I mean how can i make my writing more graping and fun to read. Here's a piece of my natural, unedited writing style.
I stood in the middle of the living room. My heart was throbbing harder with every passing moment. I wished that everything would end soon. My mother was sitting beside me on the sofa, her head leaning to her left shoulder. The TV was flashing on the wooden table.
“mamma” I said “when will dad come?”
“I don’t know boy” mamma said “just wait. He might have missed the bus as usual”
“Can you just tell him” I walked to the sofa and sat at her legs ‘please mamma. He loves you and he’ll accept your words”. I was lying. Daddy loved no one, even himself.
Mamma looked regrettably at me. “Loves me ‘she smiled ironically “you tell him what you want, don’t bring me in your stupid stories with him.”
I looked away. How she says so. I wanted to take violin lessons. I love music. Music was my life, how can she ridicule me this way.
Sometimes I though that mother was the only person that understood, felt, and even loved me. But it seems that I was deceived for the second time this week.
Last Sunday that boy named Khalid at school seemed to like me. I went to him and we talked. He said that I can join him to go to the cinema, but he never came. I waited for hours after struggling to take the twenty le from mother, but my effort was spilled on the ground. No one likes me, I thought as I went back home.
‘mother please” I kissed her pale, soap smelling hand “tell father that I wish to take violin lessons.’
She glared at me, and walked to the TV, shutting it off. ‘I‘ll sleep. Make sure that you lock the door after your father comes in”.
She strolled half awake to her room, and I sat down by the door waiting for father.
I slept, and I dreamed. I found myself flying over a long building. My father and mother stood at a lower window. I flied towards them smiling, but suddenly they started thrashing me with red rocks. I screamed and fell. I kept on falling, my heart throbbed hard, but I knew I was dreaming. I know it wasn’t real.
I opened my eyes. Sweat trickled down my face. It was hot in the doorway. The grey fan at the end of the doorway was off. Father ordered mother not to open it more than three hours a day.
I stood in the middle of the living room. My heart was throbbing harder with every passing moment. I wished that everything would end soon. My mother was sitting beside me on the sofa, her head leaning to her left shoulder. The TV was flashing on the wooden table.
“mamma” I said “when will dad come?”
“I don’t know boy” mamma said “just wait. He might have missed the bus as usual”
“Can you just tell him” I walked to the sofa and sat at her legs ‘please mamma. He loves you and he’ll accept your words”. I was lying. Daddy loved no one, even himself.
Mamma looked regrettably at me. “Loves me ‘she smiled ironically “you tell him what you want, don’t bring me in your stupid stories with him.”
I looked away. How she says so. I wanted to take violin lessons. I love music. Music was my life, how can she ridicule me this way.
Sometimes I though that mother was the only person that understood, felt, and even loved me. But it seems that I was deceived for the second time this week.
Last Sunday that boy named Khalid at school seemed to like me. I went to him and we talked. He said that I can join him to go to the cinema, but he never came. I waited for hours after struggling to take the twenty le from mother, but my effort was spilled on the ground. No one likes me, I thought as I went back home.
‘mother please” I kissed her pale, soap smelling hand “tell father that I wish to take violin lessons.’
She glared at me, and walked to the TV, shutting it off. ‘I‘ll sleep. Make sure that you lock the door after your father comes in”.
She strolled half awake to her room, and I sat down by the door waiting for father.
I slept, and I dreamed. I found myself flying over a long building. My father and mother stood at a lower window. I flied towards them smiling, but suddenly they started thrashing me with red rocks. I screamed and fell. I kept on falling, my heart throbbed hard, but I knew I was dreaming. I know it wasn’t real.
I opened my eyes. Sweat trickled down my face. It was hot in the doorway. The grey fan at the end of the doorway was off. Father ordered mother not to open it more than three hours a day.