jolt they barely open at all, perhaps have them slit and not quite open, but still enough to see its chestnut pupils.) open.

This whole part needs a tidy up. But the idea of the daughters etc is great just make it a lil more realistic.

And then he cried.

This is fantastic. So eloquent.

"Well, he sure sounds like a fighter! You already have a name planned out for the little guy?" ( doctors are generally a little more professional than this. Try "have you considered any names?") Said the doctor as he removed his gloves. (this is just a trivial factual error, at this stage he probably wouldn't still be wearing his gloves and if he was he wouldn't tear them off in front of her but hey.) "Yes, I've been waiting a long time to meet you.."

Now for the macro-edit. There are still a lot of nitpicky things throughout the rest of the piece but for the most part I will let you weed them out. I will however try to clear up the unreadable mess of paragraphs...

She looked into him, shushing him. As a mother would, she did all she could to ease his temper(? his temper? who is this kid with a temper already? They don't cry cause they are tempermental they cry because they have been dragged from their comfortable womb - sorry no more nitpicks!). It was then, for the first time that she locked eyes with him. Deep into his dark eyes, she stared through her child. Beneath the shadow of his eyes, was a boy Her boy.

Break this paragraph here. and make it a little more clear that is a flash foward.

He sat alone in a lunch table, ignoring bits of food and spitballs thrown and shot at him. He looked down at his ruined food, and stared into it restraining every tear he had. Pushing his tray away almost instinctively he put his head down and cried his heart out as they chanted "Faggot!" "Pussy!" "Crybaby!". Beneath his eyes, she could see her boy hiding and trembling fiercely behind the television as plates and glass chattered against the walls and floor. The sound of people crashing to the ground, familiar voices shouting at each other with threats and shouts of regret and hate.

Maybe break again here, not overly important but one thing I really noticed when I originally read this piece was how lengthy the paragraphs were, not to mention how vague the flash forward was.

She watched her son move his lips, wording out "I wish mom and dad could be happy" blowing out candle after candle, cake after cake, year after year. Until at last, there was no cake. There he was, her big boy. Standing alone on the restricted roof of a closed mall. Hiding, shaking. Holding a small photo of a happy family. She watched her precious son drag himself away from a dirty field. Staggering away from a broken bicycle clutching a broken arm, blood spilling onto the floor (this is screaming out for more description, something like "blood spilling onto the hard earth") from his mouth.

Beneath the eyes of her baby boy, she could see and hear the screams as he cried in his room for days, the betrayal of all his friends like a dagger plunged deep into his back. She could see him sluggishly walking out after days without eating, his eyes swollen and red. His face, blank. No thought. No feeling. No desire. She witnessed her young man clutching to a phone, in the middle of Center City. The sky a deep black, glittered with feint( or faint both are technically fine but have slightly different meaning, 'feint' gives the stars responsiblity for being hard to see as though they themselves are evasive, faint means they are just hard to see) stars and a full moon above his headto show himlightinghis way back home.

Break.

She could hear the ended call stillvacant line beeping as he walked further and further away from home. Repeating to himself over and over.. "It can't be over. It just can't be".. Within his deep pools of dark prophecy, she saw his anger build and gazed into his soul as his heart tore and shattered.

this imagery is all a little tough to swallow, I mean its all readable and could be comprehended by most but then you kind of climb up a notch here. Also tore and shattered seem to conflict and takes away from the imagery. Have the heart crack then shatter or two pieces of description that are successive if that makes sense

. She watched him bleed, his wrist red and his eyes full of intent. She watched her son bash every wall in sight as his fear took over his mind and drove him deeper into insanity. She watched him cry, she heard him scream and beg for salvation! She watched him clutch his chest and gasp for air as his consciousness as hatred polluted his thoughts. She heard him curse the name and heart of God, and swore his eternal hatred for the word religion. She felt the cold lack of a heart as she watched her son lay in the basement writing his feeling out, and burning every page to hide it from her. She felt his pain. She read his every thought. The sadness. The want. She could hear him beg for her to stop hitting him. She could feel the lumps on his back from the lashing she'd deliver for bad grades and talking back. She could hear him wish for her to arms to embrace him as he hid from her. She knew it all.


She knew what he'd go through.

She knew what he'd be like..

She knew his pain...


She knew his future.



As she held onto her baby boy, she shushed him and smiled as she gazed into his eyes. "Well Ms. Rodriguez, what'll you name him?" She smiled widely. Without looking up at him, she clutched her darling sons hands and replied " His name will be Nathaniel... Nathaniel, the Gift of God.

Great Ending. I guess the main issue is you don't do a great deal of showing, you don't paint us a lovely picture as much as you sit us down and fill out an incident report for a police officer. There is some wonderful description at times but most of the time it is lacking.

The other issue I have is with the disclaimer. I mean if you have to explain the story you have missed something. Give the reader due respect we're not all moronic, assume readers will understand the piece and if not don't put a disclaimer just make it a little more clear.

All in all its a decent piece. You have clearly put a lot of yourself into this and it shows.
Well done like I said I hope this helps and I hope you were after a critique!
JP