Surrounded
I'm surrounded by blue. Moonlight leaks through spread curtains. Rain streams down the window, tears down my face. Where's mommy? I toss, I turn. The clock reads 12:05 A.M. My dad snores.
We rush through the packed parking lot. I catch a glimpse of the starting time, as we hurry past the box office. 7:15 flickers faintly through the haze, no 6:15, or is it 7:45? I'm not sure; my vision isn't the best-- I really need glasses. We arrive just as it's beginning, the smell of freshly popped popcorn lingers in the air. The only seats available are in the front. We flock to our designated destination and begin our viewing experience. All four of us, heads cocked at 50 degree angles, watch with glazed eyes as Optimus Prime's booming voice echoes throughout the theater. My sister, who is sat to my left, trembles with fear. What a baby. My mom sits to my right, her boyfriend next to her. Which one is this? One? Two? It doesn't matter, none of them are as good as Dad. I've never been shot before, but hearing your mom being verbally abused is the closest thing one can feel to being shot right in the heart. But neither guns nor shouting are allowed at movie theaters, and for this I'm glad because for once, we are happy-- content.
I lie in bed replaying it like an old vhs tape. There was so much of it. Smeared on the pavement, splattered on the car. My memories are painted red. I turn my attention to the ceiling. The trees begin to make shadows. I am distracted. The leaves dance across the plaster, creating my own mini motion picture. For a moment, I forget about it all. Then the red leaks in again. I close my eyes, sending tears down my cheeks.
First comes the rain, then the arguing. We escaped the theatre with smiles on our faces, discussing our favorite parts, but before we got to the car they were at it. They are shouting now. My sister cries as the car starts. As we cruise down the highway, the argument rides a crescendo until we reach his house. He pulls in across the street, turns off the car, and we sit. The argument persists. My mom's voice cracks and I feel it in my heart. I hate him. I see his finger pointing at my her, as his voice grows louder, darker. They leave the car and continue the bout on the other side of the street, near his house. A car drives by. The street lights flicker orange onto the wet pavement, as the remnants from independence day explode in the distance.
My feet, cold with sweat, dampen the thick sheets. I am terrified. Questions begin running through my mind. What if they saw me? Do they know where I live? What if they come here to finish the job? Thunder sends vibrations through the house. My dad's snoring is silenced with the touch of my cold, damp hand. "Dad, I'm scared", I confess. "Don't worry about it, nothing's gonna happen. Go to sleep" he replies. He rolls over and the snoring starts again. I roll over, rewind and replay the scene in my head.
My sister is still crying. God knows why. Her soprano pitch shrieks compete for my attention with the shouts of the argument across the street. It's a tough battle, but the argument edges out the victory. I rest my head against the glass and gaze across the street, too tired to be angry. A car drives by and I hear a firework. A Black Cat maybe? No, I've lit Black Cats before and they don't spark, this one did. Black cats aren't this loud either. The only things louder are the screams. I feel it in my chest. His body falls life-less onto the pavement. I don't know what's happening. My sister's cries grow louder. I finally see my mom. The look of terror on her face finds its way onto mine, as I realize it all. She is on her knees crying behind his body, surrounded by red. Both her life and heart are broken. She rushes over to the car and moves it to the side of his house. I don't know why. As I begin to piece it all together, I recall finding his gun under my couch just weeks before. I begin to cry. My mom gets out and calls 911. Before I know it, the car is enveloped with blue and red.
The rain has stopped and so have my tears. The bed is hot and the air is still. I feel numb. The loss that my mom is undoubtedly feeling now brings me physical pain. I can feel it creeping into my chest. But the inevitable justice served tonight silences the pain. I've always been good at math, but it doesn't take a mathematician to know that a loved one's pain minus the rightful justice served to their abuser equals numb. Does that make me a bad person, a heartless pesron? I lie staring, as confusion and self doubt hang over me like a black cloud.
I'm led into a small, colorful room. A gaudy, floral couch lie in the middle, surrounded by stuffed animals and toys. The man in the suit tells me that i can lay on it. "No, i'm okay" I reply shakily. He gives me a look and sits down. He begins to ask. One month removed from the shooting and people are still asking questions. "Do you happen to remember the color of the car?" he asks. "Yea, I think it was a black truck" I lied. It was really dark and my vision isn't the best-- I really need glasses. He continues to press, unearthing weeks of buried memories. I feel weak, vulnerable, unaffected by my friendly, colorful surroundings. I am no longer a boy, but not yet a man. I am surrounded by black.
Jordan, welcome to the team :) I hope that you find this website is fruitful towards your writing development. However, I notice that this essay is quite unusual from others, a personal story essay. Thus, I appreciate what you have made because it is not that easy to be a story-teller, and you already did a good job to be one of those remarkable story-tellers.
With regards to your questions concerning grammar / good storytelling, first, please accept my sincere condolence for you and your mom lost. Your story was indeed a major dramatic one. I have never thought that the ending would be like that. It is undoubtedly that this was a remarkable story-telling essay. I think that if the story can make the reader feel or imagine the situation that happened in the story, it means the story was already good. Kudos to you for making a dramatic story from your real life event.
Meanwhile, about your grammatical range and accuracy, you need to pay more attention of fragmented sentence(s) (sentence which has no subject nor verb). Some of your sentences were missing their subjects or verbs. In addition, some spelling errors were also existed. Let me show you one of them below:
- ...bed replaying it like an old vhsVHS tape. (abbreviation, needs to be capitalized)
- They are smeared on the pavement, and splattered on the car. (missing subject)
- I see his finger pointing at my hermom(did you mean 'mom'?)
- A gaudy, floral couch lie in the middle, they are surrounded by stuffed animals and toys. (missing subject, I have no idea what is exactly the subject that you've meant. I only made up those subjects. Correct me if I'm wrong)
- Does that make me a bad person, a heartless pesronperson ?
In addition, I think your essay was somewhat unclear in using tenses. You were telling a past-story but your tenses were mostly simple present or present perfect. Also, I noticed that you keep shifting your tenses from simple present to past tense randomly. My suggestion is that, if it was a past-story, try to be more consistent in using them. Shifting tenses are also okay if it is in appropriate place. For example, quotation or direct speech, you can shift it to simple present or continuous.
Hi Jordan, after reading your essay, I must say, it's as if I read a published short story, you managed to write an essay / story that keeps your readers hooked and continue reading, I was trying to predict how it will end and you made a very interesting ending.
When it comes to your grammar, obviously, a little more practice needs to be done, however, the purpose of this essay is to create a story that is worth a read, something that will minimize the focus on your writing format and will maximize the attention to the details you put in the story. The main goal of the story is to create that imaginative aspect of the readers mind and make sure that the reader goes and visit that world where the story took place and at the same time, understand the essence and the lessons embedded in the story.
I hope my insights help and a friendly reminder, a good writer can hardly be a good story teller but a good storyteller is a great writer, I mean at least base on my experience.Keep writing.
Jordan, I find a pleasure in reading your short story. You answer the prompt clearly in a simple language. You know, I am not a big fan of literary works, especially the prose; but then seeing your essay changes my perspectives about reading literature. You have powers to stimulate reader's imagination, as you can see, I am new to literary works, but somehow your work brings me to the world in the story. In other words, I believe that you can write any stories which are understandable to all people, regardless their prior knowledge about the literature.
But Jordan, would you mind to tell me what is the word "he" (in the sentence "He pulls..." onwards) refers to? Is it refers to the character Dad, or you have any other male character in your essay?
My suggestion is to keep the simplicity of your writing so it does not distract the aesthetic and the readability level on your next writing.
I am waiting for your next stories, or even if you are going to write a book, novel, or compilation of short stories, let me know. I would like to be the first person to read the essay if you do not mind :D
hey thanks for the feedback. I'm still getting used to using the website so I apologize for taking so long to reply. In regards to the grammar mistakes, grammar had never really been my strong suit and I knew this draft would have a lot of errors since it was my first one. Again, thanks for the corrections and feedback!
I was wondering if any of you could give any advice with how to end the essay. I had played around with the idea of ending the essay from my moms perspective to show how the incident effect her since she was obviously more effected than me, but I didn't want to clnfusion or complicate the essay. I also thought about expanding the scene between the interviewee and me, but I didn't want it to drag on too long. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!
Hi Jordan, when it comes to the ending of the essay, since the overall essay evolved in you, as the main character of the essay, I believe it is best that you stick to ending the essay with you as the same character and the effects of the event in you.
Indeed, it will create a confusion if you shift the story around and involve your mothers circumstances and how she got affected by the incidents, this can be included but not necessarily as a conclusion or the ending part of the essay.
Moreover, the length of the essay is good enough so you don't have to add any additional parts of the essay.
I believe the short story is imaginative, fairly written and sparks that writer side of you. I wish to review more of your essays and writing projects soon and keep writing.
Hello there, please be advised that you are supposed to follow the standard essay structure that is Introduction, main body conclusion, also. Your vocabulary is quite narrow, work on widening its' range. Before you start writing your essay, always make logical groups of your work. This will enable you to spread your thougths much better through the paper. Also, try reading more informative essay blogs, something like academic-paper.co.uk/blog , etc. Keep reading more information in English; keeping watching English media in a native language, usually this gives the best results, good luck, hope it helps you!
