Young Writers Society

Deleted for re-write.
Can be found under the new title of Broken But Not Crushed!
~day

Corrections are in red. But you probably figured that out.

Having noticed my father's markedly better spirits I decided to tell him my news. His face lit up and a large grin spread over his face erasing the deep worry wrinkles for at least the immediate present. He congratulated me and my mother did so as well once again. I basked in their warm praise. Why don't you show us this happening, instead of telling us.

''When are you to start?,'' my father asked.

''The letter didn't really say, it only told me to arrive at the theater where they preform, tomorrow if I could make it,'' I replied.

''What time?''

''Noon.''

My father held up a finger and turned his attention to his vest pocket where he commenced to pull forth a small handful of coins and hand to my mother who passed them to me. Why not just have him hand them directly to her? How big is the table, especially if only three people are sitting at it?

''For the bus fare,'' he said with a smile.

''Thank you Father,'' I said with appreciation, knowing full well that money was tight in our family at the present. If money is tight, why are her parents going to a concert?

He waved his hand in dismissal and excused himself from the table. Why is dinner over so soon? Did they even eat. Meal times are such a great time to allow us to get to know your characters more, don't skip over this scene. He headed for the stairs and his wardrobe to prepare for the concert he had planned to take my mother to.

My mother stayed for a bit to help me straighten the kitchen and then went upstairs as well to join my father. As I washed the dinner dishes I could hear them laughing and talking together. When the taxi arrived at the front door, I draped the damp dishtowel over the clean dishes to dry and ascended the stairs to tell them.

As I approached, their door which was slightly ajar. I heard my father whisper something inaudible to my mother, who gave a small giggle. I peered through the crack in the door and saw my mother standing in front of the wall mirror with my father behind her placing a string of pearls around her slender neck. They were the only piece of jewelry my mother had left and my father refused to let her sell them. Once he had attached the clasp, he slid his arms around her waist and spun her to face him. My mother smiled and placed a kiss on his lips. I love this private look into her parent's relationship. Blushing I turned away and waited for a few seconds before I turned back to the door and knocked lightly.

My mother answered the door, her eyes sparkling. What color are her eyes?

''The taxi's here Mother,'' I told her.

''Thank you darling,'' she replied and turned to inform my father who appeared at the doorway as well looking as dashing as a young beau in a well-worn yet carefully maintained suit that perfectly fit his tall frame. This is a horribly run-on sentence, please make it two sentences. Thank you for the brief description of her father's appearance. He extended his elbow to my mother, every bit the perfect gentleman and escorted her down the stairs. My father helped my mother into her coat and slid his own over his arm before turning back to me.

''We won't be back until late, you'll be alright?,'' he asked. No comma.

''I'll be fine Father, go have a good time,'' I replied reassuringly and shooed them out the door. I really don't like the shooing. It makes her seem like the adult and they the children.

Once they were gone I didn't know what to do with myself. I listened to the radio for a bit but the broadcast kept being interrupted by Hitler making speeches or the obnoxious crackle of static so I finally turned it off. Can you go into more detail about Hitler's speeches? This is critical information that shouldn't be skimmed over. I climbed the stairs to my own room and practiced the cello instead until my fingers ached and my eyelids drooped with fatigue.

I finally went to bed, filled with anticipation for the morning to come.



When I awoke the following day my nose was filled with the delicious smell of cheese blintzes. Because of the war and the rationing I had not had one in over a year. I followed the scent to the kitchen where my mother was standing over a frying pan on the stove. Next to her on the counter was a small plate of steaming blintzes. I inhaled deeply and made a move to sneak one before she noticed. But I wasn't fast enough. Laughing, she smacked the back of my hand with her spatula.

''Can't you wait until I'm finished?,'' she scolded lightly.

''Nope,'' I replied and snatched one before she could stop me.

She threw up her hands in defeat.

''Oh well, I made them for you anyhow, for your special day.''

''Thank you Mama,'' I mumbled, my mouth full of blintze.

''Yes yes, you'd better go and get ready,'' she warned me.

Glancing at the clock over the stove my eyes widened. I did an about face and dashed for the stairs. I took particular care that morning with my appearance. I fussed over my hair and which dress to wear. Can you go into a little more detail? How many dresses did she try on? What does the dress look like that she does decide to wear? How does she style her hair? Does she wear any cosmetics or perfume? These minute details are what make a story feel real. Lastly I packed my cello and bow safely into it's case.

My mother was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs with my coat.

''Hurry Anetke, you'll miss the bus!,'' she exclaimed.

I gave her an excited grin and a peck on the cheek before hastening out the door and down to the corner bus stop.



Where is the conflict?! You've posted three segments, and not a single exciting event has occurred. We need some drama here! For being in the middle of a major war, life seems pretty good for little Anetke.

My other major concern is the economic status of these people. Are they wealthy? Middle class? Poor? I am a little confused. The mother has nice clothes, the daughter has a new cello and they are able to afford taxis and concerts. Yet they can't afford a bus fare and the mother only has one piece of jewelry left? Can you understand my confusion. Decide where they stand finacially and then stick with it, at least for now. Maybe as the story progresses and the war along with it, they can progressively lose their wealth. But we need consistency here.

Please PM me when you have more posted!