The Unveiled Truth

Dean
(Baghdad, Iraq, 2003)

The ground outside was steaming from the heat of the hanging sun. I dared not step out onto the blazing floor barefoot. I slipped on my father’s sandals - still too big on me - and ran outside to play with my cousins.

The town of Al Hilla was bustling today, as usual. Merchants on the street spoke rapidly and persuasively to unwilling customers, taxi drivers honked their horns at children ignorantly running around the roads, and the neighbors were conversing with each other in a way that would have made anyone who didn’t speak Arabic think they were having a fight.

My mother had run across the street to the market five minutes ago to buy some eggs. Noora, my nine-year-old sister, was scraping out a layout of hopscotch on the cracked sidewalk and explaining the game to our younger cousins surrounding her. Inside, my father was having tea and watching the soccer game on the tiny television set with my uncles.

I crossed the length of the sidewalk and turned down the stone alley where my three older cousins, Ali and both Mohammads were playing. I joined them in their incomplete game of soccer. It was a little difficult to play in my father’s big sandals. I kept tripping over the soles every time I tried to kick the ball into the goal, and my cousins took advantage of that. Finally I decided to just take my shoes off, for the ground was cool in this area due to the shade.

After about twenty minutes, the call for afternoon prayers reverberated across the sky. My cousins stopped playing and scurried back to the house to make it on time. I put my father’s shoes back on and trailed after them.

As soon as I stepped out of the alleyway, the world quivered beneath my feet, followed by a noise that clapped as loud as a thousand thunderstorms. My hands flew up to cover my ears and I tumbled onto the hot, shaking ground. The heat seared into my skin, but I couldn’t get up. My ears were ringing too loudly from the deafening thunder. I scrunched my eyes shut and endured the throbbing, blistering pain.

Once the ringing in my ears died down some, I began to hear other noises. There was no more thunder, but there was a lot of screaming, the rhythm of feet trampling on the ground, and the echo of car alarms whistling in the air. My eardrums were still pulsating and it sounded as though I was hearing everything from underwater.

I slowly opened up my eyes. I was still lying on the ground with my ears covered, seeing the world from a vertical angle. The air was filled with heavy black smoke that stung my eyes and made me cough. It swirled in a thick billow above my head.

I got on my hands and knees and began to crawl to my house on the sizzling sidewalk beneath the smoke, praying that everything was okay. There were other people who are on the ground either frozen in shock, crying out in terror or trying to get away like me. I managed to drag myself back to the house before the thunder started again.

My uncles were in front of the house with my father, who was barefoot. They were yelling at the top of their lungs and trying to gather the children back into the house with my aunts. I didn’t understand what was going on, but they kept repeating a word over and over again that made everything clear.

“Infijar! Infijar!”

Not thunder. Infijar. A bomb.

My stomach lurched into my throat. I turned my gaze to the market across the street my mother had gone to. The black smoke thinned down some, but there was nothing left of the market except rubble and flames. It was completely destroyed.

In that second I was paralyzed. The ground burning into my hands and knees was nothing.

My father finally saw me groveling on the sidewalk. He left my uncles and rushed over to me, cussed and took his shoes off my feet and put them on his own. He picked me up and ran back to the house, set me down on the dry grass. He told me to stay while he went to go see if things were alright. I knew what he really meant – to see if my mother was still alive.

I set my jaw and told him I was coming with him. His dark eyes narrowed and for a second I thought he would slap me across the face.

“MAMMA!”

Suddenly my sister burst out of the house in hysterics. She pumped her legs and ran down the pathway to the street, headed for the demolished market. My father turned around and grabbed her before she could get too far, threw her into my arms. She kicked and screamed and I tightened my arms around her like a straight jacket so that she couldn’t move.

My father screamed at me to stay and protect her and threatened to break both my legs if he saw me anywhere near the market. Then he turned around and sprinted across the road, disappearing into the thick black smoke.

Noora sobbed and tried to wriggle out of my grasp. I held her tightly and dragged her back inside the house. As I crossed the threshold, I heard sirens coming from the distance. The Iraqi police were coming with the American soldiers. But they were too late, I knew. My mother was already dead.

* * *

Please leave your thoughts and comments!

Hi there!

This is my first review on here, so bear with me. I'll try to give you as good of an idea as I can of how this is going.

To business, then.

The town of Al Hilla was bustling today, as usual. Merchants on the street spoke rapidly and persuasively to unwilling customers, taxi drivers honked their horns at children ignorantly running around the roads, and the neighbors were conversing with each other in a way that would have made anyone who didn’t speak Arabic think they were having a fight.

One thing I noticed: you sort of condense sentences by adding adjectives or adverbs. So, instead of telling what's happening and how it happens, show it by adding details--tell us exactly what is happening.

I joined them in their incomplete game of soccer.

Not that it matters (or perhaps it does), but a soccer game isn't really something one completes. Besides, it's already implied that he's joining an already begun game of soccer.

I crossed the length of the sidewalk and turned down the stone alley where my three older cousins, Ali and both Mohammads were playing. I joined them in their incomplete game of soccer. It was a little difficult to play in my father’s big sandals. I kept tripping over the soles every time I tried to kick the ball into the goal, and my cousins took advantage of that. Finally I decided to just take my shoes off, for the ground was cool in this area due to the shade.

Another recurring issue here is the pacing. Notice how in the paragraph above you start off with smaller details, like him (or her?) crossing the sidewalk and turning down the alley. Then you move on to a sort of overview of their soccer game. Try to keep the pace consistent--if you're following his every move, follow his every move. If you're describing the entire game, describe the entire game.

My hands flew up to cover my ears and I tumbled onto the hot, shaking ground.

Just another little thing: hands "flying up" implies an unprecedented movement. He brings his hands up; they don't fly onto his ears.

Once the ringing in my ears died down some, I began to hear other noises.

Arranging your sentences like that sort of slows down the pace, and at this point, I'm sure, the point should be to speed it up. Use shorter, choppier sentences.

There were other people who are on the ground either frozen in shock, crying out in terror or trying to get away like me.

Should be "were".

He told me to stay while he went to go see if things were alright.

All right. Two words.

She kicked and screamed and I tightened my arms around her like a straight jacket so that she couldn’t move.

Straitjacket. Not straight jacket.


...So, in summary:

This is a really good start; I'm assuming you intend add to this later on. You've done a good job of capturing the atmosphere of the setting and things like that. Just try to work a bit on your description.

And also, for a piece in first person point of view, this is sort of impersonal. Add more of his thoughts, make it more personal, otherwise it could just as easily have been written in third person.

And I'm very sorry if I've gotten the gender of your protagonist wrong.

Hope this helps!
-Alex

Heya Worx! I finally managed to get here! Thanks for the PM.

The town of Al Hilla was bustling today, as usual.

I think "as usual" could be its own sentence. To add more effect ^_^

Merchants on the street spoke rapidly and persuasively to unwilling customers, taxi drivers honked their horns at children ignorantly running around the roads, and the neighbors were conversing with each other in a way that would have made anyone who didn’t speak Arabic think they were having a fight.

This sentence is real long. With a bit of rewording, you could easily split this into a few sentences.

I was still lying on the ground with my ears covered, seeing the world from a vertical angle.

Wouldn't it be horizontal if the MC was lying on the ground? But then again, I don't know.

I got on my hands and knees and began to crawl to my house on the sizzling sidewalk beneath the smoke, praying that everything was okay.

The sidewalk is sizzling. Perhaps add how the MC's hands were burning on the hot concrete.

~~~~~

Characters: Not exactly sure what gender your character is or the name. PerI assume the MC is a boy? You could add more of the MC's thoughts like Alex mentioned above.

Description: Excellent job on this! I could see everything: the crowded like street, children running about and the black smoke. Of course, perhaps adding more to how narrow the alleys were, the colours of the taxi's, etc.

Overall: I enjoyed this peice. It's much different then your usual work, like you mentioned. You created an atmosphere of fear and sadness near the end. It is rather sad, though, that the mother died. Sorry for the short and not very helpful review. I just couldn't find anything.

Happy Writing!

Meadow

Hey there! Look at me, being all on time and stuff! XD

Definitely an impressive start here—Your narrator is a really easy character to like and feel for, and I’m already feeling sympathetic for him and all his family. You really made him seem just like any other kid in any other place, which sort of draws a connection between him and the reader right away—the way the narration works, there aren’t any barriers between us, so we can feel how much pain he must be in when tragedy strikes at the end of the chapter.

I especially liked some of your little pieces of description adding to the setting—the too-big sandals and the hot ground, for example. They helped make the image of the setting more solid, and for some reason, all the focus on small details like that gave the moment of the bomb an oddly surreal feeling—the way such an experience would feel to anyone caught up in it. It really helped us go into your narrators perspective.

Since this is the first chapter, there’s not a lot I can say about characterization and plot. Still, I’ll say your excellent narration and beginning have already got me hooked, so by the time I can really get around to that in reviews, I’ll still be around. XD Looking forward to more!

Hey Worx!
Let's start the review, shall we?

The first thing that I do want to point out is the fact that because you end in tragedy you need us to feel the tragedy. If you want us to feel pain, or even shock at the outcome, you need to show us how your character relates to his mother. I am not familiar with Iraqi culture, but perhaps you would show us your mother handing your father's sandals to your MC. Even a brief scene would help us sympathize with your character's feeling of loss. Show us how she lovingly smiles at you. Show us how you are dependent on her.

Also, one advantage of the first person in emotive pieces that should be exploited is the fact that you know your persona's thoughts. In fact, the key to writing in the first person is to accurately convey the thoughts to us as your character would. It's dangerous to show them to us for fear of them being too unreal, but I do believe that a writer of your caliber could do so admirably, and you could make us feel your persona's emotions as if they were our own. I suggest showing us who your character is at every chance you get. I'll take your first paragraph, and try to rewrite it with emphasis on the characterization of your main character.

The ground outside was steaming from the heat of the hanging sun. I dared not step out onto the blazing floor barefoot. I slipped on my father’s sandals - still too big on me - and ran outside to play with my cousins.

Might be written as,

I felt the heat from the hanging sun scorch my skin. Steam rose from the ground. I dared not step forward barefoot. I had wanted shoes of my own for as long as I could remember, but I had never let my hopes soar too high. Father's pair would suffice. {Note the characterization that can be obtained by calling his father by the name he refers to him by.} I slipped my feet inside them, noting that they still were still too large for me, before I stepped into the burning sun to join my cousins' game. {You might also want to give a name of one of your cousins here. At this stage, your main focus is to show us your MC's character.}

The next tip: When writing a scene that involves emotion, you want to build us up to the emotion. Tighten our chests, and make us cringe. If you can successfully convey your characters emotions to us as he witnessed the tragedy, you will have us in the palm of your hand. So, how do you build us up to a climax? First thing that you do is shorten the sentences slowly. When you are about to reveal the turning point, your sentences should be only three or four words. I'll give you an example:

My stomach lurched into my throat. I turned my gaze to the market across the street my mother had gone to.

If you were to take this short piece, and rewrite it as follows, your piece would hold far more suspense,

I looked across the street. The market had been reduced to rubble. My stomach lurched. Had Mother been there when the bomb went off? My heart pounded almost painfully.

You want to do the same with all of your action pieces. Also, at times like these, description is usually a hindrance, and describing anything aside from your feelings is almost always disturbing, as we wouldn't expect your character to notice descriptions when he is this tense. He should almost get tunnel-vision, and see only what's obvious. His own feelings, however are vital as he would certainly notice these.

Final major point: When writing, one of the most important things to do is to be specific. You want to paint an extremely vivid picture of everything you describe to us. You can afford to “slip-up” once or twice if the lack of direction is going to consolidated at a later stage. Or if it is essential to creating the tone of your story.
A couple of points which aren't as important as they are usually absorbed by the rest of the piece:

The town of Al Hilla was bustling today, as usual.

When reporting time, it's pretty difficult to smoothly convey it. For example, the use of “today” in the above sentence is a little out of place. In your position, I would merely drop the “today” as we will assume you were talking about “today”.

Merchants on the street spoke rapidly and persuasively to unwilling customers, taxi drivers honked their horns at children ignorantly running around the roads, and the neighbors were conversing with each other in a way that would have made anyone who didn’t speak Arabic think they were having a fight.

I think someone pointed this out in a review before me, but this is a pretty long sentence. I would break it up before the “and”. While I'm here, I also wanted to say that I really loved the description here. It's great.

In Summary:
Description: You do have some very nice descriptions here, but you want to tailor them a little more to the tone of the piece you are writing. Remember, the faster the pace, the less time there is for description.

Characters: You have done a pretty good job with your MC's character given that you've just introduced him to us. You should, however, while setting the scene, implicitly tell us as much about your character as possible. What he loves, what he prejudices, and anything else about his character.
Action: Remember, you want to make us feel the action. Use the above pointers to do so.

Point of View: You're writing this from the first person perspective. Remember to exploit this fact.

Overall: You have a great story here, and it's pretty well written. Here are some pointers that might help it though.

Have a great one!

Thanks for the reviews, guys. I really appreciate it, and I'll try to return the favor soon.

Alex: For your first review, that was a very good one. Thank you for all of your suggestions and comments. I'll make the changes as soon as possible.

Meadow & Zan: Thanks for reading this. I hope you and Zan weren't too freaked out by the subject. Lol. I just had a good idea for a story I could seriously publish, and I just had to write it. Again, thank you.

Clever-boy: You're absolutely right about the lack of emotion. I knew this wouldn't be as good as it could have been because I couldn't feel the tragedy as I was writing it. So if I couldn't feel the tragedy, how could the readers? I'm going to re-write the whole thing. Thanks for setting it straight.