Young Writers Society

Deleted for re-write.
Can be found under new title of Broken But Not Crushed!
~day

Nice work! i don't have time to do a full review, but a few points:

--you have many easily fixable grammar and punctuation mistakes.
-- You don't put paragraphs between speech
-- you tend to have very long sentences.


overall, great job! I cannot wait to read more. If you get a chance, please review some of my work in Other Fiction, called First story part-- (number).

Hey Love, sorry it took me so long to get here, but I'm here. So lets get started!

Very well written, you have a very easy style of writing, that I enjoyed reading. You've done a great job with this, and it's a very good beginning for a story. There are a few points that need tweaking.

When you have dialog, put paragraphs between speaking.
It breaks it up so its not so clumped together, and makes it easier for the reader to get through.

''That was the police again, he said with a sigh, now they want us to surrender our radios.''

That, I believe should look like this:

''That was the police again," he said with a sigh, "now they want us to surrender our radios.''

If the Nazis found out, well we had all heard the rumors.

Now since this is a train of thought, I would think it would seem better like this:

If the Nazis found out... well, we had all heard the rumors.

I really think you've got a wonderful story here, I can't wait to read more. Great job!

Keep writing!

~Hope

Corrections are in red.

''You ought to have been more careful Anetke. This is hardly the time to lose a finger,'' she said teasingly before turning back to clean up the mess. I stopped her, ''No Mama let me do it,''placing a hand on her arm before turning to clean up the bloodied linoleum and soiled counter top myself. ''I know you and Papa are going out tonight, you need to go get ready. I'll take care of this,'' I said with a sweep of my bandaged hand. ''Are you sure?'' she asked me with a look of concern. I nodded and made a motion as if to shoo her away. You use shoo a lot. Can we come up with a different word? ''Don't forget to keep an eye on the roast and call your father from the study, tell him we'll be eating shortly,'' she said before hanging her apron on the hook and disappearing from the kitchen doorway.



Once she had left I made quick work of the kitchen, scooping the potatoes that hadn't been ruined into a kettle of boiling water on the stove and scraping the rest into the garbage. With a wet rag I cleaned the floor and counters until they were sparkling once again. I then retrieved three sets of dishes from the cubby beside the stove and proceeded to set the table. After checking the roast for doneness and being satisfied with what I saw, I whisked it out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove, inhaling the tantalizing aroma of fresh herbs.



Wiping my hands on my apron I undid the strings and headed for my father's study. I was excited to share my good news with him as well. Upon arriving outside the door I heard his raised voice. He was speaking with someone on the telephone and seemed none too pleased.



''How can you do this? You have no right!,'' my father shouted to the other end of the line. You don't need the comma. He was apparently cut off for he said nothing more and I heard the telephone slam into place. I hesitated for a moment before giving a timid knock on the polished oak. ''Yes?,'' I heard my father say. He sounded weary. ''Come in.'' I opened the door and saw my father's face break into a small smile. ''Anetke.'' ''Father, is there something wrong?,'' I asked him. ''That was the police again, he said with a sigh, now they want us to surrender our radios.'' I groaned. What would they possibly want next? The Nazis had already relieved us of many of our little everyday luxuries. Our food had been rationed and we were even denied entry into certain stores and shops. Weren't they also forced to wear the star of David on their clothes to identify themselves? Also, wouldn't the police just come and take the radios? Why would they call them?



This war was making our life and the lives of so many others in Berlin increasingly uncomfortable. At first it had not affected us and we lived our lives as if it did not exist but then Hitler proclaimed his hatred for not just the Poles and Americans but also for the Jews and the Aryans.

In fact he proclaimed his hatred for anyone who was not a full-blooded German. He called us the scum of the Earth. I'd never before witnessed such a blind hatred and it chilled me to the core. Especially since I was of Aryan descent. My mother was a Jew. My father was a German. They had fallen in love at a young age. At the time, nothing much was thought of the match. But now, it placed us in a very precarious position. If the Nazis found out, well we had all heard the rumors. I'd like to see more of the protagonist's emotions on this. I mean being called the scum of the Earth is pretty harsh. I want something a little more dramatic than being chilled.


I sighed, no longer excited to tell my father the good news. ''Supper's going to be ready in a few minutes,'' I told him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if trying to relieve some great pressure and then took a deep breath before nodding. I turned and left the room quietly.



When I reached the kitchen I saw my mother had finished getting ready and was straining the potatoes before preparing to mash them. She had re-placed her day dress with a beautiful emerald green evening gown with a bit of delicate lace tracing the modest neckline. She turned and saw me. ''Did you share your news with your Father?'' ''No..he was on the telephone,'' I replied. Puzzled by the look on my face she raised an eyebrow. ''It was the police again,'' I revealed quietly. ''They want our radios.'' Her face fell into a frown and she turned the potatoes over to me before heading for the study. I mashed them vigorously, pounding out my anger until they were as smooth as they would ever be. Just as I had placed them onto the dining room table along with the roast, both my parents came in. My father was in considerably better spirits and my mother had a smile on her face. We sat down to dinner and nothing more was said about the matter on the telephone. What has brought on this abrupt change in the mood? People don't get over matters like this just magically. Perhaps have them bicker about Hitler a little over dinner, so we can see more emotion from everyone.

Once again, I'd like more physical description about your characters. What does an ayran look like? What does her father look like? Right now the characters feel like characters and not real people.

Also, if you struggle with the proper punctuation of dialouge please read this article.