Young Writers Society

Thank you all for your comments, I really do find any and all advice worthy.

The story is all one paragraph becase I copy and pasted.... I guess I should probably check it next time XD

Well, I must admit I loved the story! It was impressive and it was gruesome but I also have a few critiques that I hope are not to harsh.

I see little to no spelling mistakes, but then again I really suck at spotting those. the sentences make sense to me easily and I think the way you word things could improve. the way they are worded now is just fine, but I also think you could widen your vocabulary and make better sentences. It is an example such as 'Nothing really smelled yet, but the steam that rolled out of his neck was kind of strange; you could improve that with...'There was no stench wafting the air this very moment and still with the steam rising from his throat, white and coiling like a viper, was increasingly strange but far from disturbing.' See? Vocabulary can be very important make the story more interesting in the way you word things.

Well, I love the story but I feel as if there could be more details. There was a sentence with the detail 'wallow in his own blood' that made me shiver. I mean, that right there is an impressive sentence and I would love to see more of that in the story! Describe the mothers death, the memory and the wound still festering at the pain of watching his mother die. Express the agony his father caused, the sorrow he let loose and then the overcoming rage and thirst for revenge. Describe the feel of the knife across his fathers throat, of feeling the blood spray the walls and drench the carpet before watching it dry. Make him see the blood spatter on his cheek and the very details of the deaths. His mothers blood mixing with his fathers and then finally her being able to rest when he closed her eyes. Give it detail!!

However, other then that the story is incredible. The sentences seem a little choppy, staring off on 'And' or 'But' or some other word that just doesn't work. Otherwise, I do enjoy the story and do not hesitate to PM if there is more!! I'd love to read it!!

Hello!! Here's the review:

I liked the story. I feel very sorry for Vincent. He's been through a lot and you've portrayed his feelings very well
Congratulations on that.

It was a bit gory, I must admit. The amount of detail in the description of the kill is a bit disturbing. Good! It means you've been able to convince the readers!

The only problem was that it wasnt structured properly. The whole story looks like one big paragraph. You should consider breaking down the story into small paragraphs. Otherwise, it just confuses the readers. For a minute there in the last few lines, I had no idea who was speaking what. We wouldnt want that.

Coming to Jack. Was he a counselor or consoler? You might want to check that.
I think it also needed more description of the characters also,

But other than that, I loved the idea! Especially the twist at the end!!

Good work.

Keep it up!!
-Divz

Hey MissAva!

I'm going to copy all of your text into my review and make changes there, but I'll do it line by line. Please don't be disheartened though! This is a great piece of writing, I just think you need to structure it a little better. I'll put brackets around my changes so that you can clearly see them There won't be many, just me being nit-picky

Vince n’ Slicer
By: Rachal Taylor

"When did your dad start abusing your mother?" The office was dull. Nothing really special about it;

(added a semi-colon here to link the sentences better)

cheap tan paint was slathered on the wall and white curtains covered the two

(I have changed your '2' to 'two' as I feel it reads better)

barred windows. I was in a juvenile school for the misunderstood. It was like a form of hell.

(I changed your comma for a full stop as I feel the two sentences are very conclusive and build a tense anger for the character.)

I had a few versions of hell. One was my dad. The consoler

(Do you mean consoler or councillor? I think councillor sounds better, but that's my opinion, so I'm not changing this as it's down to personal preference.)

looked at my sideways turned face;

(This little bit doesn't quite make sense to me. Do you mean "The consoler looked at me sideways, and turned to face forward" or something of the sort?)

staring out the window at the rain pouring onto the downtown buildings of Fort Worthless, Indiana. "Vincent are you listening? You need to tell us what’s going on so we can help you." Jack my newly appointed consoler insulted me with my full name! I was known as Vince'n slicer around the school. For reasons untold to the public.

(I'd start the next paragraph here, just to give your work some spacing.)

"Last year around my birthday," I snapped, "he slapped my mom for buying me an IPod touch.” My mothers’ tired hands were sore with blisters from both her minimum wage jobs, “the iPod was an early gift and she worked very hard to buy me nice things." my eyes began to water as I remembered her death clearly in my mind. How HE killed her, my said “father”. "Ok Vincent did it all go downhill from there?" Jack knows exactly what went downhill! I know he does, he's seen my files! "Yes he began to drink a lot more, and got fired from his job. He wouldn't acknowledge my existence either. Sometimes I believe he wasn’t even my father." Jack’s fingers scribbled down some notes on his pointless clipboard, "When did you and your mom leave?" My dad was a straight up satyr

(Do you mean Satyr? As in Pan/ Greek mythology? If you do it needs a capital 'S' )

from hell; he yelled at my mother who worked her own ass every day at two

(I've replaced the number '2' for the work 'two' here also)

minimum wage jobs, yet she always found time to be with me. He was always a drinker and he never acted as if I was his own. Her death killed me inside, my existence was just… nothingness. I lived to make her happy, to try and help in some way. One

(I have also changed the '1' to 'one')

week before my 18th birthday, one more week and we would have left my dad...One more week. "WE NEVER DID!!! THAT BASTARD KILLED HER ONE WEEK BEFORE MY 18th BIRTHDAY!!!!"

(I'd start a new paragraph here too)

I'd

(I have changed your 'I' to 'I'd' as I felt it read better)

had enough of this hellhole; I was ready to be gone to see my mom and hope never to see my dad. I jumped at Jack, his clipboard bumping his chin, “we were going to leave Jack.” June 14th, 2010 I killed my father, and I feel no guilt, just the emptiness in my own heart from the father I never had and the mother I’ll never see again. He shot my mom right in the chest; my eyes will never bear witness to anything more terrifying. He said to me that night, “she committed suicide if anyone finds out the truth; you won’t be hard to take care of either.” That’s when I decided. He wasn’t worth more than a piece of shit molded

('molded' do you mean mould as in the stuff you get on cheese? If so I would changed this to rotting.)

in the sewer. I know what I got from his side of the gene pool, and it wasn’t being a drunk.

(New paragraph here - slight change in subject)

"Calm down Vince." Jack wasn’t scrawny but he wouldn’t stand a chance against me. Thoughts began to run around in my head, imaginary files in my brain burst into flames as the adrenaline was sent like gasoline on fire. Thoughts of that night acted as the files and my father was the fuel, I started pacing, "I hated him so much Jack, no one understands exactly what I’ve been through!” Adrenaline surged through my veins with every heartbeat; images began to remind me of that night, that scene of my parent’s death. I grabbed a crisp kitchen knife, slick, silvery and cold; I approached the living room, watching my worthless dad sit in his blue recliner. While my mom’s body lay with a blank look on her face. Like she was asleep with her eyes open, she looked almost peaceful then, like she had gotten away from my father’s demonic grasp. More Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. It was time for him to go to hell, right where the devil was waiting for him. I ran at my dad, his slowed reaction didn't kick in until his neck was sliced wide open. It was somewhat enjoyable to watch this man I called “my dad” gasp and grab for me, for air, for the last drips of blood that was his life. I watched him bleed to his death; the red blood soaked into the carpet and turned it into a rusty brown color. Nothing really smelled yet, but the steam that rolled out of his neck wound was kind of strange, "Maybe if you would’ve paid the bills on time asshole the house wouldn’t be so cold!” I dropped the knife next to him and left him to wallow in his blood. I went to my mom, and kneeled next to her, “Sorry mom, I did my best, but he got you before I got him.” I kissed her forehead, already cold and lifeless. I covered her up with a sheet.

(New paragraph as he is back in the 'real world')

“I understand that no one knows exactly how you feel Vincent, but one day you will learn revenge is never the way you should do things, for your dad I guess he got what would eventually have come to him, but it shouldn’t have been from his own son.” Jack stood up and opened the door for me to exit. “Whatever.” I growled, exiting the weekly room we sat in. “Same time next week, Vince?” Jack smiled with squinty eyes and a pearl schemed smile. “If I’m still in here,” under my breath I stole a few words, “Uh yeah sure.” Off in opposite directions forever, because next week’s newspapers would have a top story of the week. The next time I would ever see Jack would be at his funeral.

But overall I love this piece. Yes it's slightly gory, but I honestly feel for Vincent, and I love the twist at the end.

Well done!

Keri

P.S. Sorry if I nit-picked too much