Harsh and honest criticism please and thank you, all replies are appreciated!
[quote]An explosion of wooden splinters suspended around him, frozen in motion. The distant hum of traffic, slowed down to a crawl. Beads of sweat, motionless in their descent down his forehead. Caught in this moment, with nothing more than the dope in his hands and in his veins. And the smile on his face.
Then, a gunshot. A bullet whizzes past his ear, singeing his right lobe. Immediately thrown out of the trance by the sudden pain, the drug begins to really take over, sending his body into overdrive. He bursts into a sprint straight down the rusted metal stairs, taking two, three at a time. Invincible. Across the courtyard. Another bullet ricochets off of the concrete below his feet. He slides over the bonnet of the blue sedan parked in the driveway. He vaults the fence without hesitation, before taking off down the alley. He’s around the corner before he takes a breath.
...
I look up at the cascade of coloured light refracted through the stained glass window. Entering the aged building, I sit at the end of the closest pew, beside a child and his mother. He looks up at me, with curiosity in his innocent eyes. He studies my features; the thick bags under my bloodshot eyes, the bedraggled mess of hair upon my head, the emaciated frame of my body. I smile at him, revealing the dark taints staining my teeth, which contrast with my ghostly pale complexion.
He returns a smile, but his mother isn’t as welcoming to my genuine gesture. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him closer to her, protecting him from the bad man. Stay away from him, he’s dangerous. Don’t look at him. She glares at me disapprovingly, and scrunches her face up as if she can smell my afflictions.
We’re praying to the same God, aren’t we?
I turn back to my own thoughts, bowing my head in reverence. I want this to be over. I need this to be over. I need to connect with people again; real people, real connections. I’m so lonely, and my only friend is killing me. There’s nobody else for me. The friends I started with all went their ways; all of us prioritizing scoring over seeing each other. I hope I’m not the only one beginning to feel this way.
So alone, I begin to wonder if even God hears me.
I need this to be over.
...
A new level of pain takes hold; can’t breathe, can’t sleep, can’t think. The line between emotional and physical pain is blurred, removed completely, resulting in a state of complete hopelessness.
Only one goal, one fix, one salvation, one friend.
Empty the powder onto the spoon. Mix in the water. Heat, stir, filter. Secure the arm just over the elbow with a belt. Hold tight. Locate vein. Pierce skin.
Inject.
...
He opens his eyes. Confused, disorientated. Where was he? Men and women stand around and above him, some in uniform, and others in tears. Police, ambulance officers, family, friends. Could he breathe? Yes, but with significant effort. Unable to answer any more questions, he lay there silently, taking in the situation. He turns his head to see his equipment left out, scattered on the ground beside him. Guilt, shame, dismay. The paramedics roll him onto the stretcher, as if he were already a corpse. He’s carried out the door to the ambulance, and all he wants is to be asleep. As he’s rolled into the ambulance, the officers ask if anyone would like to ride with him. He already knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming when they all shake their head, too ashamed to even look at him.
The doors close at his feet, and he closes his eyes. The paramedic shakes his head at him, as if he doesn’t already know. This needs to end here, he knows it.
...
I step out of the clinic’s rotating doors, and take a deep breath of fresh air. I stand there for a moment, pausing to take in the environment. The smell of freshly cut grass and a cool ocean breeze swirl into my nose, and the sound of rolling waves soothe my reformed mind. The sun, at the final stages of its descent, paints the skies in deep purples and reds, setting the clouds above on fire. I begin walking down the footpath in the direction of my home, holding my head up high, finally feeling a part of the world again. At last, my smiles are met with smiles.
Darkness has taken hold by the time I reach my street. I approach my house, immediately realizing that something is amiss. My door has been smashed open, and the blue automobile parked on my lawn causes my stomach to drop. I stand there momentarily, attempting to decide on the next course of action. I take a few gingerly steps towards my front door, before becoming awash with regret, and fear.
The passenger door swings open, and my dealer steps out. He’s here for one reason and only one. He’s here to finish what he started, to finish what I started. My own self-destruction has ultimately led to this. My attempts at saving myself only ever brought me more suffering, and now my ultimate rebirth has been met by the reaper himself.
He cocks the pistol, raising it in line with my forehead. Accepting my fate, I close my eyes and pray.
Maybe now there’ll be a seat saved for me somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.
I've never really been the best guest at this table.[/quote]
I started to lose a little interest toward the middle. But good for a paper. Needa more car chases
Alright, I'll add a car chase just for you.
The descriptive writing is competent and flows smoothly, but I would recommend avoiding so many short compound sentences.
[b]"A bullet whizzes past his ear, singeing his right lobe.[/b]
There, you see? You've got a TON of sentences like this scattered throughout the story. There's nothing [i]wrong[/i] with it, but it reads choppily. Rewrite sentences like this for a smoother feel by dropping the comma and playing with the order of the words.
"His ear is singed by the bullet as it whizzes past."
"The bullet singes his ear as it whizzes past."
Another big complaint I have with your writing is that you keep switching tense and narrative form. That's not a good move. You start in past-tense, third-person, but in the second paragraph you switch to present-tense, first person. Don't do this, pick one style and continue with it. There are few exceptions to the rule, but only under very special circumstances
.
Some writers switch to the present-tense to stress certain themes, but this only really works when entire chapters of much longer works are used. Short stories don't have chapters, and so there needs to be continuous and regular narration throughout to keep it feeling smooth.
Another thing that I noticed is your overuse of fragmented sentences. Using a fragmented sentence to emphasize or add suspense is a perfectly fine tactic, but it needs to be used very sparingly. Overuse ruins the impact of the fragmented sentence, and instead makes the writing feel blocky and unpleasant. The only point of your story that I would recommend using this technique on is the point where the main character is shooting up. The technique can be best used here to show his focus on the situation and to act as mirror to his own thoughts.
The story itself is pretty cool, but it needs some more fleshing out. Tell us why he was being shot at at the beginning. Clarify what happened at the end of the story. I got that the character was sent to the hospital for an overdose, but the period between that and him arriving home to find the dealer needs a lot more explanation. Did he go to rehab? Had he kicked the addiction for good? How long did it take? What kind of challenges were there? When you're writing these details, remember to [i]show, not tell[/i].
You have an interesting premise which deserves more attention. Your story is awfully shallow right now, but if you keep playing with it you could turn it into something much more memorable.
Thanks a lot for the reply, it is appreciated! However much of your advise unfortunately is invalid as I'm writing this as a practice for a short story exam at school, so I need to stay within roughly 1000 words (it is about 1000 currently).
With the changing perspectives, it was of course intentional. The segments in which he's at a low (i.e. stealing drugs, recovering from an overdose), I used third person. The intended effect is that his personality/identity is being damaged and isn't coming out as it truly should. The story is told from a third person to create a sense of detachment from his true self.
The segments in which he's trying to overcome his habits (visiting church and praying, stepping out of rehab), he has a much stronger sense of identity and is accomplishing what he personally, truly wants.
Second person/no perspective is used in the central paragraph in which he is taking drugs, as at this moment, he has completely no identity. The addiction has taken control of him, completely destroying any sense of self he may have. As stated, there is only one thing on his mind at that moment.
I appreciate the comment but I might keep the structure I have going at the moment, especially as the topic this is for is 'Belonging', which is all about this identity/sense of self crap, so it seems appropriate.
I will go over my story in terms of sentence structure. I agree, there is indeed an overuse of fragmented/short sentences, but I guess that's just my style. Perhaps it is describing his scrambled and broken mind? I will revise the sentences in the parts in which he has a little more control over himself to match the situation.
As stated, fleshing out is out of the question for my current situation. I did however address some things when I revised my story. He is running at the start from his dealer after stealing drugs from him (the same blue car shows up at the end to kill him, bringing things full circle). I edited the start and the end to make this slightly more obvious.
At the end, he has kicked the addiction, as he feels a part of the world as he steps out of the clinic. His unfortunate end however, has hope. He is able to identify himself with God/religion, and he feels as if he may better belong in the next life now that he has redeemed himself of his sins.
Thanks again for the comments, they've definitely been taken into consideration (:
Never sacrifice readability to force your point. Having a well-told story is a hundred times more important than having a story crammed full of ambiguous symbolism. Stick to one narrative format.
Well, my English teacher understood the meaning behind it and she's the one marking it so I guess the trade off here is worth it.
I don't believe that poor writing is ever acceptable when you have the ability to improve.
Well it's subjective isn't it? For this particular purpose, it seems appropriate as it strengthens the overall message, at least in my opinion. Whilst I respect yours, I'd rather stick with my own as it is shared by the person who will be putting marks on the story.
You didn't really humanize the main character, making it difficult to become involved emotionally. I understand that you were under length restrictions, but literally all we know about the guy is that he's addicted to drugs and prays.
This is true.
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