Please Critique - A Belonging Creative. (1 Viewer)

Zokunu

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If possible please point out grammatical errors and punctuation. If not, just leave down 1 sentence or two where you think the biggest or confusing problem is within the story. /15 if possible as well. Thank you so much.

My Existence.

It was incontrovertible from that day she wasn’t born; trying to connect with her voice would always be more difficult. But no one understood. How could they?

I felt a wave of peace and happiness pass over me and I was stunned with a sudden thought, a beautiful thought. I let myself surrender to it, let it contain me, have me and myself complete. The world felt beautiful, perfect and absolutely harmless as I dived into this thought, allowing my senses to come alive for the first time. Then I felt longing, a need to pick up the phone and call him; tell him what I’d done, discovered, of what I managed to do. Maybe if he knew how hard I was trying then he would come back. Maybe he’d realize how much he meant to me and he’d regret walking out of the door. But it might be better to talk in person.

I raced outside, passing through those ever-green trees and walking in a dazzling light of a perfect sun as the braid of my silver hair did its best to keep up. Yes, the world had come complete and beautiful; this must be how new beginnings look. I recognised the cold. How it lashed at my cheeks, my arms and legs. How it wasn’t nearly as agonising as the searing pain that ripped through my core. An oppressive silence of memories passes inside me, the three of us, smelling the savoury slow-cooking meat, as it wafted to greet our nose. The smell seemed as foreign as the waving golden cat that kept guard from atop the front counter. We had walked through this same restaurant a number of times now, and every time we would sneak a furtive glance and awkwardly catch the delicious food of golden buns of freshly baked bread. I was happy and I was free, and I finally realized that I contained within me an entity, a being of absolute curiosity. I was a human again.

I saw him in front of the bus stop, waiting for it to arrive as his huge, morbid face only carried sadness. Our words between us were isolated, dead three days. His short, combed black hair; his small spindly stature, almond shaped hazel eyes which have observed too much, know too much, reflecting a world that he inherently had no part in. Normally he would be standing, or playing a melody on his harmonica as our laughs would pervade the air where we would absorb the lives between us. He was a very social man, the best man. But now he sat slumped in a wheel chair, distant and timid, but these aspects only translated into an unkind and unapproachable figure; his strong, striking appearance intimidated those younger than him, and confused those older than him. Why is he so different? I bent down and affectionately wrapped my arms around him, feeling the bulges along his spinal column.

***
Silence.
All I heard was silence.
***
As I neared the apartment, I frowned. There were no Christmas lights here to brighten the streets. No jolly wreath hanging from the door. It shouldn’t surprise me as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. It was so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. The scent of contaminated air served as a constant reminder of its unsterile appearance. But it was just that, merely an appearance, which cloaked whatever smell were hiding underneath. I had walked through this hallway before, and from the end of the hallway I would always hear the crooning of Chinese folk music emanating from their neighbours room. I remembered the time as a child that I would come to visit him. The buildings that I was used to seeing everyday would be flooded with energy, erasing all weariness and the most ordinary parts of town would pervade with happiness.
***
I rang the bell and the door seemed to smile. The waiting started to feel weightless, endless like infinity and yet as quick as a flash of light. The bell took its time to echo inside, and I wondered whether the walls were vibrating in silent response. I shifted my feet on the doormat, the same one I stood on countless of times, waiting for him to swoop me and scope me up in his arms like a doll. The door opened, too soon or was it too late? I couldn’t feel time.
His tall form stood before me, black hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He stared then took a step forward, looked left and right as though checking for eavesdroppers. I smiled despite myself, he looked so lovely. But I had things to explain:
‘I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and I know things have changed but I came to tell you something so wonderful… I did something, but I don’t know if you’ll be happy or sad for it, I just hope it doesn’t hurt you.’ I looked at him and he screwed up his eyes as though in concentration then he turned around and went inside the house, closing the door gently behind him. I didn’t feel pain or hurt or disappointment. Instead, I placed my hand upon the doorframe, it felt like it was beating, like his heart.
‘I wanted to tell you something… I love you and I’m sorry… but I couldn’t stay in a world in which you didn’t love me anymore… I’m sorry, love… but I just killed myself and our baby.’

And that was when I knew the world was no longer perfect…
 

QZP

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Just woke up and read this for brain food. Your expression feels very static and thus the protagonist's voice seems unauthentic (need more show and less tell!).

Examples in your first paragraph: "I felt a wave of peace... I let myself surrender to it... Then I felt longing"

Then I had much confusion when trying to make sense of the bus stop scene and the last part. And then it got real dark with the "I just killed myself and our baby" -_-
 

rumbleroar

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I raced outside, passing through those ever-green trees and walking in a dazzling light of a perfect sun as the braid of my silver hair did its best to keep up. Yes, the world had come complete and beautiful; this must be how new beginnings look. I recognised the cold. How it lashed at my cheeks, my arms and legs. How it wasn’t nearly as agonising as the searing pain that ripped through my core. An oppressive silence of memories passes inside me, the three of us, smelling the savoury slow-cooking meat, as it wafted to greet our nose. The smell seemed as foreign as the waving golden cat that kept guard from atop the front counter. We had walked through this same restaurant a number of times now, and every time we would sneak a furtive glance and awkwardly catch the delicious food of golden buns of freshly baked bread. I was happy and I was free, and I finally realized that I contained within me an entity, a being of absolute curiosity. I was a human again.
this is quite inconsistent...first it is sunny and then its freezing cold?
you need to develop the scene for this one more. where is your character being transported to? it seems a bit random and out of place because first they're kinda sad and they're reminiscing and now they're enjoying the smell of bread...the situation doesn't seem too credible right now, so you need to develop the place and time for this memory.

ok so general feedback:
1. ok I don't have a clear idea about what your story is about...is it about someone trying to reconcile with their lost love after they had an abortion?
2. there's no real clear plot...like what is the complication between the two? it just seems like a very long memory. you need to develop a CREDIBLE situation where something happens between one or more characters. my teachers always say to find the point of tension and draw it out, as a good starting point.
3. there's uneven imagery development. You spend pretty much an entire paragraph showing (tbh it was more telling) about the male's (presumably ex-lover??) physical appearance and him being really sad, but when there's actual movement in the plot, the imagery is underdeveloped and very confusing the follow. you need to keep the imagery development consistent thoroughout
4. i think i've mentioned this before, but credible plot development is crucial. you need strong authenticity and voice within your story and to me, its not apparent in yours. like i dont think anyone would say: "but I just killed myself and our baby." ...soz

i don't want to give you a mark /15 but i think you need to work on:
a. developing a credible plot that can be easily followed
b. have an authentic voice - who is your character? what's happening to them? how do they feel about this?
c. consistent imagery throughout
d. consistency within the plot, i.e. not going from happy to sad in a matter of a paragraph because that's highly unlikely and it seems too incongruous
 

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