Young Writers Society

Something to get me writing ...

1810

Thousands of people clustered together. Market stalls, frenzied shouts, exchanges of money from one hand to another. The stimulating yet invasive smell of the sea air. Shoves and bruises in the crush of the crowd. Moving past the sailors and the aristocrats, the recruitment sergeants and the preachers, the peasants and the merchants. Gazing wide-eyed at the tall masts of the warships floating in the docks. Watching the sails unfurl, listening to an an officer with his epaulettes and bicorne barking orders in the light morning breeze, dreaming of escaping out into the great ocean beyond.

Portsmouth: the jewel of the south coast. The base from where the Royal Navy has conducted its nautical trade for the best part of the last three hundred years, and ruled the seas for the last one hundred and twenty; the city skyline dominated by the stalwart masts
emerging from the wooden decks of countless ships. The size of the city is too bewildering to fathom for a twelve-year-old-boy.

Samuel Isaac Gordon chased after his father, who was several yards ahead of him. He didn't want to lose sight of his father for fear of becoming seperated and lost in the big city. They had visited before but previously had come in by way of horse and coach. Their two beasts had died of disease last summer; they had been forced to trek the whole twenty-mile journey to Portsmouth from their small farm on the edge of Hartsmouth, a hamlet that would be dwarfed next to Portsmouth.

Samuel squeezed past the many people beside him and attempted to race forwards. He could see the bald patch on the top of his father's head just ahead, but the crowds were dense with dangling arms and moving legs that impeded his progress. Everyone just appeared incredibly taller and larger and it seemed an impossible task to carve a route through. But Samuel tried. He was a skinny boy, not much in way of strength or bulk, which further reduced the odds of him catching up.

"Father!" he shouted, but it was in vain, because his voice was lost in the hustle and bustle of the other people. It was not loud, but just enough to prevent his father from distinguishing between his shout and the many other calls and orders being bellowed from every street corner and every stall on that busy Saturday morning.

"Father!" he tried again. The bald patch was getting further and further away, blending with the many other heads in the crowd, and his eyes began to blur as he looked, jumping frantically about for one glimpse ... but there was nothing. It was gone. Whatever brief view he had of his father had been sucked up in the movement of the crowd. Suddenly Samuel flet cold, despite the sun up in the sky. Why had his father not noticed his absence? Samuel bitterly thought it was probably because of Jacob, Father's favourite. His perfect older brother. The one who had ...

A sudden hand on his shoulder. "Sammy, where in God's name did you go? One second ye was right behind me, the other I had no idea where you went!" It was his Father, looking ruffled but with a big grin on his face.

Sammy doesn't seem like it belongs in 1810 Portsmouth.

Also, the ing-verbs that start the sentences in the first paragraph should be used sparingly, after a while it gets annoying.

Yeh I should remove the Sammy part, hah.

I'm undecided on whether to kill that first paragraph completely, or edit it. It was an experiment that didn't go too well.

Especially if it's an (older) guy...then that would be creepy.

Shoves and bruises in the crush of the crowd. Moving past the sailors and the aristocrats, the recruitment sergeants and the preachers, the peasants and the merchants. Gazing wide-eyed at the tall masts of the warships floating in the docks. Watching the sails unfurl, listening to an an officer with his epaulettes and bicorne barking orders in the light morning breeze, dreaming of escaping out into the great ocean beyond.

That was a rather awkward section. I'd just smoosh it all into one sentence- I think it would sound pretty good.

Ooh, nice idea Sammy

Knew you'd be looking at this some time ...

I liked it a lot, until: "One second ye was right behind me, the other I had no idea where you went." It wasn't the awkwardness or anything, but that 'ye.' It's a very abrupt change.

'Samuel Isaac Gordon'
Unless you're writing a novel, it's best just to go by first names in a short story.

But I liked this. Reminded me of when I was two and I got seperated from my parents on the beach. Found them though.

First of all, I can definitely tell that you have talent with writing. You have this way of putting sentences together that makes the reader just have to read on. But here is my two cents on the story:

Thousands of people clustered together. Market stalls, frenzied shouts, exchanges of money from one hand to another. The stimulating yet invasive smell of the sea air. Shoves and bruises in the crush of the crowd. Moving past the sailors and the aristocrats, the recruitment sergeants and the preachers, the peasants and the merchants. Gazing wide-eyed at the tall masts of the warships floating in the docks. Watching the sails unfurl, listening to an an officer with his epaulettes and bicorne barking orders in the light morning breeze, dreaming of escaping out into the great ocean beyond.

This passage has great descriptions, but unfortunately doesn't make much sense to me, at least the way you start sentences. The "ings" as someone else pointed out before, do clutter up the paragraph. Maybe vary those a little bit.

Is this a novel or short story? What is the story about? Well, good luck with it. I know I'm not much of a great advice giver, but hope I helped!

Oh, one more thing. In one of the paragraphs you said "seperately." I believe the correct spelling is "separately."

Good luck!

Mary
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I would say if you're going to have dialect you should incorporate it from the beginning.

I agree with all of the above with the "ing" thing and some parts in general. Some of it seems awkward but I think this could work so far with the plot idea and everything. It sounds adventuresome.

I don't really need to repeat anything that's already been said.

I think the start would be a little better if some of the sentences are merged together.

For such a short piece I like the fact that you've managed to give Samuel character, his bitterness of not being his father's favourite and not being notice by his father.