Young Writers Society

He throws his hands up for balance and leans into the wind. She shouts and hollers and yells

We pillow our heads on each other's shoulders and wrap out arms around the ideas of each other.

Kainan smiled. The wind may blow, but he had already won.

carelessaussie13 wrote:She studies herself. Skin, legs, arms and hair bare their secrets tot he mirror. She sees her eyes; their black pits gleam with strength and compassion and something else. Something deeper. They gleam with desperation.
She sees her hands; ten long, strange appendages open and close in front of her face, wrapping themselves obstinately around. . . nothing but air.
Who is she under all that pink skin? There must be something more beneath tibia and fibia ((fibula)), beneath retina, scapula and gluteus maximus. Is she the hopelessness in her eyes? Is she the futility in her grasping hands? Is she the furious little dip in her chin?
It's not good enough. Penny turns from the mirror and vomits on the pink tile floor.

carelessaussie13 wrote:We are fifteen. We are painfully, achingly, horrible fifteen. ((Great line)) For us, every moment is an agony. Every minute teems with problems we cannot solve and dreams we cannot achieve and promises we cannot hope to keep. We are fifteen, and all we have is each other.
We won't tell you. If you ask us, we'll say we're friends, classmates, study buddies. But we're lying. We are each other's ((others)) worlds. We are fifteen together, and that is enough.

carelessaussie13 wrote:It's the rules that call to her. It;s ((It's)) the excitement when everything falls into place like the evenly criss-crossing streets of downtown. Liz loves math. ((this is kind of a random thing to just put into this paragraph, or even the story. I would start a new paragraph and rephrase that a little)) If you obey the rules, you can do anything. You can make the numbers do anything.
Euclidean Geometry homework packets like ((lie?)) neatly before her. She especially loves this new form of math. She leys ((lays?)) out her thinking -statement, reason, statement, reason- like an unfolding tablecloth and smoothes ((smooths)) the creases with her fingers.
Yes, she thinks. Here, here are the secrets of the universe.
It's easy. Comfortable math words roll through her head-congruent, supplimentary ((supplementary)), perpendicular. They taste like raspberries. Everything is logical. Perfect.
Outside her bedroom, her parents are yelling. Something shatters. Her mother screams. Liz turns on Frnaz Ferdinand and slips in her earbuds ((ear buds)). "You see her, you can't touch her. You hear her, but you can't hold her."

carelessaussie13 wrote:Math problem two. Statement, reason. Statement, reason. Perfect.
SLAM!

carelessaussie13 wrote:What was that? A gunshot? Dad screams, "Damn it, Silvia!" Was that another gunshot?

carelessaussie13 wrote:She shouts and hollers and yells; the wind hurls back the shattered fragments of his curses like paper money or flimsy autumn leaves.

carelessaussie13 wrote:We are together. We are one. Last year we meshed; next year we will drift apart. Now, we clin ((cling?)) to each precious moment. Our eyes expand with the strength of out longing for now.

She studies herself. Skin, legs, arms and hair bare their secrets tot he mirror. She sees her eyes; their black pits gleam with strength and compassion and something else. Something deeper. They gleam with desperation.

Should be bare their secrets to the mirror.

She sees her hands; ten long, strange appendages open and close in front of her face, wrapping themselves obstinately around. . . nothing but air.

Who is she under all that pink skin? There must be something more beneath tibia and fibia, beneath retina, scapula and gluteus maximus. Is she the hopelessness in her eyes? Is she the futility in her grasping hands? Is she the furious little dip in her chin?

I loved this, it was all serious until gluteus maximus, when I laughed. Maybe you should change it if you want people to take this seriously.

It's not good enough. Penny turns from the mirror and vomits on the pink tile floor.

I liked how you said pink tile floor, I thought that was much better than just saying that she vomited on the floor.

2.

We are fifteen. We are painfully, achingly, horrible fifteen. For us, every moment is an agony. Every minute teems with problems we cannot solve and dreams we cannot achieve and promises we cannot hope to keep. We are fifteen, and all we have is each other.

This is nice but the second sentence is awkward. I don’t know how to fix it though, so if you like it, keep it.

We won't tell you. If you ask us, we'll say we're friends, classmates, study buddies. But we're lying. We are each other's worlds. We are fifteen together, and that is enough.

I am starting to really like this, especially the last part of that paragraph. We are fifteen together, and that is enough. That is gorgeous.
3. LIZ

It's the rules that call to her. It;s the excitement when everything falls into place like the evenly criss-crossing streets of downtown. Liz loves math. If you obey the rules, you can do anything. You can make the numbers do anything.

Should be it’s. I’m starting to get confused, I don’t really understand, who is Penny? Who are the two fifteen year olds? Who is Liz? I’m hoping you will explain.

Euclidean Geometry homework packets like neatly before her. She especially loves this new form of math. She leys out her thinking -statement, reason, statement, reason- like an unfolding tablecloth and smoothes the creases with her fingers.

Should be lays.

Yes, she thinks. Here, here are the secrets of the universe.

I like how you said here twice, it adds character.

It's easy. Comfortable math words roll through her head-congruent, supplimentary, perpendicular. They taste like raspberries. Everything is logical. Perfect.

I think it should be supplementary. I think it would sound better like this. Comfortable math words roll through her head; congruent, supplementary and perpendicular. They taste like raspberries on her tongue. Everything is logical. Everything is perfect.

Outside her bedroom, her parents are yelling. Something shatters. Her mother screams. Liz turns on Frnaz Ferdinand and slips in her earbuds.

Should be Franz.

"You see her, you can't touch her. You hear her, but you can't hold her."

What? Lyrics to a song? If so, should be italicized I think.

Math problem two. Statement, reason. Statement, reason. Perfect.

SLAM!

What was that? A gunshot?

Dad screams, "Damn it, Silvia!"

Was that another gunshot?

Okay, at first I thought her father said was that another gunshot, I had to read it again. I also think your slipping out of your style that I loved at the beginning.

Liz turns the music all the way up. Her hand quakes. She drops her pencil. Tears splatter on problem three. Where are the reasons? Where are the reasons?

I like the line: tears splatter on problem three.

Franz Ferdinand screams in her ear. "She's not so special so look what you've done boy. She's not so special so look what you've done, boy."

Lyrics?

4. KAINAN

Like a mercenary's double-edged blade the wind slices across the land. Trees curl their long-stationary backs and throw up their fingers, crying,

Beautiful paragraph.

"We surrender! We surrender!" The wind, that night-clad assassin, will not yield.

Kainan stands atop Black Mountain and wrestles for breath. He throws up his arms for balance and leans into the wind. She shouts and hollers and yells; the wind hurls back the shattered fragments of his curses like paper money or flimsy autumn leaves.
The wind grows stronger. It strikes again and again at his body, but Kainan stands firmly. His clothes billow behind him. Kainan smiled. The wind may blow, but he has already won.

I like the last line. Goodness, I’m confused about everything though.

5.

We are together. We are one. Last year we meshed; next year we will drift apart. Now, we clin to each precious moment. Our eyes expand with the strength of out longing for now.

Cling. I also think out should be our but I’m not sure.

"Let's drive across America!" suggests Lorraine. We are discussing the exciting notion of getting driver's licenses next year. Lorraine is the oldest; she will get hers first.

"We can tool around San Fransisco and stuff."

Wait, were the fifteen year olds Penny, Lorraine and Kainan?

"Vegas, baby!" cries Kainan. Dollar bill signs glisten in his eyes.

"This is gonna be so much fun," exclaims Penny is a baby voice.

But we won't tour America. Kainan's family is moving to Washington D. C. next year. Lorraine is full of empty promises. And Penny . . . well, Penny has her own journey.

Still, we dream. We pillow our heads on each other's shoulders and wrap out arms around the slender ideas of each other. For now, for this preciously small moment, we are together.

That’s beautiful.