Young Writers Society

NOTE: This is my entry for a school short story competition on bullying. And I think the first work of mine I've decided to rate 16. So go on people. Rip it apart. Oh and suggestions for another name for the title would not go amiss. I'm not sure about the current one.

The Last Day

I woke up late that morning. It wasn't because my alarm clock was broken. It wasn't because I had drawn the blinds across tightly last night and no morning sunlight had stolen in to awake me. It wasn't because it was Friday and I didn't have the will to get up. It was because my spirit was broken. Because I knew I wasn't just going to school. I was going to Hell.

At 7:30--after half an hour of deliberation--I got up. I passed Mum's room but she was still sleeping. I wondered if she wouldn't wake up with another hangover. She probably would though. All she'd done since Dad passed was drink. Drink to wash away the sorrows. Drink to get away from her problems. Drink to get away from her short, fat, useless son.

The hot water of the shower scalded my body; the pain prepared me for later. When I'd be at Hell. As I imagined it, that pain yet to come, I shivered. The hot water did nothing to prevent this.

I'd dressed by 8:00 and was coming out of my room when I saw Mum. By her dishevelled hair and the look she gave me, I could tell that it was One of Those Days. She didn't have a hangover; she'd woken up drunk again.

There was silence, broken only by the tick of the grandfather clock. And then:

'Get out.' She slurred the words, but they were low and furious. The voice of a crazed woman. I started to back away towards the stairs. She was even more drunk than usual; she didn't even seem to recognize me.

She flew at me, shouting the same thing over and over: 'Get out! Thief! Robber! Get out!'

I wasn't fast enough and she clawed at my face; she hit me with her small fists. I turned and ran down the stairs, out the door, into the street. I didn't stop running until I was far away with a stitch in my side. Then I fell to the ground and breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in. Pause. Breathed out.


I was late. I arrived at ten past nine, and after signing in I crept along the hallways, taking in my personal Hell. The bleak grey walls. The long hallways. The air of death.

I reached English class in Room 32, and as usual Mr. Connors wasn't pleased to see me. He made a great show of declaring my lateness before he let me sit down. Finally he turned back to the rest of the class.

'Anyway, putting aside our most recent interruption,' he said, giving me a filthy look, 'can anybody quote a few lines from the story which shows just how much Macbeth was committed to his dark deed of killing King Duncan?' When nobody answered he added, 'Come on Year Tens. We've studied this for four weeks and your assessment is coming up very soon!'

I didn't raise my hand. I was unpacking my bag, slowly, when he answered and I broke out in a cold sweat.

'"I am settled and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat
Away, and mock the time with fairest show
False face must hide what false heart doth know.'"

I didn't need to turn around. Nor did I want to. Because I recognized Callum Doherty's voice, and I knew I was definitely in Hell now. In its deepest recesses.

'Well done, Callum!' Connors said from somewhere in the room. 'I don't regret your transfer to this set one bit!'

Hell. Hell. In deepest Hell.

I didn't turn around once. I didn't raise my hand to answer any questions. I remember Tuesday, when we'd been playing football. And that one, single mistake. I'd kicked at the ball to get it in the goal, but Callum was already out, trying to get the ball from me as was the goalie's job. And my foot had kicked his head as he dived for the ball. It was an accident. And yet I remembered his words afterwards:

'Wait and see. Just you wait and see. I'll get you back for this.'

All I could think of, all I could see, was his fists. Hitting me. Again and again. Behind the sports shed. In the school yard. In the boys' toilet. Again and again. His fists.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I spun around, my body tense, my legs ready to move. But it was just her. Just Wahida, the girl who always sat next to me in English.

'Are you okay?' she asked me. She stared at me, her brown eyes boring into mine. I looked away.

'I'm fine. Just a little hungry after skipping breakfast.' I turned away from her and shifted my seat away slightly. I didn't need anyone getting into my head now. I was set and decided.

I was sure Callum was staring at me. His cold grey eyes locked on the back of my head. Why couldn't he leave me alone?

I passed the lesson in silence, concentrating on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In.

When the bell rang, I was the first to jump up and run out of the room. I ran down the hall, fighting against the flow of the crowd: I had to get away from Callum. I headed to the boys' toilet and hid in a cubicle, locking it. No one else came in, and gradually the sounds of lesson transition died down. And I was alone.

I practised my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

My palms were sweaty, and it took me a long time to open the zip of my bag. It took me even longer to pick up the pill bottle. It slid out of my hands thrice, and then finally I got a good grip on it and held it to eye level.

Paracetamol. I used to take it before I knew the breathing technique, when the stress gave me headaches. They'd be of some more use yet.

I got out my water bottle and unscrewed the cap; I did the same for the pill bottle. And then I stood there with both in either hand. I went through my mental checklist.

I'd asked Mr. Grimby to look after Mum until I came back from school the night before. When this was all over, hopefully the Council would step in and help her. Because God know I couldn't.

I'd made my bed and tidied my room. I'd sold my goldfish, Harry, last week. And I'd bought enough food supplies to last a month.

I'd cleared my locker on Wednesday. I was all set.

Mum wouldn't remember me to miss me. I barely had any friends at school. It would be better to end it all here, Mum wouldn't have to see my body if she did remember. And I'd finally be able to get away from all of this. From Callum.

I practised my breathing. I breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in.

And I swallowed all the pills, washing them down with water.

The end would come soon, maybe in a half-hour. Then I'd finally be free. I unlocked the door and stepped out of the cubicle as the bell rang. I went to the sink and splashed some cold water on my face. People started to come in, but no one took any notice of me. I practised my breathing.

And then finally, Callum came. I knew that he would. Rain comes before the rainbow, doesn't it?

The other boys left as the warning bell rang, but Callum and his two cronies stayed behind. Callum was grinning. I felt sick.

'Didn't see you in P.E. today, Runt.' I winced at the name. His cronies sniggered as the three of them cornered me.

'Why didn't I see you, eh? Eh Runt? We played dodgeball. How I would have loved to smash your head in. Eh, Runt? Look up at me when I talk to you, you fat swine. Round as a stuffed pig you are. Probably gave your boozer Mum the wrong baby.'

'Little Runt,' his cronies chanted. 'Piggy, piggy, piggy Runt!'

I didn't look at them directly. I was still at the sink, watching them in the mirror. My palms were sweaty again. My stomach was hurting. I practised my breathing.

'Hmm, Runt? I really was looking forward to beating the crap out of you.'

I saw him look at his watch.

'I guess I could squeeze in five minutes. Don't want to be late for Physics, do we?' He laughed, loud and cold and long. I shivered. And then my hell started.



Callum moves first, slamming his fist into the back of my head. My face hits the mirror with force, and then one of my tormentors yanks my bag back; I fall to the floor.

My stomach hurts. My stomach hurts so much.

They all three start kicking me, shouting obscenities and: 'Squeal Runt, squeal! Squeal little piggy, squeal Runt squeal!'

They kick my head. They kick my back. They kick everywhere, and I begin to bleed from the cuts, to ache from the bruises. But I protect my stomach. It hurts so much, so much, and I don't want it to hurt anymore.

The seconds fly by in a blur of kicking, swearing, aching and whimpering. And then it's over. I lie on the floor, bleeding, sweating, whimpering and hurting.

I don't open my eyes when Callum laughs again. The left one is swollen anyway.

'How d'you like that, eh Runt?' His voice was right by my ear. 'Don't forget to pack your bag.'

As he says it my bag is ripped from my shoulder and I feel its contents fall on me, my English book, my water bottle, and the pill bottle. I hear the pills scatter across the floor.

One of them spits on me, and then I hear footsteps. Going away I think. I'm not sure, there is a roaring in my ears. I open my right eye and there are spots in front of me.

My vision begins to fade into blackness when I hear more footsteps. A face appears above me; it's blurry. Then for a minute everything comes into focus: Wahida's anxious expression, my arm in front of me, lying at an odd angle. The little white pills everywhere that she seems to notice. Or are those the spots again?

Wahida's mouth moves, but the world is silent. When she moves forward my vision blurs again and sound has returned. My stomach hurts so much.

'I was looking for you because you weren't in Biology, and then I saw Callum and those other two and then...Oh God. What have you done to yourself?' she says.

My stomach hurts.

'What have you done?'

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Pause.

Breathe out.

This is ok. What's missing in your story is hope, though. It's a bit depressing to read. The moral of the story seems to be: If life's too hard, kill yourself.
Also, there are a few things that seem unrealistic. First, the mum with alzheimers. Wouldn't she have some sort of system so she recognizes her own son every day? And the bullies. They wouldn't be as brutal as that: basically nearly killing him. I think they would be cleverer than that: either hitting where bruises aren't visible or psychologically torturing him.
Like i said, you need some kind of hope in your story. Whether it's someone that your MC can turn to when everything gets too much. Or maybe eventually he stands up for himself. Or gets back at them somehow.
Also, maybe you could show the bullies perspective too. Most of the time people become bullies because they are being bullied themselves. This would be quite difficult though because it's in the first person. Perhaps you could change the perspective. Or even have a section about the kid being bullied, then a section in first person about the bully. Right now they just seem a bit two dimensional. Stock bad guys. Just an idea, anyway.

TIGERSPRITE wrote: This is my entry for a school short story competition on bullying. And I think the first work of mine I've decided to rate 16.

Is your story allowed to be 16+?

Well, hi Tiger, Jai here to review as requested! :3

I woke up late that morning. It wasn't because my alarm clock was broken. It wasn't because I had drawn the blinds across tightly last night, because no morning sunlight had stolen in to awake me. It wasn't because it was Friday and I didn't have the will to get up. It was because my spirit was broken. Because I knew I wasn't just going to school. I was going to Hell.

This was an interesting beginning, but so many negatives that didn't make you late are hard to follow (if you know what I mean). Especially the highlighted sentence - it's backwards and sounds awkward.

At 7:30--after a half-hour of deliberation--I got up.

I would have said, "after half an hour of deliberation".

I passed Mum's room but she was still sleeping. I wondered if she'd remember me today. Probably not. Alzheimers stole her memory most mornings.

Woah, hold up. This story is completely about bullying, right? Keep it simple. Unless the other students tease the main character because of the mother, don't create a back story for her. This is a short story competition, so I imagine you have a word limit. There's about twenty words in those last three sentences that you can put towards describing the bullying.

The hot water of the shower scalded my body; the pain prepared me for later. When I'd be at Hell. As I imagined it, that pain yet to come, I shivered. The hot water did nothing to prevent this.

Use of short sentences is a good idea to cause tension. When you use too many short sentences too close together, continuously, your prose just becomes choppy. What was the hot water meant to be preventing?

She flew at me, shouting the same thing over and over: 'GET OUT! THIEF! ROBBER! GET OUT!'

I wasn't fast enough and she clawed at my face; she hit me with her small fists. I turned and ran down the stairs, out the door, into the street. I didn't stop running until I was far away with a stitch in my side. Then I fell to the ground and breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in. Pause. Breathed out.

While I absolutely loved the descriptive sentences you churned out here, I have to ask again if the mother is crucial to the story. I guess I'll find out soon With regards to the highlighted part: generally published literature doesn't contain dialogue in all caps. It's rare to find a book with words in all caps, so question your need for it. Could the same meaning be portrayed in a more descriptive, less eye-blinding way?

'Anyway, putting aside our most recent interruption (he gave me a filthy look), can anybody quote a few lines from the story which shows just how much Macbeth was committed to his dark deed?'

I love the use of asides like this, but you'll find it is a quite outdated form of writing. You're better off with: "our most recent interruption," he shot me a filthy look, "can anyone..." Most casual readers will assume the bracketed words are actually being said by the teacher. For those not familiar with the story of Macbeth, you could always slip in some more description about the question, "how much Macbeth was committed to (insert his dark deed here)"

'Well done, Callum!' Connors somewhere in the room. 'I don't regret your transfer to this set one bit!'

Can I ask why you've chosen the singular ('), as opposed to the more common double (")?

I didn't turn around once. I didn't raise my hand to answer any questions. All I could think of, all I could see, was his fists. Hitting me. Again and again. Behind the sports shed. In the school yard. In the boys' toilet. Again and again. His fists.

Hmm, your story was really good up to now, very believable, but I'm not quite sure about this part. Rarely in today's society is someone actually physically harmed due to bullying. You might want to reconsider the type of bullying that you're choosing to portray. Do a little bit of research. If this story is drawn from personal experience, then I retract what I've said.

I passed the lesson in silence, just concentrating on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In.

You might want to mention the paranoia your character is feeling. I know that I felt as if my nemisis was watching me, making petty jokes about me to her friends. At her laugh I cringed and when I heard whispers I tried to melt into my seat.

I headed to the boys' toilet and hid in a cubicle, locking it. No one else came in, and gradually the sounds of lesson transition died down. And I was alone.

Your main character is male? Perhaps you should make that a bit more clear at the beginning. I seriously thought he was a girl.

It slid out of my hands thrice, and then finally I got a good grip on it and held it to eye level.

Painkillers.

What sort of painkillers? Aspirin? Panadol? Anything stronger or more potent would have to be prescribed.

And I swallowed 10 pills, washing them down with water.

I'm amazed. EDIT: always spell numbers under 100 with words. ie, ten, not 10.

'Little Runt,' his cronies chanted. 'Piggy, piggy, piggy Runt!'

Flashback to Lord of the Flies, in year 12 English.

I didn't look at them. I was still at the sink, watching them in the mirror.

Contradiction. "I didn't look at them directly."

...

I really have nothing to say. This was very well written, fantastically well written. There were little errors and it was all completely believable. The only suggestions I can make:

1) The beginning. It needs to be scraped or changed. A mother with Alzheimer's at such a young age (I'm assuming 30-40). Wikipedia says: early-onset AD, is the term used for cases of Alzheimer's disease diagnosed before the age of 65. It is an uncommon form of Alzheimer's, accounting for only 5-10% of all Alzheimer's sufferers. With this in mind, it seems odd that your character's mother has that disease. I think you should run with the angle of an abusive mother/father. Someone who genuinely wouldn't care if her son died. Maybe your main character walks past her room and her latest boyfriend is snoring on top of her, his leather jacket well-worn and smelt foul. Also, I can't for the life of me remember your character's name - did you ever give him one? Or did you want him to appear truly anonymous? With regards to Wahida - very odd name. For this short story you should give a generic name that is common. You want to portray suicide and bullying as common-day occurrence, right? Then the names should be common too.

2) You should probably mention why your main character is bullied. His he fat? Is he dumb? Is he gay? Is he poor? Is he of an ethnic minority/majority? Anything to give you character more substance, more form in the mind's eye when one imagines him.

3) A rough indication of age (more than the subjects) would be beneficial. No year 12 student bully would stop at calling someone "piggy". That's something a primary school student would use as a taunt. Callum was shown to be intelligent in the English class. Maybe have him saying, "Obese little porker. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. Don't you know you're pathetic? A worthless bag of filth?" or, "Ten thousand sperm and you were the fastest?"

4) The only other thing that I can't see as believable is the pills. Maybe he had his mother's sleeping pills and her pain killers, and mixed them together. A person wanting to commit suicide and actually die would not take chances. They wouldn't just take ten pills, they'd swallow the whole bottle.

So, overall, I really liked this story. I would like some more background on why the main character was so bullied. What's the word limit? Parameters/rules of the contest?

Hope I helped, and don't hesitate to reply directly to this thread with any comments or queries regarding my review!

- Jai

@ leebass It is quite depressing isn't it? Actually this is the most depressing thing I've written. It was going to have a happy ending at first, but then I decided that I didn't want to do that about halfway.

Also, there are a few things that seem unrealistic. First, the mum with alzheimers. Wouldn't she have some sort of system so she recognizes her own son every day? And the bullies. They wouldn't be as brutal as that: basically nearly killing him. I think they would be cleverer than that: either hitting where bruises aren't visible or psychologically torturing him.

A system? I don't really understand what you mean by that. And you think the bullies wouldn't be so brutal? Hmm, I don't know. They wouldn't exactly get caught because of what I call the Snitching Rule: You don't snitch on schoolmates. Especially ones who can beat you up. At least, that's the sort of thing that happened in my old school. But thanks for pointing it out anyway; I'll go over that.

Also, maybe you could show the bullies perspective too. Most of the time people become bullies because they are being bullied themselves. This would be quite difficult though because it's in the first person. Perhaps you could change the perspective. Or even have a section about the kid being bullied, then a section in first person about the bully. Right now they just seem a bit two dimensional. Stock bad guys. Just an idea, anyway.

I was going to give Callum a whole POV, but I had to cut it out because of the word count. It's nearly 10,000 as it is and I don't want the school rejecting it (it would have helped if they'd given us a max word count though, which they didn't).

Anyway, thanks for the review.

@seeminglymeaningless

Is your story allowed to be 16+?

I haven't got a clue, actually. Our head of year announced the competition in assembly and gave us no details other than that it should be about bullying and must be submitted by November 29th.

1) The beginning. It needs to be scraped or changed. A mother with Alzheimer's at such a young age (I'm assuming 30-40). Wikipedia says: early-onset AD, is the term used for cases of Alzheimer's disease diagnosed before the age of 65. It is an uncommon form of Alzheimer's, accounting for only 5-10% of all Alzheimer's sufferers. With this in mind, it seems odd that your character's mother has that disease. I think you should run with the angle of an abusive mother/father. Someone who genuinely wouldn't care if her son died.

Thanks for this; an abusive parent would probably fit better. I actually didn't check the age of Alzheimers.

Also, I can't for the life of me remember your character's name - did you ever give him one? Or did you want him to appear truly anonymous? With regards to Wahida - very odd name. For this short story you should give a generic name that is common. You want to portray suicide and bullying as common-day occurrence, right? Then the names should be common too.

Hehe, by not giving him a name I was trying to show that it could happen to pretty much anyone and everyone, if you understand. But maybe I should give him a name. And about Wahida: I wasn't sure what to call the girl and I just asked a friend who offered her name. Plus the majority of my school is Asian, so I wanted to throw in something that showed this. But with names like Callum and Connors, I do admit that it sticks out.

2) You should probably mention why your main character is bullied. His he fat? Is he dumb? Is he gay? Is he poor? Is he of an ethnic minority/majority? Anything to give you character more substance, more form in the mind's eye when one imagines him.

Like pretty much all your comments, I shall edit the story to reflect this. I knew I was missing something.

3) A rough indication of age (more than the subjects) would be beneficial. No year 12 student bully would stop at calling someone "piggy". That's something a primary school student would use as a taunt. Callum was shown to be intelligent in the English class. Maybe have him saying, "Obese little porker. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. Don't you know you're pathetic? A worthless bag of filth?" or, "Ten thousand sperm and you were the fastest?"

That it true; Callum is portrayed as intelligent in English. So I'll have to change that. And add that they're in Year 10.

4) The only other thing that I can't see as believable is the pills. Maybe he had his mother's sleeping pills and her pain killers, and mixed them together. A person wanting to commit suicide and actually die would not take chances. They wouldn't just take ten pills, they'd swallow the whole bottle.

True. I'll have him swallow all the pills in the bottle.

So thanks for the awesome review, Jai! I'm going to go over this now.

TIGERSPRITE

I just meant that she would have something telling her she has a son and not to kick him out of the house every day. Notes written in her handwriting so she knows she wrote it. Like in Memento.

Yo. Tiger. 'Tis me.

I'm a bit of a creep, so I like depressing stories. The only short stories I've written have all been depressing, so yeah... I'll probably like this even more because of that. I'm not going to get all nit-picky with you because Jai has already done that, plus there aren't that many in here anyway... You're too skilled. The main reason though is because I'll be able to concentrate more on the important, deeper stuff.

I like the beginning of this. It's a kind of Dun, Dun, Duuuun moment. You set up a great foundation to the story in the first paragraph, making me want to read on. That's always a good thing! For some reason though, it's probably just me, I wasn't keen on the line about your MC's spirit being broken. I think it might be because the rest of the lines, except for the last one, are quite subtle. That one felt a little... Well, not subtle. It might just be me though...

I know that I said I wasn't going to get all nit-picky on you, but hey, I suck at sticking to things. There is one little thing that I'd like to bring up. Nothing big, just something I noticed.

She flew at me, shouting the same thing over and over: 'GET OUT! THIEF! ROBBER! GET OUT!'

I dont' like capitals... I genuinely have a random dislike to them. I think it's because, to me, they make a piece of writing look a lot less professional. Considering your writing is great, things like this pull it down a little. In the end, it's up to you whether you use capitals or not, but I thought I'd just warn you about what I think of them... Also, form past experiences, I know that a lot of people would agree with me. Just something for you to consider.

Something I noticed here when it came to grammar was your use of periods and commas. You seemed to be using a lot of short sentences, which is fine, but I thought that they were used a little too much. Sometimes I think that they were used at the wrong times. Short sentences work a treat for tension and suspense, but in the middle of a story, for no real reason can be a bit off putting. Instead of using periods, sometimes it is best to use commas. The beginning of this is a perfect example of you using short sentences effectively. The problem I'm having is the random short sentences in the middle. That's not too much of an issue though.

I think I have to agree that I found the girl's name a little... odd. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for exotic names, but I don't think that it suited this story very well. You said that you didn't name your MC to show that bullying and all of that could happen to anyone, right? Well, giving a character a name like Wahida drifts away form that quite a lot because, come on, how many people do you know who are called Wahida? It's not an everyday name, therefore, you trying to show that bullying is an everyday thing struggles a bit.

Speaking of Wahida, how come she was in the guys's toilet? It seems a little odd to me. I don't tend to randomly go into the boys toilets to check for unconscious kids. Had she seen the bullies running out of the toilets and gone to investigate or something? If that is the case, maybe you could have Wahida asking your MC about it, even though he can't answer. It would just make it more believable, I think. Another thing I'd like to bring up about the toilet scene is that overall, it's maybe a bit unrealistic. Would a group have boys really beat someone up in school? Surely, they'd realise how much trouble they could have gotten into, especially considering the amount of damage they appeared to do. Wouldn't they have thought to beat him up after or before school? Just a thought.

Negatives aside, this was wonderfully written, Tiger. Well, I'm not sure if wonderful is the right word for a depressing story, but hey, you get the idea. I seriously think that you have a great chance at winning that school competition, otherwise, I am so suing your school. With a little bit of editing, I can certainly see this turning into an even more epic short story. You've actually given me an idea for a short story now... And I never write short stories, especially for something that isn't a competiton! Thanks for that.

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins

Hullo!

I'm not going to do any little nit-picks because seeminglymeaningless seems to have done that pretty well, and I didn't notice many mistakes or awkward moments.

So, onto the review. This was really powerful -- and depressing. You have done well with making the world that the main character lives in be really dark. He has absolutely no need to keep living. His mother not only doesn't recognize him, but is actively violent to him. His teachers don't give him any reason to like his classes. And he hates school because he is bullied. Wahida could has the potential to be a ray of light, but mostly he just wants her to stop bothering him, because he can't afford for anyone to be concerned about him. It's not part of his plan. I loved the repetition of the breathing theme. It tied the whole thing together, and even though you said it a lot, in each instance it meant something slightly different about the character's emotions.

I liked that the main character was unnamed. But if you want to make it so he could be "anybody," instead of someone in particular, I think you could do more with that. His mother seems too strange for me to consider him "anybody." Having a drunk mother who doesn't recognize you as her child and beats you up is not something a lot of people can relate to (at least I don't think it is... I hope it isn't...). Maybe make her simply oblivious to the child? Teens often feel that their parents don't see them, don't really understand them -- you can exaggerate on that, but I think you've done so a bit too much. She's over-the-top wacko. It takes the emphasis of the story away from bullying and instead makes it about depression and a rough life in general. You could make her barely seem to notice her son, and when she does she says things that show that she doesn't know him at all. You could make her so interested in her circle of friends or gossip or whatever she's into that she doesn't realize her son has been bullied and is so miserable he's preparing for his own death.

On that note, I think there should be more suicide-preparation. Here, let me explain. The story starts out with the main character not wanting to wake up because he doesn't want to be in his Hell. Everything that happens over the course of the story reminds him (which makes him remind us) that he is living in Hell. But the tone feels resigned. Makes it seem like he isn't going to do anything about it, when actuality he is. He has plans, and he has been making preparations -- for weeks. This touches a little on what leebass said: there isn't any hope. That struck me, too, when I was reading it. I think death has to be his hope. He has to be looking forward to the release through the whole story. You don't have to say it explicitly, but there should (I think, anyway) be a little note of "yes, this is bad, but it will all be over soon..." alongside the mentions of the Hellishness of his world. We should see the light at the end of his tunnel the whole time, but not realize until he is taking the pills that it is the headlamp of a fast-approaching train.

Since people seem to be bothered by this, let me just say I don't mind the name Wahida at all. I like it! And I don't think all characters need to be named John and Mary. ^.~ But I would like to see a little more of the relationship between her and the main character. Is she just a girl that sits next to him in English? I'm not recommending a romance, but I have to wonder -- are they friends? From the way he was shuttering her out of his life, it seemed to me that he was friends with her, but he didn't want to be. He didn't want to have the complication of someone missing him. He'd rather ignore her so he wouldn't feel bad about leaving her. I wonder what she is like (does she have other friends? Is she bullied as well?) but you don't need to go into that, because MC doesn't want to think about her, and it's told from his perspective. But I think he would be thinking about whatever is between them, whether he wanted to or not.

Oh, and I think the title is good -- especially if you add some of that "light at the end of the tunnel" I mentioned. Then, the whole time someone's reading they'll wonder if maybe he's moving? Running away? They won't know, but it will add a sense of some big change/decision coming up.

Overall, I can't say I like this because that makes me feel like there's something wrong with me -- the story is to disturbing. I shouldn't like it. So let's just say I was very moved by it. I'm not sure what the exact details are about this contest, of course, but I know it's about bullying, so I recommend putting more emphasis on that. This mainly means what I brought up with the mother -- make bullying the biggest of his problems, not just the straw that broke his back (gosh, I'm full of clichés today, aren't I?!). Make MC's situation a little more ordinary (but not too ordinary!) and he will be more easily related-to. Right now, I don't feel much connection to him -- I just think "what a poor, messed-up kid. Everything that could go wrong for him has."

Anyhow, I'll end my rambling there. I hope you can find something useful somewhere in what I said. >.< PM me or post on my wall if you have any questions/comments/agruements/defenses to any of my points. ^.^

Good luck with the contest!
a

Thanks for all the reviews guys! I'm trying to implement some of your comments and ideas now. I will win this competition yet! :p

Hey, Sprites! (I keep wanting to spell it Spirte!)
So, I'm here to review but it seems like you've gotten so many nice reviews already and Jai is amazing at nitpicking the main things so I won't go deep into that part. I'll be like skins and comment on the overall aspect of this story.

With that said, let's start from the beginning. I felt like you opener was quite dramatic and it captured my interest. You're quite skilled at always pulling me into a story and I always find myself absorbed into your tales. ^^
His mother is little weird, I can only imagine a parent being so drunk in the morning that she'd forget her own child. It seems a little weird and I think you can do without that part really because it's not necessary. We already know his mother is abusive and possibly insane but why would she forget her child? I've seen people in the drunk states but none of them actually 'forgets' at least not from what I've seen.

The shower part was great, I felt like it really connected to the whole bullying theme here and I felt his dread. I like how you slowly built the tense atmosphere and the part where he ran out and fell on the ground almost made my heart ache. It was sad and the repetition of breathing in and out was just great. I seriously loved it, Sprite.

I want to talk about the bully for a second. Actually, the reason why he picks on our protagonist doesn't seem to be that great. Just because of a freak accident he decides to ruin this kids life? Goodness, it's terrible and why haven't the teachers noticed anything? As far as I know, teachers have a duty and if they see something such as bruised kids and black eyes then they do have the authority to bring that child in for questioning no? If they are in an abusive household and/or are being bullied, it's not something they should pass by. Considering that this beating has been going on for a time and that he is left kicked and bruised and cut, how come no one has noticed until this point? If it was recent, I could understand by for weeks, behind sheds in the bathroom?

The ending was sad, I agree with Leebass about it being very depressing but not all stories end nicely and the truth hurts. I do like the ending even though...just so sad and you've written this quite beautifully. I wish you all the best in the competition, Sprites.

Hope I helped some,
-Shear

Hi Tiger :3 Back to rereview, seeing as you've changed some things. I love it when people listen to the reviews. Makes YWS worthwhile

It wasn't because it was Friday and I didn't have the will to get up. It was because my spirit was broken.

Something I didn't notice earlier. Wouldn't this make more sense if it was a Monday? No one wants to go back to school on a Monday after enjoying a weekend.

I was late. I arrived at ten past nine, and after signing in I crept along the hallways, taking in my personal Hell.

Another thing I didn't notice earlier, though this is so small, I guess no one would pick it up. Every other time you told the... time... you used numerals. 8:00, 7:30. Why say ten past nine here?

I remember Tuesday, when we'd been playing football. And that one, single mistake. I'd kicked at the ball to get it in the goal, but Callum was already out, trying to get the ball from me as was the goalie's job. And my foot had kicked his head as he dived for the ball. It was an accident. And yet I remembered his words afterwards:

'Wait and see. Just you wait and see. I'll get you back for this.'

While I can see you've added a motive, now I'm going to complain about the severity of the situation in terms of realism. You earlier mentioned it was Friday. So Tuesday to Thursday is only two days. In those two days:

1) Your main character has talked to a trusted elderly friend to take care of his mother
2) Sold his goldfish
3) Cleaned out his locker on Wednesday
4) Absolutely planned out his suicide for Friday

After only two days of abuse. I know you were trying to cancel out the suspicion people would feel if they saw you main character with bruises everywhere by allocating on a few days for the bullying, but the chronological time doesn't fit anymore. Unless you mean last Tuesday which is better, but still, a week and half of abuse isn't enough to send someone to take their own life.

So I think you should expand the time frame to a month or so. Also I think Runt should go out with a bang, something that would make Callum want to hurt him more than ever before - something that made him so furious that after carefully attacking Runt as to not leave visible bruises, Callum completely loses control. What I would suggest is Callum quoting the wrong lines during the English class, and Runt answering correctly straight after. Then there'd be a silence throughout the room, and Runt feel Callum's anger. Now see, throughout your story Runt isn't afraid. He's just eager to get out of Hell. He practises his breathing to make himself feel calm. I think you can get away with Runt having a small victory - something that makes the reader think that Runt isn't actually as worthless as he's set up to be.

'Are you okay?' she asked me. She stared at me, her brown eyes boring into mine. I looked away.

'I'm fine. Just a little hungry after skipping breakfast.' I turned away from her and shifted my seat away slightly. I didn't need anyone getting into my head now. I was set and decided.

Of course, if you altered your story to reflect what I said above, Wahdia would have to say something else. I think Azila said something about wanting to know the relationship between Wahdia and Runt. Here's a good chance to show the reader that Wahdia knew about the beatings. ie: "Are you crazy? Showing Callum up like that? You know what he's going to do to you."

'I guess I could squeeze in five minutes. Don't want to be late for Physics, do we?' He laughed, loud and cold and long.

Here I thought you meant Runt and Callum were both in Physics, but later on you go to say that Wahdia didn't see Runt at Biology. Another quick thing - in Australia high school students don't get "specialised" classes until year eleven, so year tens would be doing Science, not chemistry/physics/biology.

As he says it my bag is ripped from my shoulder and I feel its contents fall on me, my English book, my water bottle, and the pill bottle. I hear the pills scatter across the floor.

While this was a completely awesome description in the original, you've changed the story to allow for Runt swallowing all the pills. So why did pills spill out of the bottle? Maybe you could replace the pills with pencils from an open pencil case. The pill bottle can still roll out, but Wahdia can notice that it's empty.

Yup, so that's all I could find during Round Two :3 Your short story should win. The only reason why it potentially wouldn't is because of the violence. But then again, isn't bullying about the violence? The only other reason is that the entry that beats yours is just a tad more clever. As in, it's about cyber-bullying, or "peer-pressure" to drink. The stuff that everyone knows about, but the teachers love to read about.

Anyway.

Love the new edition

- Jai