Young Writers Society

Hello, my fellow writing friend!

This is a thrilling work! Let's dive right in...



A Little Skimming - First Impressions
OH GOSH THIS IS AMAZING. At first the story kicks off with a very hooking line (I'll get into that later) and then a rather neutral start, with bits of humorous remarks. Then, BOOM! The story takes a turn. The main character sees herself on the floor... possibly dead. Oh, how my heart jumped at that part. Loved the plot.



Love it! - Parts That I Like
So. My favorite part of a review. I already stated some things I enjoyed, but oh, there are so much more.
First, the hooker.

On Tuesday the thirteenth of October, I definitely had no plans to change my life. Nor to plunge into a crazy adventure where it was not at all certain how it would end. And I had no plans to end up as the main guest at a funeral.

She obviously decided to prove it to us today...

She's just... ancient. Maybe she was still building the pyramids: it would be possible.

Then I realize why everyone is looking so horrified.

There is a body lying on the chair I just got up from.

My body.

Could it be that I'm... a ghost?

On Tuesday the thirteenth of October, I definitely had no plans to change my life. Nor to plunge into a crazy adventure where it was not at all certain how it would end. And I had no plans to end up as the main guest at a funeral.

The speed with which Mrs. Andersen writes.

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Well this was quite the moment here. I'm loving the vibes of it here. I think it makes for a wonderful thing to have in a prologue, just setting it all up but keeping it mysterious to have us questioning. Very nicely done there.

Anyway let's get right to it,

On Tuesday the thirteenth of October, I definitely had no plans to change my life. Nor to plunge into a crazy adventure where it was not at all certain how it would end. And I had no plans to end up as the main guest at a funeral.

Instead, my only concern was why the board in front of me was filling up so quickly.

Teacher Andersen is known for the fact that she can write an entire piece of chalk in one lesson. She obviously decided to prove it to us today, which is why I've been covering my ears for over half an hour. It doesn't even stop the squeaky chalk sound from getting into my ears.

The speed with which Mrs. Andersen writes. I have to read slowly - this is the life of a dyslexic whose teacher always forgets to print out his notes. I'm almost always late with class notes afterwards, and old Mrs. Andersen is not worth guessing. She's just... ancient. Maybe she was still building the pyramids: it would be possible.

"I guess that old lady is going to retire," Sofia grunts next to me, and I grin. Everyone knows that Mrs. Andersen should have retired a long time ago. But historically, there are not enough teachers at the school, and she voluntarily decided to continue in teaching.

The director was said to be enthusiastic. We students did not share it with her.

Of course, everyone knows about it - except Sofia West, because she's... weird. She doesn't talk to anyone, but looks down on everyone, as if we are too unimportant to her. She kept looking off into the distance... and apparently she liked sitting next to me in physics.

The bell for the end of class suddenly rings through the class, and I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, physics is the last class of the day. My letter-shuffling brain couldn't handle any more formulas. I stretch out my clenched hands and stand up. I really feel somewhat relieved - the stress remains here today, in the classroom after the last lesson.

Someone suddenly screams, and I turn to see who. The teacher runs in my direction, and chaos breaks out everywhere. Confused, I take a few steps back, almost bumping into the bookshelf behind me.

Then I realize why everyone is looking so horrified.

There is a body lying on the chair I just got up from.

My body.

The world around me slows down strangely, and I feel like my brain is full of cotton wool. No, it can't be my body, because I'm standing here...

I open my mouth to say something, but the bubble of peace around me bursts. Everything happens so... fast. A teacher calling a colleague to take my classmates to the cafeteria. Why can't I move? Why am I standing here like a rock, unable to get my brain out of the chaotic swirl of colors and voices that are all around me? Why don't I stop the paramedics who ran into the room, taking my pulse and trying to revive me?

Why are they doing this when I'm standing right behind them? I reach out to tap the nearest doctor on the shoulder, but I freeze. My hand - the hand that is normally completely normal and I never paid too much attention to it - is translucent. Not translucent like glass, but definitely faded. A bit like when someone leaves an old photo in the sun and it loses all color because of it. It's bizarre. Well, not as bizarre as my body lying a few meters away from me, while I study my palm with my gaze.

I blink sharply and look at the rescuers again. They don't see me. They see only the motionless body of a thirteen-year-old girl in a school uniform. I don't even realize what I'm doing until I run to him.

It's definitely me. It's uncomfortable to look at myself from a bird's eye view, and I never thought I could do it. But the fact remains that I am looking at a familiar face following me in the mirrors. Short, messy brown hair, pointed nose, scary half-open empty brown eyes... My stomach suddenly rises and I start to fall backwards. The idea that I should endure a little more time with my body in the same room seems disgusting to me.

The feeling that I am separating from the surrounding world is coming back again. I'm going to force it down this time. So fine - it's probably time to start thinking about what's actually going on here.

I'm no professional, but it looks like I'm obviously dead. I don't know why I don't panic. I should definitely be at least a little hysterical right now.

I look down once more at my faded hands and feet.

Could it be that I'm... a ghost?

AnotherCrowInRow~
I really like the imagery in your story. The chalk on the board, describing Sophia West, the "letter shuffling brain"...all great uses of imagery! My brain being "full of cotton wool" when the MC sees their own body being left behind. And the description of the girl, the short brown hair and pointed nose, half open empty brown eyes. I can see it all really well. I can feel her stomach rising and starting to fall backward. And the faded hands and feet and the end!
This story is also really creative. At the end I have so many questions, but I think the mysterious nature of the story makes up for them. great work!
AmberMelanie