Post by bloodedyautja on Sept 23, 2007 6:52:03 GMT -5
ok so I'm having to do this story in english for one of my GCSE's and its not even halfway through but seeing as I'm attempting to get my predicted A* I'm wanting a few comments or views of it. mostly because its based around a gang sort of story. and my normal story area is horror or suspense so I don't really know how good it is. aswell I'm writing as a male character which is a first in any of my stories but ya get extra marks for things like that. and also a time jump makes it mroe complicated anyway here it is.
English Story (GCSE work)= Shot Down, by life
May 25th 2005
In my sleep, my dreams, my nightmares, plague me. God, Jennie, how could I have done that to her?
6 months I’ve been in prison. Its given me time to wonder, time to realise, time to think of a solution…….to my life.
6 months, 6 floors, 6 sections. Funny how my life seems to have gone to hell. Makes me wonder what I put her through. I think a lot about my past, my Dad, my Mum but now I’m sure. I, was in the wrong, she never did anything, I should never have done it. I know now that you can’t change the past, no matter how sorry you are. But I can try and mend what I’ve done.
November 12th 2004
“K? Hey K?” Its Jess trying to wake me up. I’m lying on my back it’s obviously day from the sun that’s bursting on to my face. “Get the hell up man!” he sounds kinder angry not surprising seeing the party last night. He always gets the worst hangovers. He gives me a shove and I raise my hands in defence “Alright, alright I’m up” I hear him walk off and lie still for a second, something’s different, opening my eyes I see there’s no-one around. Strange, normally at least 5 people are wandering around after a party, normally from passing out or being to drunk to drive home. The thoughts hardly a worry, everyone’s left and Jess being my best mate obviously let me sleep.
Getting up I make my way to the bathroom stumbling twice from nausea. Turning on the tap I look in the mirror as I let the water warm up. Nothing special to the gangs round here. 24 year old black male, 5ft 11, muscled arms and cornrows which are in need of a re-do when I have the money. But under that you can see the weakness of my skin on my face, the weakness lying just under the muscles and skin and the constantly over dilated pupils, a result of almost a decade on crack, and I still can’t break the habit. Jess found out when I was 19, he didn’t turn me over to the cops but he didn’t agree with it, still doesn’t. He ain’t crew but he knows a lot through me, the gangs don’t like it, people on the outside don’t have inside information the only reason he hasn’t been taken out is he’s been like a brother to me since we were 5.
I dry my face on a towel and head to Jess’ room to grab a shirt, he doesn’t mind lending me one after a party. Glancing around I see the well made bed, the sunlight filtering through the expensive blinds, the more expensive furniture and some photos of him, his wife Denise and his daughter Jasmine, 2 years old in a month. Just looking at the smiling faces I feel unhappy. One of the effects of drugs, infertility. I always regret that I can’t give my wife the child she wants.
Shaking off the sudden sadness I slip the shirt on and head to the kitchen. Strangely I don’t bump into Jess on the way. It’s a large flat but it’s a bit hard to avoid someone here, I guess he’s just gone to the bathroom.
I head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee to help clear my head of the hangover but I know its not what’s going to stop the nagging in my head. I flick the kettle on and reach for a cup, my hand shakes violently as I put the cup on the counter. I’m briefly confused normally I can take a night with out a fix, but so long on the hard stuff and my reliance increased, sometimes I could go a day on one fix, others, I needed several and spent the day in a comatose state. Letting the high take me.
Waiting for the kettle to boil I spoon in coffee and sugar into the cup, reaching for the milk my hand freezes, there’s a silhouette reflected in the kettle. Its not the person that makes me freeze but the posture of the person. I turn to see Jess standing in the doorway arms folded across his chest. His face is completely empty save for a small touch of anger, or it could be pain. I can’t tell whilst I’m in this state even if he’s my best mate.
“So your up then?” it’s a normal statement but the look and tone-that slips into the attempted neutral voice-is not.
“Yer,” not knowing what’s up with him I’m cautious “any reason why I shouldn’t?” I’m trying to keep my voice calm but something is nagging at me and this time its my own mind. What had got him in this state? I want to know but I don’t want to get him pissed off, I’d seen him fight, street kid or not I’d lose to him. He was natural muscle as a kid but weight training made him seriously intimidating as man. He would have been great in street fights but he was an east side kid, the ‘good’ side of the city he wasn’t brought up like that.
The silence seems to stretch for ever when suddenly the mask he’d been showing collapsed to show complete rage.
“Can’t you even remember?!” he shouted.
“Re..remember what?” I stuttered. But something hits home I couldn’t remember the party only that there was one, quickly I focus-like my therapist said- try to think about snippets of reality if I’d had drugs. I come up blank. Looking at the clock I see its 10 o’clock.10……..people should be here at this time, where is everyone. Suddenly I feel nauseous, I can see Jess’ mouth moving but there’s no sound just a roaring in my head. I can’t remember a damn thing from the past 2 days. I go to grasp the counter and miss, I fall forwards, the ground rushes up to me. Darkness.
English Story (GCSE work)= Shot Down, by life
May 25th 2005
In my sleep, my dreams, my nightmares, plague me. God, Jennie, how could I have done that to her?
6 months I’ve been in prison. Its given me time to wonder, time to realise, time to think of a solution…….to my life.
6 months, 6 floors, 6 sections. Funny how my life seems to have gone to hell. Makes me wonder what I put her through. I think a lot about my past, my Dad, my Mum but now I’m sure. I, was in the wrong, she never did anything, I should never have done it. I know now that you can’t change the past, no matter how sorry you are. But I can try and mend what I’ve done.
November 12th 2004
“K? Hey K?” Its Jess trying to wake me up. I’m lying on my back it’s obviously day from the sun that’s bursting on to my face. “Get the hell up man!” he sounds kinder angry not surprising seeing the party last night. He always gets the worst hangovers. He gives me a shove and I raise my hands in defence “Alright, alright I’m up” I hear him walk off and lie still for a second, something’s different, opening my eyes I see there’s no-one around. Strange, normally at least 5 people are wandering around after a party, normally from passing out or being to drunk to drive home. The thoughts hardly a worry, everyone’s left and Jess being my best mate obviously let me sleep.
Getting up I make my way to the bathroom stumbling twice from nausea. Turning on the tap I look in the mirror as I let the water warm up. Nothing special to the gangs round here. 24 year old black male, 5ft 11, muscled arms and cornrows which are in need of a re-do when I have the money. But under that you can see the weakness of my skin on my face, the weakness lying just under the muscles and skin and the constantly over dilated pupils, a result of almost a decade on crack, and I still can’t break the habit. Jess found out when I was 19, he didn’t turn me over to the cops but he didn’t agree with it, still doesn’t. He ain’t crew but he knows a lot through me, the gangs don’t like it, people on the outside don’t have inside information the only reason he hasn’t been taken out is he’s been like a brother to me since we were 5.
I dry my face on a towel and head to Jess’ room to grab a shirt, he doesn’t mind lending me one after a party. Glancing around I see the well made bed, the sunlight filtering through the expensive blinds, the more expensive furniture and some photos of him, his wife Denise and his daughter Jasmine, 2 years old in a month. Just looking at the smiling faces I feel unhappy. One of the effects of drugs, infertility. I always regret that I can’t give my wife the child she wants.
Shaking off the sudden sadness I slip the shirt on and head to the kitchen. Strangely I don’t bump into Jess on the way. It’s a large flat but it’s a bit hard to avoid someone here, I guess he’s just gone to the bathroom.
I head to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee to help clear my head of the hangover but I know its not what’s going to stop the nagging in my head. I flick the kettle on and reach for a cup, my hand shakes violently as I put the cup on the counter. I’m briefly confused normally I can take a night with out a fix, but so long on the hard stuff and my reliance increased, sometimes I could go a day on one fix, others, I needed several and spent the day in a comatose state. Letting the high take me.
Waiting for the kettle to boil I spoon in coffee and sugar into the cup, reaching for the milk my hand freezes, there’s a silhouette reflected in the kettle. Its not the person that makes me freeze but the posture of the person. I turn to see Jess standing in the doorway arms folded across his chest. His face is completely empty save for a small touch of anger, or it could be pain. I can’t tell whilst I’m in this state even if he’s my best mate.
“So your up then?” it’s a normal statement but the look and tone-that slips into the attempted neutral voice-is not.
“Yer,” not knowing what’s up with him I’m cautious “any reason why I shouldn’t?” I’m trying to keep my voice calm but something is nagging at me and this time its my own mind. What had got him in this state? I want to know but I don’t want to get him pissed off, I’d seen him fight, street kid or not I’d lose to him. He was natural muscle as a kid but weight training made him seriously intimidating as man. He would have been great in street fights but he was an east side kid, the ‘good’ side of the city he wasn’t brought up like that.
The silence seems to stretch for ever when suddenly the mask he’d been showing collapsed to show complete rage.
“Can’t you even remember?!” he shouted.
“Re..remember what?” I stuttered. But something hits home I couldn’t remember the party only that there was one, quickly I focus-like my therapist said- try to think about snippets of reality if I’d had drugs. I come up blank. Looking at the clock I see its 10 o’clock.10……..people should be here at this time, where is everyone. Suddenly I feel nauseous, I can see Jess’ mouth moving but there’s no sound just a roaring in my head. I can’t remember a damn thing from the past 2 days. I go to grasp the counter and miss, I fall forwards, the ground rushes up to me. Darkness.
