Young Writers Society

Beth

Of course I was mad. I was very mad. I was severely angered. I glanced at the stick in my hands once again. Really? I mean come on. I was pregnant. Well, technically I still am, but looking back five months ago I can remember how pissed I was at the world. I was pretty pissed. It's not something you expect to see everyday when you go to the bathroom with the test in your hand. I remember what my mother had said to me when I was thirteen "You'll go off and get yourself pregnant with those nasty clothes of yours," My mother didn't approve of about anything I did, so her comment hadn't phased me at the time. Now. Where am I now? I am sitting in the adoption office, ready to hand my darling daughter and son over to anyone willing to take them. I twirl my hair and look around me at the different faces. One woman looks about my age. I smile, good for her, we can both sign up for 16 and pregnant on MTV. I laugh to myself with that thought causing the older woman sitting next to me to look uncomfortable. I felt bad for her, she wasn't young, she shouldn't be giving her child away. I shouldn't be giving my children away. I stand up, tired of sitting and walked toward one of the mirrors they had there. Then standing before it I wonder why on earth they have a mirror in an adoption office. Do they want you to look yourself in the eyes before you give everything you'll ever love away? Or do they want you to see what you did to yourself, the pain you caused the ones or one within you? I don't know, or want to care. I stretch my arms and see a happy couple talking to the other young girl, I feel like crying for her. Why does the couple have to act so happy? Just because you can give her kids a great life doesn't mean it's easy for her. Jerks. I glance back at myself again and suddenly think of Paul, I think on what he did when he had found out. He had laughed. He pulled his head back and laughed. I mean why wouldn't he, we have only dated for five months (which by the way is my longest relationship ever, and he was only my second boy-friend). After he was done being jolly, he told me that he wasn't going to take care of no kids. I figured. I stop looking at myself now because it's too heartbreaking. Instead I look at the crowd once again.

Narrator

There was a strange type of silence in the adoption room that summer. It was the silence of sad mothers, single or married, ready to give their life away. Many would decide to drink once coming home. Some would hide their pain through sleeping with their husbands and some, some would just go ahead and let their tears get them to sleep. Beth was the woman that would refuse to feel it. She would cover it up with anger or her studies, after all she still needed to graduate. She was a sophomore, and the youngest mother there, she looked like it too. Her long dark brown hair and round and child-like features--like her larger than life greenish-blue eyes--made her look almost thirteen. Many potential parents passed her by, because they noticed her young age. 'She's too young,' they thought, as if taking a baby from one who was too young was the worst crime. It was a crime, but no worse than the others, and a crime that later becomes a gift. Beth was not a popular girl at school, in fact not many people knew who she was. Beth also was not considered beautiful among her male classmates or age-mates.Which was what caused her to dress so immodestly at a young age. Beth was also neglected, many times she was forgotten at the mall, or her parents didn't come to her recital and such things. This was because her mother wanted to be an actress, and her father an expert scholar. With all their aspired dreams, there was just no place for her. "Bethany Richardson," The small woman twirled around. Everyone had noticed her by the mirror and so everyone watched as she looked away from it for the fiftieth time. "Yes, Bethany, we have someone who has scheduled an appointment with you," the woman nodded. "You both may meet in the greet and meet center, would you like me to escort you?" Bethany nodded. The woman behind the desk which the voice belonged to, personally walked around it and started down the hall, hoping Bethany would follow her.

Nancy

I knew this woman was under-aged the moment I glanced at her. Now hearing her footsteps behind mine, I am sure she shouldn't be keeping her child. I finally snap my silence, stop and say "Bethany (may I call you that?), I think you should know that I am a single mother." I was starting to get nervous because the young lady looked like she was about to punch me in the face for talking. "I just-just want-t you to know that I-I I'm not, I mean, it's not easy. I know it's going to be hard to say yes to a woman calming to be able to give your kids everything. I know because a similar occurrence happened to me, I was young, I was pregnant. Everyone judged me and to be honest, I really wanted to give my kids away. But when it came time to sit and talk about it, I refused. I had my mind made up, they are MY kids. Anyway. Now MY kids are suffering to find food on the table, and they don't get the toy they want for Christmas, now as a mother who loves her kids, do I want the best for them, or do I want them?" Bethany just stared. Her mind had flown into the world of a mother's love. I knew that look.

Elise

I fumbled with my fingers for what seemed like two hours before the precious young lady stood before me. I smile, it's instinct. She just glares at me, fighting me with her eyes. "Hi, I'm Elise Ronwind, and I own a company called--"

"Hi, please no small talk, I just want to ask you three questions, you answer them right, you get my kids," I was amazed. This lady, Beth I believe, is hiding her feelings from me, maybe from everybody. Her eyes look caved in even though they are beautiful, and her face looks tired and ravaged with make-up. I look directly into those large sullen eyes, "Okay," I say softly. "First, why do you want to adopt kids? I can see your either single or your husband or boyfriend didn't show," I nod.
"Yes, I'm single" I say, smiling into those rejecting eyes.

Hmmm, I like your story here but I'm not too sure about it. I like how you put four perspectives into this and I do agree with you that this may need some work. What I wasn't too sure about was the narrator's part.

It was a strange type of quiet in the adoption room that summer. It was the quiet of sad mothers, single or married, ready to give their life away. Many would decide to drink once coming home. Some would hide their pain through sleeping with their husbands and some, some would just go ahead and let their tears get them to sleep. Beth was the woman that would refuse to feel it

This is good but it sounds a little amateur. Like you're trying to be dramatic but you just went a little too much and not subtle.

You could say,

There was an unusual silence in the adoption room this summer. It was the silence of sad mothers, either single or married, ready to give their life away. To erase the pain (if the source of their sorrow is pain<---this is a note from me. Don't put that in your story) , many would go home for a heavy drink while some would hide their pain through the love they would get from their partners, but mainly, all would just go ahead and let their tears rock them to sleep. Beth was the only one who refused to make any of those options.

Next,

eth was also neglected, many times she was forgotten at the mall, or her parents didn't come to her recital and such things. This was because her mother was a wanna be actress, and her father an expert scholar.

Yeah, calling the mom a wannabe actress doesn't sound too professional. You could say amateur or unskilled.

When you do narration, make sure it sounds subtle but still manages to grab the attention of the reader. It's hard but I have much faith in you. Good luck and keep writing.

Well, the concept and the presentation along with the ideology of describing the whole affair is very good. the POVs of al the characters, including the narrator's had their own different personality and feeling towards the situation.

I agree with the above reviewer as well. It is important that the Narrator be of a neutral personality. And using euphemism is a must if the narrator would like to make it sound derivative. I guess apart from this slight error in speech for the narrator, the whole story is well laid out. I get the clear idea of Beth, who is undecided as to whether she would like to give her baby away or not and Nancy, a speculator who feels emphatic towards Beth as well as Elise, who, despite her own flaws/oddities, is still willing to adopt.

All in all, the subject of adoption is indeed an important one and needs some light to be shed on it. Great job writing this and keep the ink flowing

I agree with both reviews! I just practically scribbled this down. It is very amateur (maybe unskilled could be rethought) to write her mother was a wanna be actress. The point of view there was wrong. Thank you murtuza for your review, and thanks for pointing out each of my characters: Elise, Beth and Nancy! I do have a long way to go!