Young Writers Society

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

Hi! I'm Knight Hardy here on a mission to ensure that all works on YWS has at least two reviews. You will probably never see this but....Imma do this anyway.

First Impression: This is both sad and also annoying at the same time. On one hand there are really touching parts but then our protagonist comes off as extremely unlikable and just a completely horrible person in general and that makes us not enjoy this story quite as much as we could have.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Darrell felt completely lost in the funeral procession. His mind kept snapping at him, yelling at him, for getting himself mixed up in this. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He didn’t even know the little boy who died. He was seated in the chapel, his hands in his pockets and his eyes staring at the coffin. Darrell was completely oblivious to the mourners around him, and the priest who stood at the pulpit.

Had it just been a few days ago when the news had been told around the school? The midget seventh grader – Brian Hansen – had passed away. Darrell couldn’t even remember the reason why.

And yet he was at the midget's funeral. “Why?” he asked himself quietly. “Why am I here?”

There was a knot in the pit of his stomach. Every time he had asked that gut-wrenching question, the knot drew tighter. Was Darrell here because he felt sorry for the midget? Had it been, not even a week ago, that Darrell had seen Brian get smashed into a locker? Those stupid ninth graders thought that they ruled the school.

That couldn’t be it; Darrell didn’t even help Brain pick himself up. The midget was probably diseased or something. That’s why he was so small. Yeah. He probably had cancer or a sickness. And if Darrell touched him, he would become infected.

The priest raised his voice, “Sister Susanna Hansen, I turn the time over to you.” Darrell’s eyes lazily followed a heavier woman up to the pulpit. She was carrying a tissue in one hand, and a Holy Bible in the other hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the priest. He smiled and nodded, patting her on the back.

“Brian was most fondly remembered as the boy that could do anything. Once he set his mind to it, he could accomplish anything. Even through all of the trails that he faced – being mocked at school, his height – nothing put him down. He had the courage to face every problem. Nothing stood in his way.”

The heavyset woman was Brian’s mother, Darrell supposed. He wondered why she wasn’t as short as he had been.

Had been. It was then that Darrell realized why he had come to the funeral in the first place.

Brian had been. He wasn’t anymore. Darrell squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. He could faintly hear the midget’s mother sobbing in the background.

“Brian Hansen’s parents wanted to share with you the news of the operation. He passed away Saturday, April 7, 2008 at about three in the morning. You were told last Friday that Brian had had an operation on his liver. The surgery was a failure, and he was given twelve hours to live.

“The surgery was supposed to have only have lasted four hours. It ended up being fourteen, after they had discovered a blood clot in his arteries. In order to work on his liver, they had to get around the clot, but they couldn’t.”

“Brian Hansen wanted to tell everyone at school good-bye. He said that he would miss all of you and wished he could see you once more. The principal went to the hospital to see her, and he sat up in the hospital bed and said, ‘I’m ready to go to school.’”

“Brain Hansen had been known as the dwarf of the school. He proudly held the name of ‘Midge.’ He was not offended by any cruel jokes or side comments. He was always optimistic about everything. After the surgery, the doctors and his parents entered his room and told him that he had twelve hours to live. Midge said that that was fine with him. He just wanted to say good-bye.”

Darrell had not made a card. He didn’t know why he didn’t. He supposed that it was because he hadn’t known Midge. Why should he make a card for a diseased midget?

At the funeral, four days later, Darrell’s knot was tense. He instantly regretted not making a card for this poor boy. Pinching himself, he whispered to himself, “You’re a selfish jerk. Always thinking of yourself. You’re a selfish jerk.”

More speakers spoke their talks, more mourners cried. Darrell didn’t. He couldn’t.

He hadn’t been able to cry his whole life.

Not to sound harsh, but I REALLY don't think this is a good idea for her parents to read. It may sound like a nice thing to do, but I am not entirely sure I'd be accepting to this. It hits too close and while good intentioned, it is something that either is 'sweet' or highly offensive with most people.

As for reasons why:

Death.
Midget
Funeral
Questionable characters...emotions...

Lines like this: "Why should he make a card for a diseased midget?"

"The midget was probably diseased or something. That’s why he was so small. Yeah. He probably had cancer or a sickness."

" The heavyset woman was Brian’s mother, Darrell supposed. He wondered why she wasn’t as short as he had been."

Now...from what I know so far...this is really pretty much a no-no in my book. Too close, too much, too harsh. A story like this probably one of the last things I want to start reading when I am grieving or even afterwards.

And oh.... this especially crosses the line for me. Its like reliving it all over again:

“Brian Hansen’s parents wanted to share with you the news of the operation. He passed away Saturday, April 7, 2008 at about three in the morning. You were told last Friday that Brian had had an operation on his liver. The surgery was a failure, and he was given twelve hours to live.

“The surgery was supposed to have only have lasted four hours. It ended up being fourteen, after they had discovered a blood clot in his arteries. In order to work on his liver, they had to get around the clot, but they couldn’t.”