Hi guys,
I was curious for random people to see what they think about my first chapter in my short story. Please leave me brutally honest responses, and opinions on how I can spice it up.
Thank you!
GEORGIA - CHAPTER I
“Georgia, you’ll be late for school,” was all I kept hearing for about ten minutes before the voice got louder. I knew that voice, I knew exactly whose voice that was, but my brain wasn’t giving me the clear message. I don’t know why I overslept; usually, I get up before my brother, Jack, gets up to have some time alone to myself before going to the devils house, or should I call it school. “Georgia! Get up!” My eyes immediately opened, and I actually was startled. As soon as my vision appeared clear I could have seen my brothers disturbing face. “Dude, seriously you should invest in some acne cream or something,” I said in a low scratchy voice. “Hey, at least I can fix my acne problem, but you can’t fix being mentally retarded,” he said laughing approaching the mirror to stare at his hideous face “yep, you’re going to be a mentally retarded freak forever.” He continued as he walked out of my room. I used to get peeved whenever he used to call me a mentally retarded freak. It wasn’t my fault that I was exposed to toxic chemicals at a young age that must have messed up my brain or something. I didn’t grow up with a mother; she died after giving birth to me, so it wasn’t like someone was looking after me the whole time… I mean not as much as a mother would look after her young. You can’t compare a mother’s love to anybody else’s… well; at least that’s how they describe it in the books I’ve read. Every time I would hear the word “mother” I would literally get this stabbing pain in my chest, and I wouldn’t know why. I still get this throbbing uncontrollable pain whenever I hear that word… I can’t say the word out loud. Anytime a person would ask me what had happened to my mother, I’d just avoid the question because I actually don’t know how she died. All I know is that she died after giving birth to me, but the reason is still unknown… to me at least. My brother knew my mother for five years before she died, but neither he nor my dad likes to talk about her or her about death. My father on the other hand wasn’t always there for me. It’s not that he didn’t want to be, but he worked 12-hour shifts each day and sometimes even overtime if he could just to provide us food and shelter. This routine continued on even during Holidays - like Christmas, and Thanksgiving. There was even sometimes where I didn’t even eat dinner. Me and Jack would eat the candy we used to save from past Halloween festivities – even if they were years old. That’s probably another reason why I may have problems in my brain – because of the lack of nutrients I was supposed to consume as a child. Luckily, now I take those one-a-day vitamin things. It was 6:40AM as soon as I finished brushing my teeth. I rushed down stairs wanting to confront my brother why he woke me up so early, but he had already left for school. For some reason the kitchen window was left open, and it made the room feel quite cool – about ten degrees cooler than what it’s supposed to feel like. My dad is quite overweighed; usually, he feels warmer than normal, even when the house is cool. So every morning he’d open up the window until he leaves for work, but would always forget to close it afterwards. It was a crisp November Fall day in ______, _________ (help me find an extremely small town where in November is cold, and where people have a country accent); sunny with calm winds, I could have felt as it were maybe 50F. As soon as I finished eating my cereal I washed, and dried the bowl and spoon. Then, I went to change my clothes and get ready for school. It was much cooler than I’d predicted as I waited for the bus to come pick me up. I then decided to go back to the house real quick to pick up my heavier sweater. I could have sworn that I took less than two minutes to go, and come back but as I was walking down my long drive way I could have seen the bus pass my house. “Shoot!” I said loudly, almost as I was shouting. Now I had no choice but to walk to school. As I walked to school I kept asking myself,”Why am I even going to school?” It’s not like it’s really putting any sense into my brain. I seem to study so hard, but still struggle to maintain that C average. Maybe if I found a cute guy to tutor me, then maybe that’d be a whole different story, and I could get better grades. All my teachers speak with this weird accent that makes it harder for me to understand what they’re talking about. They speak real fast, and whenever they call my name to answer a question my knees start to shake, I start to bite my lip and then I fail at answering the question. It's weird because where I live everybody has that accent except for me. As I was thinking about my teachers, a random reflection of my brother hit my head with the words of, “You’re a mentally r
“You’re a mentally retarded freak with an IQ of 40. You’ll never become a vet. Never!” That word “never” repeated itself in my head for about ten times before I realized I almost bumped into a stop sign. I’ve always loved animals; even at a young age. I love them so much that it actually does hurt. It hurts because I’m an Omnivore; I’m guilty to say that I eat organic foods, and I eat meat products. I may sound hypocritical, but I’m working on avoiding eating meat at all cost. As I thought of what I just said, an image appeared in my head of a man slaughtering a cow. I felt dizzy, so I decided to sit down for awhile on the sidewalk until that destructive image escaped my head. As I sat I kept thinking of what my brother said. I may have an IQ of 62, but at times I still feel smarter than my brother with an IQ of 120. I may not be the brightest light bulb in a basement, but I am brighter than my brother. As I got up from the side walk I continued on walking to school. My brain was stil
My brain was still repeating the word “never” and then it was merged with “failure” and then it was merged with a man slaughtering a cow. It was almost as I could hear screaming, and yelling in my own head. The words were getting louder and the image was getting clearer, and the cow was starting to yelp for help. I couldn’t do anything to save the cow. The slaughterer was now looking at me; he was looking at me right into my eyes. I was trying to find a soul through that man’s eyes, but all I could see was darkness. All I could see was hate. All I could see was… a man killing this animal. That image, and those words “never” and “failure” kept repeating in my head over, and over, and over again. The next thing I know, my brain was shutting down…
I was curious for random people to see what they think about my first chapter in my short story. Please leave me brutally honest responses, and opinions on how I can spice it up.
Thank you!
GEORGIA - CHAPTER I
“Georgia, you’ll be late for school,” was all I kept hearing for about ten minutes before the voice got louder. I knew that voice, I knew exactly whose voice that was, but my brain wasn’t giving me the clear message. I don’t know why I overslept; usually, I get up before my brother, Jack, gets up to have some time alone to myself before going to the devils house, or should I call it school. “Georgia! Get up!” My eyes immediately opened, and I actually was startled. As soon as my vision appeared clear I could have seen my brothers disturbing face. “Dude, seriously you should invest in some acne cream or something,” I said in a low scratchy voice. “Hey, at least I can fix my acne problem, but you can’t fix being mentally retarded,” he said laughing approaching the mirror to stare at his hideous face “yep, you’re going to be a mentally retarded freak forever.” He continued as he walked out of my room. I used to get peeved whenever he used to call me a mentally retarded freak. It wasn’t my fault that I was exposed to toxic chemicals at a young age that must have messed up my brain or something. I didn’t grow up with a mother; she died after giving birth to me, so it wasn’t like someone was looking after me the whole time… I mean not as much as a mother would look after her young. You can’t compare a mother’s love to anybody else’s… well; at least that’s how they describe it in the books I’ve read. Every time I would hear the word “mother” I would literally get this stabbing pain in my chest, and I wouldn’t know why. I still get this throbbing uncontrollable pain whenever I hear that word… I can’t say the word out loud. Anytime a person would ask me what had happened to my mother, I’d just avoid the question because I actually don’t know how she died. All I know is that she died after giving birth to me, but the reason is still unknown… to me at least. My brother knew my mother for five years before she died, but neither he nor my dad likes to talk about her or her about death. My father on the other hand wasn’t always there for me. It’s not that he didn’t want to be, but he worked 12-hour shifts each day and sometimes even overtime if he could just to provide us food and shelter. This routine continued on even during Holidays - like Christmas, and Thanksgiving. There was even sometimes where I didn’t even eat dinner. Me and Jack would eat the candy we used to save from past Halloween festivities – even if they were years old. That’s probably another reason why I may have problems in my brain – because of the lack of nutrients I was supposed to consume as a child. Luckily, now I take those one-a-day vitamin things. It was 6:40AM as soon as I finished brushing my teeth. I rushed down stairs wanting to confront my brother why he woke me up so early, but he had already left for school. For some reason the kitchen window was left open, and it made the room feel quite cool – about ten degrees cooler than what it’s supposed to feel like. My dad is quite overweighed; usually, he feels warmer than normal, even when the house is cool. So every morning he’d open up the window until he leaves for work, but would always forget to close it afterwards. It was a crisp November Fall day in ______, _________ (help me find an extremely small town where in November is cold, and where people have a country accent); sunny with calm winds, I could have felt as it were maybe 50F. As soon as I finished eating my cereal I washed, and dried the bowl and spoon. Then, I went to change my clothes and get ready for school. It was much cooler than I’d predicted as I waited for the bus to come pick me up. I then decided to go back to the house real quick to pick up my heavier sweater. I could have sworn that I took less than two minutes to go, and come back but as I was walking down my long drive way I could have seen the bus pass my house. “Shoot!” I said loudly, almost as I was shouting. Now I had no choice but to walk to school. As I walked to school I kept asking myself,”Why am I even going to school?” It’s not like it’s really putting any sense into my brain. I seem to study so hard, but still struggle to maintain that C average. Maybe if I found a cute guy to tutor me, then maybe that’d be a whole different story, and I could get better grades. All my teachers speak with this weird accent that makes it harder for me to understand what they’re talking about. They speak real fast, and whenever they call my name to answer a question my knees start to shake, I start to bite my lip and then I fail at answering the question. It's weird because where I live everybody has that accent except for me. As I was thinking about my teachers, a random reflection of my brother hit my head with the words of, “You’re a mentally r
“You’re a mentally retarded freak with an IQ of 40. You’ll never become a vet. Never!” That word “never” repeated itself in my head for about ten times before I realized I almost bumped into a stop sign. I’ve always loved animals; even at a young age. I love them so much that it actually does hurt. It hurts because I’m an Omnivore; I’m guilty to say that I eat organic foods, and I eat meat products. I may sound hypocritical, but I’m working on avoiding eating meat at all cost. As I thought of what I just said, an image appeared in my head of a man slaughtering a cow. I felt dizzy, so I decided to sit down for awhile on the sidewalk until that destructive image escaped my head. As I sat I kept thinking of what my brother said. I may have an IQ of 62, but at times I still feel smarter than my brother with an IQ of 120. I may not be the brightest light bulb in a basement, but I am brighter than my brother. As I got up from the side walk I continued on walking to school. My brain was stil
My brain was still repeating the word “never” and then it was merged with “failure” and then it was merged with a man slaughtering a cow. It was almost as I could hear screaming, and yelling in my own head. The words were getting louder and the image was getting clearer, and the cow was starting to yelp for help. I couldn’t do anything to save the cow. The slaughterer was now looking at me; he was looking at me right into my eyes. I was trying to find a soul through that man’s eyes, but all I could see was darkness. All I could see was hate. All I could see was… a man killing this animal. That image, and those words “never” and “failure” kept repeating in my head over, and over, and over again. The next thing I know, my brain was shutting down…