Young Writers Society


Seven Souls (Temp. Title)

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I walked through the crammed hallway to find the only bathroom in the house, only to find I was too late and there was already a line. Damn, I should have come earlier, I thought. I forget about the bathroom and went straight to the counselor’s office. I walk into the offset office and scrunch my face at the smell. It smelled of lemons and Pine Sol, mixed together. A woman in her late forties with straight auburn hair that reached her mid-back looked back at me with a fake smile plastered on her face, and with that I slip out of the chair and walk into the office. The couches that are in this office and more high end and I sit on the one further away from her and sigh with the comfort. Each and every one of us has a reason, a cause, to why we’re stranded here together; mine is simple and harsh. And today, I’m the lucky one who gets to tell it all first… or not.

“Good morning, Rae.” If you can call it a good morning, I thought to myself. I’m finding that I’m starting to do that more often.

“Yeah,” I mumble, this is something I do not want to do. I don’t need a shrink; I never had or never will. It’s all bottled inside me, never moving, always bugging me.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Does it look like I want to talk? I think to myself.

“No.” I receded into the couch pulling my knees close to my chest and closed my eyes.

“We have all day,” She continued to pry; I still sat there with my knees pulled to my chest wishing she’d stop talking to me. “Okay, would you like something to drink? A snack?”

Instead of a reply, I shake my head slowly back and forth. It’s not that I have a problem with talking, but there are some things you just don’t want to talk about.

“Can I just leave?” I suggest.

“Yes if you want, it still may be a little too early for you to talk about these incidents.” I send a silent prayer thanking God for letting me leave this woman and her prying.

“Thanks.” I mumble getting up from the chair and follow out into the offset office. I walk back through those now familiar hallways and stop at the bathroom relieved there were no lines. I walk in and close the door behind me, inside I find the sink. I let the water run for a few seconds and splash my face with water shivering from the coldness. I find the towel and dry my face, I look up at the mirror; I find the familiar freckles that sprinkled under my eyes and over my nose and the mocha colored hair that curled into ringlets that reached my lower back. As I turn my head I see the not so familiar bruises where fingers can be manageably seen, the memoires rush in, I shake the feeling and unlock the door.

I walked five doors down to reach the door that’s covered in pictures and drawings; I open it up to find my roommate, Maxine, is sleeping. I quietly reached my bed and pulled out the familiar iPod and let the soothing sounds of Celtic harmonies swirl throughout my head and two minutes later I’m sleeping peacefully.

**

“Rae,” someone shook me gently, and I thought it was my mom, but I open my eyes to see it’s only Maxine.

“What’s up?” I manage sleepily.

“You want dinner or not?”

“Oh, right. Let’s go.” I jump out of the bed and grab the familiar Abercrombie hoodie, I was suddenly cold.

“Fell asleep, huh? Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“I never do,” I say.

“Well, that sucks.”

“Doesn’t it?”

I nod. We walk down that hallway and turned to the café. The simple way to say cafeteria, but café sounded more like the kind of café’s that are plastered throughout a mall or strip mall. The interior of the café was painted light beige with accents that you’d find in an antique store with a few booths around the edges and some tables spread out in the middle with a salad bar to the front. The food in this place will make your mouth water. It was pre-processed crap they sell in school, it was real food. The staff puts in part of their money so we have good premium food and not the phony stuff because there are only eight kids here, plus whatever staff is working.

Maxine and I go over to the booth we always sit in, which happened to be the one booth that overlooks the mountainside of this house. It’s in the country fields of South Dakota; therefore we can see the mountains perfectly. The sun was setting over the horizon, making the sky turn a pink orange, a smile spread over my face as a sat in the corner and pulled my feet up to my chest. Maxine sits across from me, taking a peak at what I was smiling at and turned back to face me.

“You know, I never thought I’d be here.”

“Ditto.”

A guy, around my age with shaggy straight hair, walks in with an alternative rock tee-shirt that hugged his abs, yes abs, and dark washed jeans. I’ve never seen him before; even in the few months I’ve been here.

“Hey. Do you know him?” I slowly pull my attention back to Maxine, waiting for a reply.

“Oh, that’s Adam.” She says matter-of-factly. Am I the only one not getting news around here? I thought. Which was true, how did she know his name and I’ve never seen him in my entire stay? Sure I’ve heard of him before, but never have I actually seen him.

“Adam, who?”

“Weston” Adam Weston? Who is this guy? I thought to myself, there were eight of us including me. Or that’s at least who I counted during group therapy.

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“Oh he’s been here.”

“Then why wasn’t he in group therapy last week? And what clique is he?”

Her grin frails, “He’s with the ditched.” My own smile diminishes once I hear about the ditched part, “And visitation was the reason you haven’t seen him, he had some friends come over. Then he’s usually stuck in his room. We barely see him at all.” So there was my answer, even more than I intended to uncover.

I watch as Adam walks to the hot food line and grabs a hamburger and fries and then goes to sit at the a table and chair. He finds me staring and he smiles then turns his attention to his food again. I blush and look down, Maxine laughs.

“Mhm, are you interested in Adam boy?” My blush deepens as she asks this, and I’m going to lie to hide the fact I am interested in him.

“No!”

“Yeah right, honey.”

“Oh hush,” I say with a smile. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Oh, right.”

We both get out of the booth together and Maxine walks to the hot food line and I walk to the salad bar. There’s an array of greens with vegetables of every kind, not to mention five different kinds of dressing. I pick up a bright green bowl and place some Iceberg lettuce and then pile on shredded cheese and ranch dressing. I walk back over to the booth and sit down waiting for Maxine, and I sneak another look at Adam. Making sure he doesn’t see me, and he doesn’t. Thank God.

Maxine flops down on the bench, and I stare wide-eyed at her tray. “Hungry?”

“Duh.” That girl can eat. Her tray is filled with a hamburger, fries, salad, a brownie, and chips. She picks up a fry and nibbles on it, looking down at my salad.

“What? I’m not hungry is all,” Which was true, ever since I came here my appetite hasn’t been what it used to be. I’m barely hungry, but I have to eat or my weight will drop. And we don’t need to add another case to my therapy sessions.

“Right,” she grabs another fry and stuffs it in her mouth, not even nibbling. She’s finished eating entirely within ten minutes and my salad has been finished in five minutes.

I look around the café now to find Adam listening to his iPod, and I wonder what could possibly be on it. I shouldn’t be thinking of these things, but a girl can’t help herself. My eyes move to the other tables to find the other six kids eating in their own little groups. I fall into a gaze at the window, looking at the sun setting. This is like high school cliques without the harsh out comes, I thought. Which was true on any level because there were cliques in the house, there were the abused, the runaways, the forgotten, and the ditched; two in each.

Ryan and Daniel were the runaways. They ran away the foster homes they didn’t like, and ended up here. Like the rest of us. Jocelyn and Nicole were the ones whose families got tired of them for any sort of reason and were never heard from again, they were the forgotten.

Adam and Danielle are the ditched. The house barely gets any kids that have been ditched. That’s where the parents have the kid, but they don’t want them anymore; so they ditch them anywhere. And the house finds them. I always feel sorry for them the most. Lastly, Maxine and I are the abused. Where parents think it’s okay to hurt your children, we both have in-depth stories, but we are not quite ready to spill.

“Hey, hello?” Maxine snaps her fingers close to my face. I snap out of my gaze and look back at her.

“What?”

“You were like staring, at nothing.”

“Um yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s alright; can we get out of here though?” I look around, and everyone’s gone.
“What the?”

“Yeah, they all left about ten minutes ago.”

“Please, let’s get out of here.” I get out of the booth and bring my hands over my head and stretch, Maxine does the same thing, we laugh and I loop my arm around hers and we skip out of the café.
Last edited by KayKel16 on Mon Aug 24, 2009 3:05 am, edited 4 times in total.
"Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today."
-James Dean




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I think there should be some guy in the foster home thing bigig. And they like fight but finally when her father gets out of jail and she goes to see him. and a guy*What ever you names him* follows her. And she notices him. But thats just a choice.. Hah. hope I was helpful and i like this story so far=]. can't wait to read more!!


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Hey there!
I am Incognito and I am going to review your work today.
Because your piece is so small, I won't actually review it in parts like I usually do, but just state the pieces of information and corrections as I find them.

First things first that I noticed when I read your piece was that it was one large info dump. The info dump wasn't written badly at all, but it is an info dump which, if used to much, will be quite frankly frowned down upon in writing. You have to make sure to show and not tell. I bet you have heard that before but not sure how quite exactly to do it, or what it is. When you tell, it is just blandly stating the facts, and when it is showing, you are describing the scene and the actions while adding bits and pieces of information here and there.

For example, instead of plainly telling that the house wasn't big enough for the eight of them, but describe the main character walking through the cramped hallways, waiting for the only bathroom which is taken up by one of the other people, maybe the main character has to share a room with another person because there is not enough space. Make it become apparent in your writing. Another thing is instead of just randomly telling the story right then and there, make the main character talk to someone else explaining his/her story. You have to cut out unnecessary information, but at the same time, for the information which is needed to progress the story you need to blend in with the rest of the story. Give it dimension and don't overboard the reader with uninteresting information. Give them the action.

Next thing I want to make a point in explaining is not knowing what the gender of the main character actually is. I know this is a short piece, and you don't need to have that information, but make sure the reader can identify the gender in someway or another. A good way with doing that is add thoughts, give a flare to the writing. Give it the sarcasm and melodramatics of a women if it is a women, or the blunt character of a male. It will also give the story something interesting and connective to the reader. They will understand it better and will want to read more of it.

Here is the next item:
I was one of the eight adolescent teenagers living in the house. It wasn't big enough to hold all of us, bit no one said said anything about it, [color-blue]we never do[/color]. We live in a foster home, ten minutes way from the middle of town.

Now you will have probably notice that I highlighted different words in different colors. And that is what you were changing tenses in your writing when it wasn't supposed to and the change didn't make much sense. It was a change, make that a very subtle change, but it was still a change. The words in red dominate the beginning, and that is because those are the words depicting the past tense. The past tense is describing something as it had happened, it is dwelling in the past. Words like 'was' 'did' 'said' and 'wasn't' are words commonly used in the past tense. It was all fine and dandy until you used the 'we never do'. That simply is because that phrase is explaining that they don't complain about it currently, that they live in the house currently, while the rest giving the impression of past tense, people wouldn't have thought them to be live in the house. Present tense is explaining things as how they are happening now..

In writing, you seldom use different tenses unless it is in dialogue or letters of some sort, or maybe something being explained. You have to choose one way or another, simply put. Are you going to describe it in the present, everything is happening is current, or in the past, when everything happened and it is like someone reminiscing on the memory.

Each and everyone of us has a reason, a cause, to why we're stranded together. Mine was simple and harsh, just like that.

There is nothing in particular wrong with this part per-say, but there is a personal preference I want to make known. Using the commas to add add-on works well to add drama. You did it twice in such sort proximity that the drama adding seems over done. I would simply take out 'a cause' or 'just like that'. It makes the reader like the main character more, rather than annoyed at the melodrama of it.

Another comment:
My father was a great father, and he raised me well. Until one day, he had a hard day at work and drank away everything is a few short hours. I told him to stop, that he was scaring me; I got slapped instead of a slurred I'll be alright. It didn't stop after that, it didn't get better, it got worse

This seems unrealistic to me. Her father wouldn't get drunk because of just one stinking bad day at work. Maybe he was having problems previously with drinking and this was just one particular happening that he went over the edge. Maybe he got fired from his job driving him deeper into the alcohol because that was the only thing that could dull the sharp harshness of the real world.

This brings me to another comment. How did people find out about her abuse? Was it because of her bruises, a teacher noticed of some sort? Or maybe she got fed up with it and went to the cops herself. I personally would never do that because I would still love my father if he beat me, but it is all up to you. Give more detail to the story. Give her thoughts on the matter, maybe explain more reasons why he just randomly hit her. Maybe describe her horror t seeing her father intoxicated, in his slurred, wide-eyed anger. This would be awesome if you played with the idea of her explaining it to someone. That way you give mention of the frailty of her voice as she said finally that he father hit her.

I told him to stop, that he was scaring me;I got slapped instead of a slurred I'll be alright.

This is just a tip, bit to make it even more clear to the reader, put the 'I'll be alright' in quotations like I just did. xD

Next up I am just going to blandly tell you that this actually wouldn't have worked out. The main character wouldn't have actually been in a foster home unless her father lost custody over her in court because of these happenings. She would have been with another relative, or her god parents, or her legal guardian. Was there no way out of it? Was she never supposed to see her father again? Were all her living relatives dead? It just seems something is off for me, something seems that it just doesn't fit right. Make sure you plan things out well.

I also think that he opinion of her father is just a little harsh. She would still love him despite it all. She wouldn't want to through her father away, her living blood. Also, I want to know, how old was she when she was being beaten? How old is she now? If she is young, she would fully deny all charges put down onto her father because children have a certain devotion to the parents/parent.

I do have an idea that would be pretty cool to read. I think you rewrite this part in the beginning so it is her talking to a counselor about her troubled life because almost certainly a child like that would grow up with some problem. You could add a whole bunch of different personalty traits to her also because of the right away intimacy. She could be explaining about the new foster home, the small cramped hallways, she could then traverse to painful memories, stating them to the counselor with reluctance, maybe giving the evidence of the secret fear of her father. Have fun with it. After all, this is your story.

To end this up, I would love to tell you that you have excellent grammar and punctuation. I was blatantly surprised and I like the emotion you seem to have introduced to the beginning of this piece. It is very effective, but I think it could be even more effective. And sorry if you main character is actually a guy, but for some odd reason as I read it, I pictured it a girl all the way through. I believe you have excellent potential and I would love to see more of your work.

Good job and if you have any questions, feel free to PM me.
~Incognito Temptation
'Everyone is entitled to be stupid, some just abuse the priviledge.'



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