Young Writers Society

When he next looked up, Tom was alone in the one-roomed cottage he and his Mum had shared for so long. Now it was just him. Alone in the world, with no one to love.
He was sitting on one of the chairs the Special Investigators had used. It was in the centre of a room with peeling wallpaper and a couch that sported less stuffing than a pillow. Apart from that, there was only a low wooden table which needed sanding and an extra leg.
One, solitary picture frame hung on the wall.
It was a portrait of Christ with a crown of thorns on his head, crying out to God.
So much for God. What had he ever done for anyone? Tom had once heard his Mum say that God was simply an idea which some weird person had thought up to help people that wanted answers. Well, here’s a question then, Tom thought angrily. Why? Why did his Mum have to die? Why was he the one who had to endure this suffering? Answer that.
He never considered for a moment why his mother had kept the picture at all though, and this would prove to be a bad mistake.
Suddenly, everything dragging his broken spirit down and crushing it, became so huge he could no longer hold it inside. Tom Manson, tough guy and street kid, broke down and cried his heart out. He sat there weeping and sobbing, head on knees, surrounded be four wooden, unfeeling walls. Alone and heartbroken. Sitting in an empty room with nothing but sorrow, his sobs bouncing off the walls and echoing round the room. To Tom Manson, it felt like his grief had been amplified and broadcast to the whole world.
But the world didn’t care.

He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until he opened his puffy eyes. In fact, Tom didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but he knew it must have been ages ago since the sky outside the window was darker. Just like his thoughts. And all his sorrow was still there, weighing down on his heart, overpowering it. A burden that would be carried for a while yet.
Why? Again he asked that simple question. And got no answer. He felt bleak and empty, like there was no point in anything at all, no point for life. He needed to get away. Away from this place that reminded him so much of his mother, of her life, and now of her death. Tom got up from his chair and walked out the rickety door, leaving some of his sadness behind, but taking the heaviest part with him.
Outside it was busy. A normal workevening for most people, unaware of the boy standing on the walkway, shattered, his whole life changed in a few moments spent with two Special Investigators.
They had no idea, none at all, of what this skinny kid was going through right now.
Tom and his Mum had lived beside a small but well-kept church building, befitted with flower gardens and a neat brick path leading to the main door. Somebody had said it was a Baptist church, but Tom wasn’t sure-nor did he care. He couldn’t remember how many times they’d sat on their steps and watched people going happily in, to praise God or whatever they did in there. Weren’t people like that supposed to be loving and caring, helping people in need? Yeah, well forget it. Alice Manson and her son had lived beside that church all their lives, watching people every Sunday, going in to pray for others and they hadn’t done one single thing for her and her boy. Not one. And yet, someone must have noticed their run down shack, sitting right beside their beloved church building, but still they turned a blind eye. Tom no longer wanted to watch those hypocrites, singing little hymns every Sunday and being so selfish. They were no more than dust for all he cared.
He walked over to the fence that separated their house from the church grounds and spat in the garden. “Look what’s happened now, you stupid idiots! My Mum’s dead and you did nothing at all to help her, nothing! You can go singing to God all you want, but I hope he doesn’t hear you. I hope you all starve to blinkin’ death.” Tom shouted at the empty building and turned away. Across the street a few heads turned and one lady shook her head sadly. Probably thinking he was a maniac. Well, good, Tom thought. I’d rather be a maniac than one of those stinking church-goers.

Interesting.....no...Intreaguing... I like this, although you spent more time on description, rather than dialogue, and I think you almost over did it....
I prefer it when you make any spoken sentances on another line, it makes it a lot easier to read, and you can distuinguish conversations a lot better that way.

Here is my review:

“surrounded be four wooden..” change to ‘by’: “surrounded by four wooden”.
“rickety door” Try not to use the same words too often, you can change rickety door to ‘broken door’ as he lives in a shack that is really old since Tom’s mother lived there all her life.
“Tom wasn’t sure-nor did he care” I think there is suppose to be a space after ‘sure’ and ‘nor’: “Tom wasn’t sure - nor did he care”.
“they’d sat on their steps Change to: the.

This is really good and it’s interesting how Tom’s mother never really believed in God yet she has a picture of Christ in one of the rooms (which you didn’t tell us if it was a bedroom or living room!). When you descibed the room you could have said something like: Tom and his mother used the room as a living-room, there was not much to do in there apart from sitting on the chairs. Tom remembered the times when he and his mother often prefered to sit on the floor rather than the chairs from fear of breaking them... etc, etc, etc.

When Tom is thinking to himself, try to use italic so we know what he’s think and what he actually says.

You could have added a little more about the area Tom lives in and maybe a few memories he has of his childhood there. You never mentioned his father, does Tom have any memories of who his father is or does he not want to know?

It was a good read, more please

Thanks Nox. you've been the most helpful reviewer i've met on this site!

Now it's up to me to make the changes...

Anyway, I'm halfway through the third part, but I promise to re-edit the other two chapters when I'm done. K?

I'd rather do it all at the end.

You're welcome Micah!

When you've finished part three let me know and I'll review it. More, more more!

Thanks, I've just finished now. Here you go!