Critique Thread

Any better?
>On a July evening, a girl sat on the steps of the porch and listened to the rain. The sky was gray and brought its pallor to the yard, one filled with pebbles and indian celery. The girl stared at a leash between the gray and green. She went to the corner of the porch, pulled in the leash, and, returned to the steps. She laid the leash on her lap and toyed with its broken clasp. She closed her eyes.

Better in some ways, worse in others. Though I much prefer this one overall. I especially love these:

>The sky was gray and brought its pallor to the yard

>between the gray and green

>She laid the leash on her lap and toyed with its broken clasp

Great job user!

yeah good work

I'm the one that teased you about the adjectives. Good job this is much better user.

Prologue: pastebin.com/3HYGqe3Z
Chapter one: pastebin.com/2DYvwvEh

Please tear it to pieces.

Reposting from last thread, I've changed some things around. I don't really write poetry in general so any critiques are welcome.

I have met you, my love, in dreams
Though I have lost you a thousand times:
In clouds of sand kicked up by your passage,
In screens of water lilies,
In spring downpours during which your fragrance
Was smothered by the magnolias

To know you is to know a silver filament
Worked insouciantly through
The eye of a needle; a light cast
In gasps against a silk sheet;
A spark struck wildly
Against the harvest moon

How many times have I called you, my love,
As the bells have chimed in autumn?
How many times have I called you, my love,
When the birds have flown into the southern sky?
How many times have I called you, my love,
When the leaves have fallen on the mountains?

I have chased you, my love, over
Dreaming snow-fields and spires of ice
As the stars loosed their moorings;
I have chased you, my love,
Into hovels of earthworms and eagles’ roosts;
I have chased you, my love,
Against the gnashing of the wind

And sung your name in the rain

Is there any meter that you are going for? It reads like it was randomly written out. Also, I personally enjoy rhyme more than blank verse, but you didn't even write in iambic or something else that I can tell.

Critique this, please.

Sorry, auto corrected out the accented Es

The cause is Ozymandian
The map of Sapokanikan
Is sanded and bevelled
The land lone and levelled
By some unrecorded and powerful hand
Which plays along the monument
And drums upon a plastic bag
The brave-men-and-women-so-dear-to-God-
And-famous-to-all-of-the-ages rag

Sang: Do you love me?
Will you remember?
The snow falls above me
The renderer renders:
The event is in the hand of God

Did you purposely use an inconsistent meter? If not, I would write it in one, and if you're going to rhyme in the beginning I would also make that consistent. You don't have to rhyme everything, but some rhyme scheme would help. The "plastic bag" also sounds out of place.

It's a very pretty love poem that will get you laid if she likes you already. Don't send it to Stacy. Send it to Emily the girl next door. She will appreciate it more.

The repetition was a little much, it would have been nice if the last How had been a curveball

It's not fictional writing but I still wouldn't mind a bit of critique. I guess pick an entry at random and critique it.

juanfitzcarraldo.wordpress.com

submitted this to a thing yesterday
pastebin.com/nxMcJ9Mm

The dialogue between the characters is pretty good, but you describe what the characters are doing too much, I think. I don't need a description of how he poured bowls of ramen or anything like that. There's also very little backstory on these characters, there's some seemingly unnecessary scenes, like with the confederate flag, and there's a few references that only people on this site would really get, though I don't think that's necessarily all too bad, but it shouldn't be there if you want to appeal to larger audiences.

You're correct, there's no meter, it's just free verse. I generally prefer rhyme as well but I just wanted to try something different.

You could read it as a love poem about thots, for sure. The nature of poetry is subjective I suppose, but my intention was for "my love" to encapsulate idealized desire. For instance, for fulfillment or happiness, something that is rare or fleeting or entirely nonexistent. But that rare thing could also be a longed for lover or something like that as well.

Duly noted, I'll see if I can do something to reduce it and add a more surprising element.

Don't know how difficult this might be to look into because of the format, but there's only one way to find out. I'm making a small casualish puzzle-game which interleaves a story into the gameplay 50/50 to help with the pacing. Because of this, it is also delivered in small pieces (see gif related) and at times depends on the context of the game itself.

Here's the text I got for the first third of the section (lines indicate a level break):

-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------
Seek Etyliv,
Those were the last words I heard,
before getting... pushed into this hole.
-------------------------------------------
I wouldn't be here, if it wasn't my fault.
-------------------------------------------
This dungeon is called Karanos...
Prison of Thieves
-------------------------------------------
I killed to survive,
Much like I did, in my former life.
-------------------------------------------
Thief -- out of all the trades I jacked.
Got caught for the most petty crime.
-------------------------------------------
And Etyliv is, well... is believed to be,
Sorceress of Hope,
A folk tale, spread amongst the young.
-------------------------------------------
But lets take one step at a time.
-------------------------------------------
I don't know who they are.
Why do you ask?,
-------------------------------------------
If nothing else, today I'll admit:,
I found some comfort in death.
-------------------------------------------
Sure it sounds crazy, all the way through.
Mesmerized I am, was and will be, by you.
-------------------------------------------
That I kept waiting for another day...
I am sorry,
-------------------------------------------
But I served my time for all that.
Got stripped of all things but my skin.
-------------------------------------------
...
This dungeon, took hold of my mind.
Said seek and I sought, Etyliv divine.
-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------

I'm considering the story the weakest part of the game and it would be nice to improve it.

Here's the demo if you need to see how it works first hand, spoilers for in case it's considered shilling: rokasv.itch.io/seek-etyliv

Interesting user. What is the goal of the player every level? To hit all the boxes in the least amount of hits? I think for the most part the writing is fine, but try writing it in iambic and see if you like it better, For example
>Seek Etyliv. Last words I heard before t'was pushed into this hole.

And never mind, I watched the gif all the way through, so I got a feel for the gameplay.

We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

The goal is clear the level and not die.

The main issue that I have with it is that it quickly becomes very abstract and while it's there only for the ambience/context of the gameplay, if it does not add anything to advance the story, people end up phasing out and ignoring it.

The gif is also of only the text in the post, there's 3x that in the actual thing: pastebin.com/zMhbff1k

>like with the confederate flag
that eventually becomes nessecary

"citation needed" is a meme outside of Veeky Forums (and can be understood even if it isn't taken to be a meme), though the weeab jap music is hit or miss. The hidden chad joke is fine if missed.

-are the eggs better than the ramen? Whenever people talk about the overdescription they talk about it in general, but it's always the ramen which they cite as an example, and when I get praise for the description people always go for the eggs. I'm wondering if it's less a matter of the detail level and more a matter of it just being a bad description. Either that or people just don't like having 5c ramen described to them as much as something like eggs and salmon, which is understandable.

First half was great but work on the repetition in that third stanza

Do you ever feel
like a plastic bag
Drifting thought the wind
Wanting to start again

Do you ever feel
feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in

Do you ever feel
already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that there's
still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on show 'em what your worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Don't worry, user. I got the "Ouch" joke. If the flag becomes necessary than that's fine of course, but I just re-read the egg scene and I really don't want to hear about all the little details. What the reader is more likely to want to hear is the conversation between the characters and plot development, which the details of every little thing doesn't help with. If you're describing something important in great detail then that is probably acceptable, but it's eggs and locks you're describing. Nobody is reading the story for that.

Fair enough, I just wanted to know if it was a general thing or just that part.

Yeah watching the gif all the way through made me understand the game. If you're worried about the story being ignored (I wouldn't think too much about it) you can add more poetic description to the Sorceress and clearly tell why she the player would want to seek her. Is she more beautiful than Hellen of Troy? Does she grant people magical items? The poetic devices like meter and rhyme can help with making an impact on the reader and also helps for remembering.

It's in general. There is a lot of description, too much even for short parts, like the actions the guy took when entering the girl's apartment. You can probably cut out him taking off his coat, shoes and headphones, since most people will imagine that he did that anyways if you skip ahead to him walking through the hallway. I feel similar slashing could be done throughout the whole thing to make it better. Then you can describe more important things in great detail without tiring the reader.

Some mythical references could be interesting. Thanks, user.

No problem. If you want the player to care somewhat about the story, then know your audience and make it compelling to them.

we real cool
we left school
we lurk late
we strike straight
we sing sin
we thin gin
we jazz june
we die soon

I'm so fucking mad now

10/10 structure user
Honestly best in thread.

finna beat this nigga with a golden shovel, you feel me?

yoooo nigga that was lit af

Anyone?

I'm 20 IQ in literature, but the "Are not as bright as her gems are." line was pleasant to read. If it was me, I'd switch up the "Are not" with "Nowhere" to avoid repetition.

Thanks, user. But the poem is written in iambic, so I'd have to change it up more than that, but I'll see what I can do.

How's this?

Drop the first word in each line and it's great.

And ruin the meter? No thank you. It wouldn't even make all the lines sound better, only a couple of them.

TnD

I-35, Spotify while I drive
Cause if I gotta die I’mma need a different vibe
Tryna find some Tribe, tryna find Grimes
Skip button won’t let me not hear Sublime
Wreckless on the ride home; eyes on my iPhone
If I don’t arrive you can find me in the bright chrome
Shining in the hi-beams, buried in a white screen
Lying with my legs gone, singing to the young me,

“Oh my child, oh my child
How I love you, my sweet child
You are different, you are special
But not as special as you think”

ivid memories, dreams and clemency
Gigantic, more than the beast swimming in Atlantic
Manipulation carries me away, puppeteer
Comes to save my day
With treacherous acts, serving poisonous meals
And altruistic as fallen may be,
Glaring down upon the roots of pollen seeds,
Greed, bleed, weak, had a human ever been meek.

Starry nights, glaring frights
Blight, blight, blight
Had a human ever been so bright.

Lucid dreams, illusionary scenes
Caught it as the firefly in my palm,
The butterfly wilted but with no qualms
And the rising, chaotic curtains
Merciless, as always,
Didn’t care for my fear of stage,
To be exposed of every weakness
Spelling out my name
For those to ascertain the jigsaw puzzle
I laid before roses, thorns that pricked
My ghostly soul, my taunting groan
Haunting me with the crimson of which bled,
Of the arousing bees that I’ve shed
From alluring feathers to rainstorm weathers,
Death, meth, regret, threat, had a human ever fret.

I don’t spiral like I used to
Peyton Manning of the mind
No more wading in the deep end
I was something in my prime
On my best days, I’ve still got some
It just takes me twice the time

Please don’t send the cops in when I’m naked
I’d never hurt someone who wasn’t me
You don’t have to keep me where the walls are bare
Take my skin but leave my insides clean

I offer up a poem:

If what I learned from the sky was this;
To memorize the shapes as each sun sets–
But don’t look him in the eyes at noon.
And never try to know the moon.

If what the sky‘s shown me is true,
It's never actually been blue.
And all untruthful shades it takes
Have relayed their lies to muddied lakes.

And if one celestial thing is fact,
It's that the stars never answer back.
And I'm beginning to think they all just pass
As accidentally as bits of pretty glass.

If what I learned from the sky is this;
Is that it’s really an abyss,
And when I am gazing at it all,
Eyes and legs melt under the pall
Of light and air and nothing more.

Hell yes, I love it. Would love to hear this performed, by the right person.

The last stanza feels a little disconnected from the first two, it’s initial flow is broken, but I feel like the last line justifies that. Overall I think it’s stellar. The opening lines definitely made me feel some kind of way.

I'm I'll do C4C if anyone's interested.

The depressed working person that all of a sudden becomes passionate about something is a bit cliche, but that's hard to avoid since so many things have already been done, but it's just a bit too bland. Maybe a bit of foreshadowing could help. I also don't find the traveler to be a compelling character yet, though that could change, but it would be better to make a good impression on the reader with every character you want them to like, which is lacking. You don't have too much excess detail, but everyone could use some pruning. I'd suggest giving it a fresh read through after a week or a few days and cutting everything you can admit is superfluous.

I'll give it a shot in like 2hrs

Middlemarch, middle-brow, Middlesex, triple crown
Bitter man, middle child, Middle man, Mr. Plow
Little cow, brittle wrists, whistle hits then scribble down
Little cat, little meow, big dog, bow wow
How now, Brown cow? Bitch, where art thou?
Tao got my heart loud, so this shit is art now?
Got me an art gal, they call that van Gogh ho
In photos my polo’s reversed cause no logos
Don’t show love for no po, I am so-so po-mo
That po-mo is no mo therefore I’m po-po-mo
No digo “yolo” porque solo dos yo’s
Cuando yo smoke dro, soy como un yo-yo
Soy marrón Dosto, mi nombre es Fyodor
Oh no, oh, oh no, yellow Yoko Ono
Don’t call me loco; bro, that’s a low blow
You’re not my bro, so no somos nosotros

user try actually rapping this stuff in your head and see if it even remotely sounds good. it doesnt, its choppy and uneven in emphasis.

I rapped it out loud and it works with my specific syncopation. I understand that it might not translate well to text but, content aside, it works metrically.

Shy

does your shyness breathe in rhythms,
expel blood, bring the death in you toward resurrection?
can i hear your shyness? can you see me?
can i see you?

all bodies walking, covered in fear-
laughing in it, soaking in it,
like holding a gemstone of unparalleled beauty,
is shyness your deepest fantasy?

>How now, Brown cow? Bitch, where art thou?

>they call that van Gogh ho

>I am so-so po-mo That po-mo is no mo therefore I’m po-po-mo

user I fucking hate you

I like the first half, but the second half is hard not to stumble over.

The Spanish is broken but funny

Thanks man. What did you write in here?

This

Best in thread:

Worst in thread:

15 year old Dutch-Jewish girl becomes pregnant

pastebin.com/htx8ZzPr

great/8

this is fine barring the last line

>She went toward the corner of the porch,
okay

>reeled in the leash and laid it in onto her lap
alright, another item

>she peered at the sky
what? Change the she to an and.

jejune is good to have there for spacing but there might be a better word. I wouldn't just cut it out though.

much worse

First two stanzas were great, next two were dogshit. You started getting preachey and edgy and not in any authentic or profound way.

To emphasize though. The first two were genuinely great. Like they actually touched me. Keep up the good work there

Didn't get a reply last time. Should I take that as a sign?

My second attempt at writing since high school, my first attempt at re-writing.

What about...

Fuck me. pastebin.com/dJZ7Z8Xb

The thing goes BRAAAAAAAAP
BRAP PAP PAP PAP PAP
PFFFFTT-BRAAAPPAPAP
Ya done now

More apples to orangesey. I liked the first line in the original a lot. In the latest version I would have preferred "pulled the leash in," and you've also got too many commas sprinkled around the and. The imagery you're giving also doesn't stand on its own as well in my opinion, I felt like I had more a grasp of what you were talking about in the original.

Sorry for getting back to you late.

It's beautiful, but perhaps a bit repetitive. It already gets established in the first stanza how beautiful her eyes are. I'd use the other ones to describe how they enhance the other features on her, but that's just me.

nice

best work of the 21st century

quick braps

Not very nice user :(

>TFW I want to write my novel as a series of corresponding letters between a child and her parents.

The poem is about eyes and trying to find the origin of the color. I plan on adding more to it that is different from what is there currently. Thanks though, user.

“First it started in the night. I would hear sirens and bombs. I would look down at my hands and not see hands at all, I would just peer down into the darkness of my room and see unfamiliar flesh, an inconsolate sack of rattling bones. In my dreams, my head is a placid island, and my surroundings, an ocean of chaos, just like the trenches. This is what shock truly is for me. My problem is that it’s getting worse now. It happens during the day. An old car starts on the corner and I dive behind milk crates expecting enemy fire. Everyone looks at me like I’m the town idiot. I run a hardware store for God’s sake. What would it do for business if everyone thinks the owner is a stark raving lunatic?”
“Trust me when I say this Leonard, your reputation is secure. I’m sure your earnings reflect that. And as for your episodes, don’t you worry, I have just the thing.”
Dr. Russell opened his creaking strongbox and produced a dark bottle. Inside was a thick syrup.
“This will help with sleep. You can also take it during the day to calm your nerves, but I’d recommend keeping daytime use to a minimum.”
“Can’t tell you how grateful I am to you Dr. Russel.”
“Well me and Linda will certainly keep you in our prayers. I’ll send the bill in first thing tomorrow.”
“You deserve every penny. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dr. Russell and walked out into the muddy streets. The rain had cleared, but the sun was still hidden behind a dense layer of clouds.

Thanks a lot, I appreciate.
I’m curious though how the last stanzas are so different from the first two, like is there anything specific that makes them sound inauthentically profound? I’m personally not attached to the final stanza and see what you mean there, I’ll honestly probably rewrite it, but the third I do like.

It's pretty good, user. You could rewrite some parts to make them sound more like the rest of the story, for example:
>It’s the feeling I get when I slow the death rate of cattle during a severe drought. Hours spent cutting mulga trees for the cattle to eat. The sweet stench of a rotting carcass 20 meters to my left
The first and third sentences sound different from the rest because it doesn't sound like this person is saying it. Instead of a specific distance (20m) you could write "not too far off" or something more fitting of the character, especially since he mentions himself he isn't that bright. I also don't know if this is a short story or a novel, so maybe have the main character still being confused and not quite yet realize he's just running from his problems until later on. Either way, I think you need to work on character progression or at least revealing the character in a different way maybe. Less of the character describing themselves and their problems and more of their actions and reactions to reveal stuff about them, maybe. Also, everybody can use some cutting, so just go through and make better what you don't feel is right or just cut it.

Snorted aloud at the bitch where art thou part. Well done user

Took me a while, tell me what you think! It’s the start to my first novel.

(1/3)

It couldn't have been any more of a normal day. Maths was boring (as usual), we didn't learn anything in French (either); English was also boring and D.T. was coursework so nothing interesting there. At lunch, although, I had four girls following me. Twelve less than usual. It must really seem like I've got it all. The grades, the women, the money... But I wish I could say I enjoy this.

Strangely; to the utmost envy of every guy around me; I am not interested. I never have been. I can't really describe it, I feel so asexual. Sure, I have multi-gender friends but there's no-one that catches my eye. No-one that I admire. Everywhere around me, couples. Did you know that Paul is going out with Bethan? Unlucky David! Cheyrl was a beauty! I heard Dan kissed Charlotte on the weekend! The word 'love' is tossed around these days. It's so overused and used out-of-context but everyone continues to ravage at the word. Will 'love' ever become cliché? I have no use for love, and love doesn't have anything for me.

What? Two paragraphs and no introduction? Sorry. I like to rant. My name is Paul Whammy. Or, people call me 'Paul'. My real name is 'Saul' as in Saul from the Bible. My mother is ultra-religious (it seems that I am not, though). And I can owe my strange surname to my english "Father". Mum says he's english. I've never met him so I wouldn't know. Besides that family trivia, I am sixteen years old and am currently in Jesus Christ Emanuel Catholic School (Jay cecs). Well, I was in that school, but that's a different story. Where was I? Oh yes, end of school (I have gone hugely off topic...).

By the way, the 'Paul' that is going out with Bethan is a different Paul. There are two; me and him, and he’s an irritating mess...

It usually takes me about 40 minutes to walk home. I enjoy it. It gives me time to think. So I was walking on the county-house street (the most annoying part of the journey for reasons explained soon) and in the distance I spotted a group of five men, ranging from at least 17 to mid thirties. As I got closer I saw the cans of alcohol in their clumsy hands. The 17 year-old (looking) guy was smoking; as well as glugging relentlessly at the cheap booze in his left hand. They were loud. And unfortunately, on the same side of the street as me. I didn't cross the road. They soon spotted me, casually sauntering towards them. Their beady eyes feverishly dashed from me to their gang. They had that look about them. Damn my school. They saw the bright red-red emblem on my dark red blazer and knew. Jay cecs has a reputation for being weak and cowardly.

It seems like their supposed 'Leader' was sizing me up. I guess I look fairly average, but alcohol makes you "Invincible".

Since I had to speak to them, I mentally prepared myself for negotiating my way past five drunk men.

(2/3)

They looked like your average Lager-Louts. Shaven heads, tracksuit bottoms, old nike trainers and baggy plain T-shirts. One of them was sitting on a tiny black BMX bike (that looked sizeable for a ten-year-old) whilst holding one of the handlebars. Then I was staring at the 'Leader'. After three and a half seconds, communication.

"You got 20p mate?" he said to me, about a metre in front of him. We were standing still.
"No" I lied. I could see the gang sniggering and muttering.
"What, don't you trust me, mate?" the gang was laughing loudly, now; and getting louder. They were lapping this up.
"I wouldn't trust you with a toilet roll, if you knew what to do with it." The gang enjoyed this; not appearing to care for their 1.50m Leader, who was getting angry and advancing slowly.
"what, you startin'?" he yelled, his face scrunching up in expression and arms waving.

A smile spread across my face.
"Maybe" I replied.

The rest might as well've been in slow motion. He threw a punch at my face, putting his weight into it. My right arm swung up pushed his wild fist into the handle of a nearby car. He screamed in pain, his looked surprised. Leader decided that now was the best time to shout un-savoury taunts at me. My leg went up and collided with his ribcage. Did I hear a snap? But I didn't hear him again. I also didn't have to talk to the others; they got the message. Just a grin in their direction and I took off.

The world would be a better place with less of them around.

That little encounter took up about 5 minutes of my time. But it didn’t matter. I was about halfway to home, and about to enter my favourite part of the journey. The Woods.

I love this place. Now that I think about it, this place is one of the three places I can truly think, express myself and just feel free. Like no-one's watching you. Anyway, I walked through this forest and admired the sights (towering green trees, low shrubs starting to flower and little red-squirrels scampering across the dark brown floor) and smells (musty wood with wet leaves and fresh, fresh air). I would usually walk on the path through the trees and foliage. Well, it's not really a path, it's more like a route etched into the ground that branches off in a hundred different directions. Occasionally I took a new, un-explored path and got to see even more of this mysterious place. For some reason, I never got lost. I would always find my way back. The only time I got lost was that day. I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, and before I knew it; I was lost. I remember feeling that strange feeling of disorientation that comes with being lost. Calm down, Saul. Turn around and try again.

(3/4)

After about seven minutes I realised I was going in circles. I also realised there was a voice saying something. It was the same word, but I didn't understand it. The voice was seriously creeping me out. It was getting louder. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find out what it was. I followed to voice and it seemed like it was a girls'. After a minute I finally understood the word. Help.

I started to run, instinctively. I leapt over the fallen branches and mud-pits and dodged trees and then I saw the source of the noise. A girl, around my age, sitting down clutching her left ankle; which appeared to be bleeding. Another surprise got me as I saw she was wearing the same uniform I was. Dark red blazer, white blouse, knee-length grey-and-read checkered skirt and bright red 'Jay cecs' emblem.

She stopped speaking and gave a sniffy sigh of relief. She appeared to have been crying. I crouched down beside her and asked what had happened.
"I-I was walking through and I mus-must've tr-tripped on a br-branch" she said in a small, sad voice.
"can you move your toes?" I asked her, trying to be helpful. She tried to but there was no movement; and she slowly shook her head and cried a little more. "How long have you been here?"
"A-about fi-fifteen minutes" she sobbed, holding onto me. A strange warm feeling flooded me when she did this. Suddenly, I sobered up and returned to reality.
"O-Ok. Here, I'll carry you. It doesn't look like you can walk". I said to her; my hand trembling slightly. I picked her up and she curled into the fetal position into my chest. She was surprisingly light and I suddenly wasn't out of breath. But I then realised I was still busy being lost. I heard her giggle.

"Your lost, aren't you?" She said quietly. I opened my mouth but no words escaped. I gave up with a sigh.
"yes..."I muttered.
"It's Ok" she began "Just go straight ahead until you see a big fern-tree"
I did as she said and we exited the woods in no less than 3 seconds.

"Better call an ambulance" I said as I fumbled around for my phone.
"better" said the girl I had just saved.

A minute passed before she asked me
"What year are you in?" she asked whilst playing with her long black-brown curly hair.
"Year 11" I said, watching her looking at her ankle. She looked wide-eyed and said
"So am I!" came the cheerful voice next to me that seemed to have forgotten all about her injury.

The ambulance arrived just after that and the rest happened a little too fast.
She began to leave but then quickly asked me
"What is your name?" she said, getting into the vehicle.
"Paul, yours?" I quickly responded, wanting to hear her reply.
"Melissa" she said as the doors closed.

The ambulance drove away. Melissa, I thought. Melissa.

(4/4)

The next day of school was actually quite eventful, unlike yesterday. Kazuya was surprisingly energetic today (more than usual; which is saying something).
"Yo! Paul! Congrats man!" Kazuya shouted as we met.
"Wha-d'ya mean?" was my hasty reply. Kazuya looked surprised; then suddenly grinned a huge grin. He laughed before saying
"Lover-boy can't remember who he saved yesterday in the gloooomy woods!!", then he burst into more laughter.

Oh? "Who's Kazuya?" Right: Kazuya Yamamoto, year 11, age: 17, nationality: Japanese, speaks: english, japanese, chinese, korean, french, russian, polish, spanish... popularity: high, friend status: Best friend with Saul Whammy, build: athletic and thin, hair colour: bright white. Is that enough for now?

"How the hell do you know that?" I yelled, looking surprised as well now.
"Melissa's buddies told everyone! You know they're the gossip-girls!"
Damn Melissa, I didn't think you'd tell anyone... Well what did I expect? She's probably just as gossipy and annoying as her friends. Wait, I don't know that... she was giggly when I met her but I recognised her face. She transferred here about a month ago. But she was never that 'interactive'... she seemed quiet. Kazuya interrupted my thoughts.
"I bet you're thinking about her right now!" he said, inches from my face. Dammit! He got me!
"Not like that, baka!" I replied, slightly blushing.
"Don't get rude with me now, Paul!" he shouted back jokingly. The conversation stopped around there. Besides, I had GCSE P.E. to get to. I hope Melissa isn't there..., but I know a part of me wants her to.

So what do you think?? Pretty good if you ask me.

I like this

>jejune gray

No

>pallid luster

Use pale.

Critique this:
>Fanny dropped the paper. Her first impression was that of pain in her belly and her knees, then, that of blind guilt, of irreality, of cold, of fear; then, she already wanted to exist in the next day. Immediately after she understood the desire was useless, for her father's death was the only thing to had happened in the world, and will endlessly continue to happen. She picked the paper up and went to her room.