Young Writers Society

The edited version I have posted below. Please review that. Thankyou.












Short story at the moment, I wrote something similar on a creative writing camp, but I'm think maybe I could develop it into something more. Basically is was an exercise on point of view, but I think it can stand alone as a story. Or not...

It is strange that the things we remember from our childhood are so often the things that determine the adults we have become. Does our brain record these moments, knowing what effect they are having on us at that very second? As a seven year old child I barely understood what was happening, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.

I was lying in my little bed, with a multitude of beige blankets engulfing my small body. I was feverish that night, and my mother wouldn’t let me have my feet out from under the covers. She had tucked me in so tightly, to keep me warm and safe. But I woke up sweating the night, hearing voices coming from downstairs. In the darkness of the night, with the moon throwing shadows across my room, the voices of angels could have scared me. I shivered and my body froze. My imagination conjured up images of thieves, of soldiers, of demons and skeletons. Years from now, they would make movies that reminded me of my childhood fears, and nothing scared me like those horrors.

Yet with imagination came curiosity, and now that I’d awoken, there was no way I was staying in bed. I crept out of bed and down the corridor and, seeing the light on in the kitchen, crouched down beside the top of the stairs and leaned so that my head poked through the banister. I saw my father, Daddy to me then, leaning over the wooden table and clutching Jimmy by his shoulders. My mother was sitting on one of our dining chairs, her body hunched over and silently crying. My parents were dressed in their pyjamas, with their dressing gowns put over the top. But Jimmy, Jimmy was wearing clothes I’d never seen before, the colour of paper parcels and just as neat and tidy. He’d shined his boots, combed his hair and his usually crooked collar was straight as anything. Were my parents angry at him for wearing all this finery? They didn’t notice me, but I could hear Jimmy speaking quietly. I leant down further, hoping to catch what he was saying.

“I thought it would be easier this way. Less tears for us all.” Jimmy’s hands grabbed my father’s and pushed them gently away, holding them still.

“You would leave without saying goodbye to your little sister?”
I froze once again at the mention of me, but I couldn’t help but let out a little gasp. As if by magic all eyes turned to me and my eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. My parents look angry at me, but Jimmy just smiled.
“Come on down here, Janey, it’s not very ladylike to lurk on banisters, now, is it?”
I ran down the stairs as fast as could, running up to Jimmy and hugging him tightly. He lent down to me, so we could be face to face. I always knew when he did that he had something important to say.
“Janey, listen, I don’t know what you heard up there, but the truth is I’m going away for awhile. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll bring you a present, I promise. Be a good little girl for me.”
Jimmy looked down for a second, his smile gone.
“I love you, little sis.” With that he kissed me on the cheek and stood up again.
“Why are you going? What’s happening, Jimmy?”
Jimmy just picked up his rucksack and put on his hat, ignoring me. I started to cry. I turned to my parents, grabbing my father’s leg.
“Where’s Jimmy going, Daddy? When will he come back?”
My mother’s sobs got louder and my father just looked away. It was the first time in my life when my parents couldn’t answer my questions; they were reduced from Gods to mere mortals. I was overcome with emotion, hysterical as only a child can be. I ran up the stairs, tripping a couple of times, while the tears streamed fiercely down my face. I made no attempt to hide my despair, my horrible cries sounding ominously through the night.

As I look back on that memory, I cannot think of the generation of people who had their sons, their brothers, their fathers and their husbands taken from them. I cannot think of victories or defeats, for the victories were as hollow as any military drum. I cannot think of honour, of valour, of bravery or sacrifice. I can only think of Jimmy, how he warmed his toes by the fire, how he read to me, how he hugged me when I scraped my knee and how I never got to say “I love you” back.

Wow. That was really good. It had a great start, a fantastic ending, and was filled with rich descriptive details. I loved it.

Hi, Ducati! 'Course I'll review this.

It is strange that the things we remember from our childhood are so often the things that determine the adults we have become. Does our brain record these moments, knowing what effect they are having on us at that very second? As a seven-year-old child I barely understood what was happening, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.

Good and effective beginning. Maybe smooth that last sentence a little, but otherwise it's fine.


I was lying in my little bed, with a multitude of beige blankets engulfing my small body. I was feverish that night, and my mother wouldn’t even let me have my feet out from under the covers. She had tucked me in [s]so[/s] tightly, to keep me warm and safe. But I woke up sweating [s]the night[/s], hearing voices coming from downstairs. In the darkness of the night, with the moon throwing shadows across my room, the voices of angels could have scared me. If I were in that situation, the voices of angels would be exactly what would scare me! I shivered and my body froze. Description could be stronger. My imagination conjured up images of thieves, of soldiers, of demons and skeletons. I would use that "of" only before "thieves" and ditch it from the others. I don't know if it's correct, though. Years from now, they would make movies that reminded me of my childhood fears, and nothing scared me like those horrors.

The jump from past to present is a little abrupt, I think. You could maybe have its own line for the last sentence.


Yet with imagination came curiosity, and now that I’d awoken, there was no way I was staying in bed. I crept out of bed and down the corridor and, seeing the light on in the kitchen, crouched down beside the top of the stairs and leaned so that my head poked through the banister. Too many "and"s in one sentence. I saw my father, Daddy to me then What about "I saw my father – Daddy, as I called him then – leaning over..."? Sounds and looks better, leaning over the wooden table and clutching Jimmy by his shoulders. My mother was sitting on one of our dining chairs, her body hunched over and silently crying. My parents were dressed in their pyjamas, with their dressing gowns put over the top. Maybe ditch that "dressed", so it won't sound repetitive. You know, with that "dressing gowns". But Jimmy, Jimmy Why two "Jimmy"s? The effect is not needed in this case was wearing clothes I’d never seen before, the colour of paper parcels and just as neat and tidy. He’d shined polished, maybe his boots, combed his hair and his usually crooked collar was straight as anything. Were my parents angry at him for wearing all this finery? I was going to scold you for being so naïve, but that fits perfectly for a seven-year-old. Nice job. They didn’t notice me, but I could hear Jimmy speaking quietly. I leant down further, hoping to catch what he was saying.


“I thought it would be easier this way. Less tears for us all.” Jimmy’s hands grabbed my father’s and pushed them gently away, holding them still.


“You would leave without saying goodbye to your little sister?”

I froze once again at the mention of me, but I couldn’t help but let out a little gasp. As if by magic all eyes turned to me and my eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. A little clliché, but fine. My parents looked [s]angry[/s] at me angrily, but Jimmy just smiled.

“Come on down here, Janey, it’s not very ladylike to lurk on banisters, now, is it?” I suppose Jimmy says this.

I ran down the stairs as fast as could, running up to Jimmy and hugging him tightly. He leant down to me, so we could be face to face. I always knew [s]when he did that[/s] he had something important to say when he did that.

“Janey, listen, I don’t know what you heard up there, but the truth is I’m going away for aspace herewhile. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll bring you a present, I promise. Be a good little girl for me.”

Jimmy looked down for a second, his smile gone.

“I love you, little sis.” With that he kissed me on the cheek and stood up again.

“Why are you going? What’s happening, Jimmy?” I think it would be more believable for a little girl to ask "Where are you going" rather "Why are you going". Even if she says that to her father in her next line.

Jimmy just picked up his rucksack and put on his hat, ignoring me. I started to cry. I turned to my parents, grabbing my father’s leg.

“Where’s Jimmy going, Daddy? When will he come back?”

My mother’s sobs got louder and my father just looked away. It was the first time in my life when my parents couldn’t answer my questions couldn't – or wouldn't?; they were reduced from Gods to mere mortals. I was overcome with emotion, hysterical as only a child can be. I ran up the stairs, tripping a couple of times, while the tears streamed fiercely down my face. I made no attempt to hide my despair, my horrible cries sounding ominously through the night.


As I look back on that memory, I cannot think of the generation of people who had their sons, their brothers, their fathers and their husbands taken from them. I cannot think of victories or defeats, for the victories were as hollow as any military drum. I cannot think of honour, of valour, of bravery or sacrifice. I can only think of Jimmy, how he warmed his toes by the fire, how he read to me, how he hugged me when I scraped my knee and how I never got to say “I love you” back.

Overall:

Oh, that was beautiful. I liked it how the narrator was recalling the story, and thus could be both seven and adult. I think you did rather well with capturing a seven-year-old, how she didn't realize everything. Actually very nice job on that. I also liked the subject and how you didn't make it obvious in the beginning. I mean that at least I couldn't guess he was going to army until the end. You were able to maintain the secrecy and uncertainty 'til the very end.
I think you have a good piece here!

Thanks for the read and good luck with all your writing!


Demeter
xxx

Edited and updated version:


It is strange that the things we remember from our childhood are so often the things that determine the adults we have become. Does our brain record these moments, knowing what effect they are having on us at that very second? As a seven-year-old child I barely understood what was happening, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.



I was lying in my little bed, with a multitude of beige blankets engulfing my small body. I was feverish that night, and my mother wouldn’t even let me have my feet out from under the covers. She had tucked me in tightly, to keep me warm and safe. But I woke up sweating, hearing voices coming from downstairs. In the darkness of the night, with the moon throwing shadows across my room, the voices of my closest friends could have scared me. I shivered and every muscle in my body froze. My imagination conjured up images of thieves, soldiers, demons and skeletons.


Yet with imagination came curiosity, and now that I’d awoken, there was no way I was staying in bed. I crept out of bed and down the corridor. Seeing the light on in the kitchen, crouched down beside the top of the stairs and leaned so that my head poked through the banister. I saw my father - Daddy ask I called him then - leaning over the wooden table and clutching Jimmy by his shoulders. My mother was sitting on one of our dining chairs, her body hunched over and silently crying. My parents were wearing their pyjamas, with their dressing gowns put over the top. ". But Jimmy was wearing clothes I’d never seen before, the colour of paper parcels and just as neat and tidy. He’d polished his boots, combed his hair and his usually crooked collar was straight as anything. Were my parents angry at him for wearing all this finery?. They didn’t notice me, but I could hear Jimmy speaking quietly. I leant down further, hoping to catch what he was saying.


“I thought it would be easier this way. Less tears for us all.” Jimmy’s hands grabbed my father’s and pushed them gently away, holding them still.


“You would leave without saying goodbye to your little sister?”

I froze once again at the mention of me, but I couldn’t help but let out a little gasp. As if by magic all eyes turned to me and my eyes widened like a deer in the headlights.. My parents looked at me angrily, but Jimmy just smiled.

“Come on down here, Janey, it’s not very ladylike to lurk on banisters, now, is it?” Said Jimmy.

I ran down the stairs as fast as could, running up to Jimmy and hugging him tightly. He leant down to me, so we could be face to face. I always he had something important to say when he did that.

“Janey, listen, I don’t know what you heard up there, but the truth is I’m going away for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll bring you a present, I promise. Be a good little girl for me.”

Jimmy looked down for a second, his smile gone.

“I love you, little sis.” With that he kissed me on the cheek and stood up again.

“Where are you going? What’s happening, Jimmy?”

Jimmy just picked up his rucksack and put on his hat, ignoring me. I started to cry. I turned to my parents, grabbing my father’s leg.

“Where’s Jimmy going, Daddy? When will he come back?”

My mother’s sobs got louder and my father just looked away. It was the first time in my life when my parents wouldn’t answer my questions and they were reduced from Gods to mere mortals. I was overcome with emotion, hysterical as only a child can be. I ran up the stairs, tripping a couple of times, while the tears streamed fiercely down my face. I made no attempt to hide my despair, my horrible cries sounding ominously through the night.


As I look back on that memory, I cannot think of the generation of people who had their sons, their brothers, their fathers and their husbands taken from them. I cannot think of victories or defeats, for the victories were as hollow as any military drum. I cannot think of honour, of valour, of bravery or sacrifice. I can only think of Jimmy, how he warmed his toes by the fire, how he read to me, how he hugged me when I scraped my knee and how I never got to say “I love you” back.

The narrative voice is a little shaky, but overall I like the theme and the idea of it.

It is strange that the things we remember from our childhood are so often the things that determine the adults we have become. Does our brain record these moments, knowing what effect they are having on us at that very second? As a seven-year-old child I barely understood what was happening, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.

I think this type of opening is a little overused, but it's hard to think of another way to begin a story like this that's so focused on looking backwards... maybe an in medias res beginning would work better, with the girl already in bed and no preface?

I was lying in my little bed, with a multitude of beige blankets engulfing my body. I was feverish that night, and my mother wouldn’t even let me have my feet out from under the covers. She had tucked me in tightly, to keep me warm and safe. But I woke up sweating, hearing voices coming from downstairs. In the darkness of the night, with the moon throwing shadows across my room, the voices of my closest friends could have scared me. I shivered and every muscle in my body froze. My imagination conjured up images of thieves, soldiers, demons and skeletons.

Again, a little tired, but it gets the job done. We don't really need to know what color the blankets were, though.

“I thought it would be easier this way. Less tears for us all.” Jimmy’s hands grabbed my father’s and pushed them gently away, holding them still.

Less tears for us all? Less tears for us all... it's okay, it just sounds wierd when you say it out loud. A lot of the dialogue in this piece has the same problem, I think. It's too much what you want the characters to say and not enough what someone actually would say. I get the feeling you've never really had an experience like this (not that I have either) but you might want to define the characters a little more in your head before you begin writing for them. I know it's a small piece though, and that's why I figure you weren't entirely invested in it, but just so you know, it shows.

Besides the dialogue, though, the description was fine and you've really got a talent with that, and the whole piece runs very smoothly with good transitions. ^^

Wow, that was really good. I don't see a lot of errors that need to be fixed besides the one's you've already corrected when you revised the story. Over all, the story is really great.

Here as requested, Duc!

It is strange that the things we remember from our childhood are so often the things that determine the adults we have become.

I think this sentence would benefit if you remove, 'have'. Because then this includes all ages, and makes room for easier empathy.

As a seven-year-old child I barely understood what was happening, but the memory of that night is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.

'As if it were yesterday' < I find that too much of a cliche compared to the rest of this piece, in which the language you use is refreshing. Before you use any expression or description that sounds familiar to you, think about it carefully. Is there a better way to say what you want to say? Would it be better simply to use literal language than to rely on an overused expression?

I was feverish that night, and my mother wouldn’t even let me have my feet out from under the covers.

Since you've already started the previous sentence with, 'I was,' to add variation, why don't you rephrase: Being feverish that night, I was not even allowed to have my feet out from under the covers.

She had tucked me in tightly, to keep me warm and safe.

If you are going to go with my edit of the previous sentence, change, 'she' to 'mother', to clarify what we're talking about. If you don't agree with the edit, then ignore this. xD

But I woke up sweating, hearing voices coming from downstairs.

Never start a sentence with a conjunction. Another thing, so far your sentence structure has been fairly repetetive. Maybe we can vary it by editing this sentence, 'But I woke up sweating because I heard voices coming from downstairs.' Aye?

Seeing the light on in the kitchen, crouched down beside the top of the stairs and leaned so that my head poked through the banister.

You need to put, 'I' before 'crouched.' And I think you should delete, 'leaned so that,' because it's slightly redundant, and simply have, '...stairs and poked my head through the banisters.'

I saw my father - Daddy ask I called him then - leaning over the wooden table and clutching Jimmy by his shoulders.

The use of 'leaning' here increases the need of my previous edit, because otherwise we'll have a repetition of 'lean.' And I don't understand the content in between the dashes, it's worded awkwardly. I think you mean, 'Daddy asked me to call him that'. But I'm not sure. Clarify?

My mother was sitting on one of our dining chairs, her body hunched over and silently crying.

I would rephrase as it sounds a bit awkward, 'My mother was hunched over, sitting on one of our dining chairs and silently crying.'

My parents were wearing their pyjamas, with their dressing gowns put over the top. ".

You have a stray fullstop and an unneeded speech mark at the end of this sentence.

But Jimmy was wearing clothes I’d never seen before, the colour of paper parcels and just as neat and tidy.

I think you should write, 'that were the colour of paper parcel.s'

He’d polished his boots, combed his hair and his usually crooked collar was straight as anything.

'straight as anything' is a bit disappointing. It would be better if you found a decent simile, or just got rid entirely of, 'as anything.'

Were my parents angry at him for wearing all this finery?.

The fullstop after the question mark is unneeded. Furthermore, 'finery' is a bit eloquent and old-fashioned for a boy who's been using such simplistic language up till now.

Jimmy’s hands grabbed my father’s and pushed them gently away, holding them still.

I know I'm not being particularly helpful, but this sentence makes no sense to me whatsoever.

“You would leave without saying goodbye to your little sister?”

Clarify who's speaking, and to who. Oh and in the next sentence, you say you froze by hearing your name. However, they didn't mention your MC's name, they just said, 'little sister.'

As if by magic all eyes turned to me and my eyes widened like a deer in the headlights..

Nix one of the fullstops. I think this sentence would be more effective if you broke it up into to, you'd squeeze a lot moer emotion out of it that way, 'As if by magic all eyes turned to me. My eyes widened like a deer in the headlights.' Oh, and I think to avoid repetition, say, 'all faces turned to me.'

“Come on down here, Janey, it’s not very ladylike to lurk on banisters, now, is it?” Said Jimmy.

'said' should not be capitalised. And I think you should rephrase, 'it's not very ladylike to lurk around banisters.' As she can't really lurk ON the banisters.

I ran down the stairs as fast as could, running up to Jimmy and hugging him tightly.

You need to insert 'I' before 'could.'

He leant down to me, so we could be face to face. I always he had something important to say when he did that.

Replace the first 'he' with 'Jimmy'.

“Janey, listen, I don’t know what you heard up there, but the truth is I’m going away for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll bring you a present, I promise. Be a good little girl for me.”

The last sentence would sound better as, 'Try to be a good little girl for me.'

“Where are you going? What’s happening, Jimmy?”

Add 'I asked' after this sentence, or we have no idea what's happening.

I made no attempt to hide my despair, my horrible cries sounding ominously through the night.

I doubt she'd describe her own cries as being 'horrible.'

Overall Comments

I

I thought this was adorable, Ducati. The emotions were good, and whilst the last paragraph was just a bit cheesy/overdone, the final sentence was lovely, and really evoked the main character's feelings in that simplicity you've achieved well throughout the whole piece. I know I'm a sucker for a lot of description, so maybe I'm being too harsh when I say this piece needed a bit more detail. I know, I know, I always tend to over-describe, and you definitely don't have to do that because in this tory, I feel simplicity is your best attribute. It's just there's little details we need to know from the start.

For instance, I only realised your main character was female when they said, 'little sister,' and even then, I had to read back to make sure they weren't talking about something else. Maybe establish that she's female from the start. Have her mother call her 'Janey' or have her wearing a night dress instead of pyjamas. Something like that.

II

Your story needs to establish one, clear dominant impression. If, for example you are describing a snowfall, it is important for you to decide and to let your reader know if it is threatening or lovely; in order to have one dominant impression it cannot be both. The dominant impression guides the author's selection of detail and is thereby made clear to the reader in the thesis sentence.

The description you choose to put in can be objective or subjective, giving the author a wide choice of tone, diction and attitude. For instance, an objective description of one's dog would mention such facts as height, weight, coloring and so forth. A subjective description would include the above details, but would also stress the author's feeling toward the dog, as well as its personality and habits.

I think your best bet is just to insert a bit more concrete, sensory details.

III

Characterisation: I don't think that was a trait that apparent in this story. I know it's not the main aspect, but a bit more of your main character's personality made evident would have helped a lot. The characterisation when related to Jimmy was great, you really portrayed him well through his interactions with Janey and the way he comported himself with his parents, as well as what his little sister thought of him. Try to do the same for Janey. Really get to her core. Obviously, this isn't a novel so you don't have to go the whole hog with dreams, expectations, etc...

Appearance -But take a small time to actually explain what she looks like physically, which gives your reader a visual understanding of the character. and then move on to characterisation.
Actions - Show the reader what kind of person your character is, by describing actions rather than simply listing adjectives.
Speech - Develop the character as a person -- don't merely have your character announce important plot details.
Thought - Bring the reader into your character's mind, to show them your character's unexpressed memories, fears, and hopes.

IV

Anyway, I know it sounds like I was being harsh, but it's only because this story has potential. Overall, I really liked it. Wasn't quite poignant enough to make me cry, but you're getting there. It was sweet, concise, and cleverly got into a child of that age's mind.

Good luck and thanks for the read,

-Sarah

This was absolutely amazing.
I had almost no trouble reading it and I could see this becoming the beginning of a novel or a follow up short story. For example, a story explaining Jimmy's travels from his point of view or if the brother and sister ever reconnected later in life.
I think you did a good job of displaying an emotion vivdly and the main idea was very clear.
I was certainly very impressed because this piece of writing shows how we can take such a simple event and realize the true meaning.

9/10

Contact me if you need anymore reviews.

Hi Ducati,

sorry for the delay, but here's your review, as promised. Generally I liked you idea and Janey seems a very sweet little girl. I felt for her. However I do think I could feel more, with a little editing. =)

A couple of things:

1) I like the idea of telling the story in retrospection, because as a seven-year-old she doesn't understand everything and she most certainly doesn't know that her brother will die, but I don't know whether she would really introduce her story this way, because I disagree with the statement that it’s strange how we remember the things that determine us. If they were huge enough to determine who we become and it was a situation as shocking and intense as this one was for seven year-old Jamey, of course we remember them. Maybe rethink the word choice of “strange”, perhaps use “curious” or something else. May just be my personal opinion, but I’m no fan of “strange” in that place.

2) “I’ll bring you a present.” – Do you really think that’s what a loving older brother would tell his seven-year-old sister before going to war? Do you really think Jamey cared about presents that moment? Sure, children like presents, but I doubt she cared about one right then. She wanted to know what was going on and was confused. Also I doubt her brother would have offered one. This is about saying good-bye to someone you love and the biggest gift you can make is to come back, which is probably what Jamey would have wanted most.

3)

As if by magic all eyes turned to me and my eyes widened like a deer in the headlights..

A deer widens in the headlights? I think you mean a deer’s eyes.

4)

I always he had something important to say when he did that.

There’s something missing there, I think. I always knew he had something important to say… would work or perhaps He always did this when he had something important to say.

That’s all I have to criticize. Other than those things I thought this was a very sweet, sad story. You managed to have your narrator be the sweet little girl she probably still is somewhere inside and a grown up woman looking back on her childhood memory at the same time. The sentiment of the story was consistent and it was a nice, light read. Well done!

Hope this helped (and sorry again for the delay).

All the best,
~Kalliope