Young Writers Society

Hey, this is my first story on here so don't be too harsh. Obviously I want creative criticism but I hope at least one person likes it. I am mainly looking for advice on how to improve it.
Thank you.


Blood-soaked and almost lifeless, the girl slowly dragged her unwilling body out of the debris.

Breathing heavily, she forced her body up, her legs and arms dangling pathetically - giving her the look of a tarnished rag doll. She tasted the sickly taste of blood swilling in her mouth. The tears streaming down her scarred face, she stared at the carnage that lay around her. Below her, the corpse of a young woman lay, her head a few metres way. A wave of nausea washed over her, her heart was somewhere by her toes, and she noticed her straggly hazel hair was now stained with vomit and blood. Staggering, she made her way to the gates of the park, slowly trying to put the pieces together of what had been such an awful, awful day…..



“Big Brother’s watching,” Athlea muttered mindlessly, playfully caressing the tattered copy of 1984 that rested on her lap.
“What you on about?” Roka exclaimed, causing the content of his mouth (lemonade and a cheese sandwich) to shoot into the air in a grotesque firework display and land with a distinctive squelch on his gleaming trainers.
“Yuck, you pig, how old are you?” Athlea turned away from the book (for only a moment) to observe the mass of saliva and lunch that Roka was flicking away with his hand, embarrassed , before burrowing her head amidst the pages yet again.
Grudgingly wiping the stains from his once sparkling trainers, Roka glanced at the book (who still read books?) that his sister was flicking through anxiously.
She sat, cross legged on the bench, bent over like an old man and her straggly hazel hair burying her face. She stared open mouthed , looking bemused and yet enthralled at the same time.
Her nimble fingers flicked the pages in a flurry, her head growing ever closer to the book the further she read, as if it were about to engulf her at any moment.
Roka stared curiously at his baby sister, wondering how simply an array of clever-sounding words and the occasional smart-alec anecdote could invade someone’s mind in such a way it made them almost alien to their surroundings. Roka was convinced a bomb could have dropped in New Caverns Park that day, and Athlea would not even have looked up- perhaps to mutter a slight “Hmmm…how very odd.” before returning to her book without hesitation.
“1984? That’s ancient!!” Roka said, eyeing the book curiously “A thousand years old! What is it - a history book?”
“No, it’s fiction. George Orwell’s idea of what the year 1984 could be like,” She explained, without taking her eyes off the book “Fascinating, actually”
Uninterested, Roka’s wandering eye began to waver to a group of girls who lay sunbathing by the lake. But excited by Roka’s intrigue Athlea began to retell the plot, only for it to burst from her mouth in a pot of mumbles and excited whispers - almost inaudible by the distracted Roka.
“Andinroom101yourgreatestfearwaitsanbiogbrotherswathcing so” She ranted on, her eyes glowing with excitement: Well, in chapter 4 there…ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!”
Athlea’s body slumped off the bench and her body hit the floor with a deafening crack. Athlea felt as if her head were being crushed together. Like her brain was being stretched and pulled and ripped. Her eyes felt as if they could explode and fire burned in her throat. All she saw was Roka leaning over her, his face contorted and his words nothing but ghostly whispers.
It was happening again.
It had all started a few months ago, and now it had become weekly. The crushing headache, the temperature soaring, Athlea thought every time that it was her last. She could see visions in her mind, taunting her and screaming in her face.
Athlea saw Roka pulling a bottle of pills from somewhere and pouring them into her mouth. She gurgled like an infant, and then the pain began to ease.
Pulling herself up, she sat on the bench and began to weep.
“How are you?” Roka asked, his face’s complexion matching the vanilla ice-cream that had dropped to the floor seconds before.
“I thought I was going to die,” She sobbed “It’s awful. But it only happened when..”
Athela paused. Her eyes scanned around them. She nodded at a woman who appeared to be picking apples.
“Look,” She said, her eyes staring deep into Roka’s “I have something to tell you.”
And as and Roka began their quiet, life-threatening conversation, a small unnoticeable flower below them, slowly rotated to face them. Then, a miniscule click could be heard and the flower slyly extended. Slowly but certainly, its authentic stalk extended until the amber petals brushed below the bench. It did a 360 degree spin and then all was ready - the recording had begun.
“It’s a possibility though, isn’t it?” Athlea enquired, finally shoving her book in the badge-swamped rucksack that rested against her leg. “When you think about it…?”
It took a few minutes (and a sharp poke in the ribs) before Roka would grudgingly respond.
“No, it‘s rubbish!” He snapped, flicking his hands in dismissal and gave a superior snort that caused Athela’s fists to clench “What? Us being controlled, I don’t think so!!”
“No!” Athlea cried, exasperated. “I mean us being watched. In fact when you think about it, it’s quite a possibility. I’ve noticed things. And dad, dad always said..”
“Oh, don’t start about Dad!” Roka shot back suddenly, with an unfamiliar angry voice. “We all know his death was accidental! Stop bringing it up!!”
Never to be defeated , Athlea determinedly continued her rant:
“I mean, if I’m honest, this idea has been on my mind for awhile. Dad may have been right, and I’ve noticed some other things too. Perhaps, this isn’t the right time, but I’ve met people. And they believe what dad said too. We…”
As Athela quietly continued her debate, the flower below was now taller than ever and spinning around, recording every letter that poured from her mouth. The recording was then sent through cascades of wires and cables, so ingeniously small they were undetectable.. Those wires would’ve connected to the mainframe which was then sent to a secret building, about 123m under ground where Athela and Roka were sat. The wire then was plugged up to a tv screen along with an array of other cameras, all recording normal, pleasant conversations.
The youth that sat, observing every monitor was around twenty five, and his eyes were blood red as he stared at the screens around him, his tongue poking out through concentration. He was scrawny and pale, and had clean-cut blonde hair with a squint fridge. His large glasses magnified his eyes, and made his other features look minute compared to his towering eyes . His lips seemed to droop and his face was almost lifeless, as if any joy he had ever felt had been vacuumed from his soul. He typed occasionally, his fingers often clumsily pressing the wrong letter, for him to curse quietly, with a satisfied grin of mischief on his face - like a child who’s just cheeked the teacher. There was something about this man which made him unforgettable, and for a few people he would be.
“It’s a possibility though isn’t it?”
Athlea’s impeccable accent flowed through the screen and soon the images of the two teens were on the monitor, chatting happily in the ironically sun-laden New Cavern Park.
Instantly, the man was alerted to the conversations. As it continued, he felt suddenly sick and could swear he felt his heart stop for a few seconds.
This was it.
Speaking into his microphone, he uttered:
“We have a code amber-red, I repeat amber red. We have a suspicion and possibly more evidence. Talks of a group and a missing father. Could it be Paulo’s kids?!
There was a silence on the other end, before footsteps could be heard, racing up to him in a hurry to calm the situation. There was as expectation for a crowd of aggressive thugs to burst through the doors, but to everyone’s surprise one middle- aged man in a classy suit strode confidently through the door, and after dismissing the other workers approached our friend, with an icy smile.
The man (let’s call him Fred) was by now quivering, the sweat tricking down his forehead.
He gasped with angst at the man’s eyes, which he could only describe as demonic. They were huge, and Fred felt as if they were burning holes through his skin. His smile was equally as fake, gleaming white and with a crocodile quality to them - Fred was waiting for the “snap”.
“Good man, he said suddenly, causing Fred to jump “This is good, this girl obviously has suspicions and we have located her “group”. I hate to say this, but it’s time to drop the Mtertram.T12.”
“No way!” Fred cried, overwhelmed by his own dismay “We can’t! So what if the girl does, there are at least 50 people around her who’ll die too!”
The boss’s smile faded fast.
“That’s life,” He replied, with no hint of remorse in his voice “We can’t have people knowing, and I have a feeling that other members are around. People are getting more suspicious of us now, we can’t take any risks! And if she is Paulo’s daughter..”
“But-” Fred began, but stopped, realizing he was fighting a lost battle. He gulped and hung his head.
The boss sighed, and then spoke into his microphone.

*********

“Some of the gang members are here,” Athlea whispered, glancing around “We’ve planned it. Look, I don‘t want to say too much”
Roka suddenly raised a finger to his sister’s lips, the grounds of the park began to shake. Trees quivered and ripples were seen in the lake. Athlea raised an eyebrow inquisitively:
“What the…?”
And then it happened.
The bomb exploded, throwing Athlea and Roka into the air and crashing into a tree. Smoke swirled in the air .The park transformed from lush green to blood red in seconds. People burst into a million pieces, trees were thrown like matchsticks and blood splattered everywhere. There were cries and moans, coughs and splutters, desperate shrieks of “HELP!”. The death was everywhere, corpses slumped in the now crimson lake, and the stench of vomit hung in the air.

Ten seconds later, and the girl stood there again, still witnessing the carnage around her. She heard police sirens in the distance and a few figures were now crawling out of the wreckage. She didn’t care though, her mind was reeling. She tried to put the pieces together, something was starting to fit. Almost…the wheels in her mind turned.
“They were right,” She whispered hoarsely, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. “They are…”
The dam burst open and the tears cascaded down her ashen cheeks, bouncing off her neck and dripping on the floor, mixing with the blood.
With a deep, teary breath she turned- and ran. Ran past the bloody pond, now adorned with trees and deckchairs, past the bodies whose eyes she could not meet, past the tattered copy of 1984 which lay intact by an upturned bench. She ran, the memories of the day flying past her, pricking at her mind.
She ran for life, with knowledge that was causing her brain to ache. For her, life would never be the same…

Will someone please crit this?

Sure, give me a couple of hours.

Oh look, I'm tired. Is this sarcasm? 'Cos I'm seriously too tired to tell.
I know it's long, but I think people can manage it.

Blood-soaked and almost lifeless, the girl slowly dragged her unwilling body out of the debris.

Breathing heavily, she forced her body up, her legs and arms dangling pathetically - giving her the look of a tarnished rag doll. She tasted the sickly taste of blood swilling in her mouth. The tears streaming down her scarred face, she stared at the carnage that lay around her. Below her, the corpse of a young woman lay, her head a few metres way. A wave of nausea washed over her, her heart was somewhere by her toes, and she noticed her straggly hazel hair was now stained with vomit and blood. Staggering, she made her way to the gates of the park, slowly trying to put the pieces together of what had been such an awful, awful day…..

I think this kind of gives away the ending. Perhaps it would be better if you integrated this with the story, instead of using it at the beginning. Also, beware of over-dramatizing this story, it can really wear a reader down, and it gives the story all the significance of a soap opera.

“Big Brother’s watching,” Athlea muttered mindlessly, playfully caressing the tattered copy of 1984 that rested on her lap.
“What you on about?” Roka exclaimed, causing the content of his mouth (lemonade and a cheese sandwich) to shoot into the air in a grotesque firework display and land with a distinctive squelch on his gleaming trainers.

Don't use parenthesis. Integrate that into the story. I'd advise against using that much detail regarding the spewing, unless the spewing has a special significance to the story.

“Yuck, you pig, how old are you?” Athlea turned away from the book (for only a moment) to observe the mass of saliva and lunch that Roka was flicking away with his hand, embarrassed , before burrowing her head amidst the pages yet again.
Grudgingly wiping the stains from his once sparkling trainers, Roka glanced at the book (who still read books?) that his sister was flicking through anxiously.

Same thing about the parenthesis. The dialogue seems kind of forced. There is a comment, an insult, and a question in the same sentence, which doesn't quite flow. If you eliminate "Yuck" or "you pig" it should flow much better. Also, beware using extra words for the sake of having them.

She sat, cross legged on the bench, bent over like an old man and her straggly hazel hair burying her face. She stared open mouthed , looking bemused and yet enthralled at the same time.
Her nimble fingers flicked the pages in a flurry, her head growing ever closer to the book the further she read, as if it were about to engulf her at any moment.
Roka stared curiously at his baby sister, wondering how simply an array of clever-sounding words and the occasional smart-alec anecdote could invade someone’s mind in such a way it made them almost alien to their surroundings. Roka was convinced a bomb could have dropped in New Caverns Park that day, and Athlea would not even have looked up- perhaps to mutter a slight “Hmmm…how very odd.” before returning to her book without hesitation.

I'd avoid using phrases like "Hmmm..." and "Umm..." because they are relatively useless. If the character is going to hesitate before speaking, write that instead of "Hmmm" and "Umm" (this is just a pet-peeve of mine.)

“1984? That’s ancient!!” Roka said, eyeing the book curiously “A thousand years old! What is it - a history book?”
“No, it’s fiction. George Orwell’s idea of what the year 1984 could be like,” She explained, without taking her eyes off the book “Fascinating, actually”
Uninterested, Roka’s wandering eye began to waver to a group of girls who lay sunbathing by the lake. But excited by Roka’s intrigue Athlea began to retell the plot, only for it to burst from her mouth in a pot of mumbles and excited whispers - almost inaudible by the distracted Roka.
“Andinroom101yourgreatestfearwaitsanbiogbrotherswathcing so” She ranted on, her eyes glowing with excitement: Well, in chapter 4 there…ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!”

Never run words together if you can help it. It might also be more interesting if instead of writing a scream you write "her inane babble was cut off suddenly by a scream as she grabbed her head in agony" Or something to that effect. I got to go, so I'll finish this later.

Is the girl Athela?


I like how you put the ending in the begining. Just me though. I don't think it gives anything away, bucause it doesn't make sence untill you read the rest.

Just a few things..

“Andinroom101yourgreatestfearwaitsanbiogbrotherswathcing so” She ranted on, ..... should be...

“And-in-room-101-your-greatest-fear-waits-an-big-brothers-wathcing so” She ranted on...
Thats generally how you show that it's all in one breath, if thats the effect you're looking for.

biog seams like a typo for big, but maybe it's just how she talks.

And please take the enphasis off the spewing. Thats way to gross, and detracts a bit.

This is all just in my opinion though. Don't get mad . I like it as a whole, and look forward to part two!

Thanks for all comments so far.
I think the general feeling is that it's a good idea that has lots of potenial, but the writing is flawed in many places. Agree? Disagree?

Your problem isn't detail, you accomplished that well. The problem is over detailing. Every thing is detailed intricately, but if you detail everything like that, it makes it difficult for the reader to determine which details are important and which aren't.

Cool, I'm pleased. I've taken everything on board, and I'm over-the-moon that no-one has beenr ude enough to say "it's awful".
Oh, and btw I love the fact the spewing detail is grossing out people, lol

Here ya go... I had some time on my hands... Ignore what you want, it's still your story. Have fun writing!

Blood-soaked and almost lifeless, the girl slowly dragged her unwilling body out of the debris.

I like the “unwilling body” good choice

Breathing heavily, she forced her body up, her legs and arms dangling pathetically - giving her the look of a tarnished rag doll.

I’d take out “pathetically” it seems redundant. And I don’t know if “tarnished” is a good descriptive word for a rag doll.

She tasted the sickly taste of blood swilling in her mouth.

redundant : taste/tasted

The tears streaming down her scarred face, she stared at the carnage that lay around her. Below her, the corpse of a young woman lay, her head a few metres way.

the “her” in the second sentence is redundant(beware you do this a lot. And better than giving a name, is to rearrange the sentence, so you don’t need to use “her”... since it’s the only character so far, you don’t have to specify so much). So you could take it out completely, or you might want to rearrange the whole sentence: “Below lay the corpse of a young woman, her head meters away.” Sp: meters.

A wave of nausea washed over her, her heart was somewhere by her toes, and she noticed her straggly hazel hair was now stained with vomit and blood. Staggering, she made her way to the gates of the park, slowly trying to put the pieces together of what had been such an awful, awful day…..

nice grab. I want to know all about what happened... so I shall continue reading. And you continue to watch out for the overabundance of “her” and “she” it’s very distracting...

“Big Brother’s watching,” Athlea muttered mindlessly, playfully caressing the tattered copy of 1984 that rested on her lap.
“What you on about?” Roka exclaimed, causing the content of his mouth (lemonade and a cheese sandwich) to shoot into the air in a grotesque firework display and land with a distinctive squelch on his gleaming trainers.

Using parenthesis should be saved for times of great need. I believe in you, you don’t need them here. “Content of his mouth” could be traded out for the actual contents, parentheses dropped. I like “squelch” nice word.

“Yuck, you pig, how old are you?” Athlea turned away from the book (for only a moment) to observe the mass of saliva and lunch that Roka was flicking away with his hand, embarrassed , before burrowing her head amidst the pages yet again.
Grudgingly wiping the stains from his once sparkling trainers, Roka glanced at the book (who still read books?) that his sister was flicking through anxiously.

Watch for those parenthesis. You could use more visual descriptive words for the mass, to make is sound more repulsive, which is what seems like what you’re getting at. “With his hand” is redundant, it’s what people automatically assume. If he was being weird and using a utensil or foot, then it would be plausible, or if you described the motion more than “flicking” but since you didn’t it’d be fine to just take out the “with his hand” you know? The whole sentence seems like a run-on, I like to use “;” to solve them. And try italics for thought. Parenthesis really throw off flow. I’d move the thought to the end of the sentence, so it doesn’t break the flow of the glance. Glances should be quick, done quickly, read quickly.

She sat, cross legged on the bench, bent over like an old man and her straggly hazel hair burying her face. She stared open mouthed , looking bemused and yet enthralled at the same time.

wordy sentence. Be sure that everything you write can be said easily, “...bent over like an old man, her straggly hazel hair...” “Burying” doesn’t seem like the right word. It’s very close to “burrowing” and in my experience, when my hair is in my face I’m not suffocated by it. It’s more of a curtain. Just a thought.

Her nimble fingers flicked the pages in a flurry, her head growing ever closer to the book the further she read, as if it were about to engulf her at any moment.

“growing” seems out of place, maybe “becoming,”... Maybe the whole sentence could be changed. I’m thinking of something like “the deeper she read, the more deeply she became immersed...” I like “engulf” good word...

************************************************************************************

Roka stared curiously at his baby sister, wondering how simply an array of clever-sounding words and the occasional smart-alec anecdote could invade someone’s mind in such a way it made them almost alien to their surroundings.

run on. Short sentences do not sound stupid. Run on’s were a struggle for me to get past, now I’m a bit anal about them. They make sentences more confusing, sometimes people have to read the same sentence again to understand it. Remember, it’s about the story, not the words. People shouldn’t have to translate and process, they should just accept the story. (Be careful of this throughout your story)

Roka was convinced a bomb could have dropped in New Caverns Park that day, and Athlea would not even have looked up- perhaps to mutter a slight “Hmmm…how very odd.” before returning to her book without hesitation.

“without hesitation” is a bit redundant. You can get her mood from her statement, you don’t need these extra words.

“1984? That’s ancient!!” Roka said, eyeing the book curiously “A thousand years old! What is it - a history book?”

curiously is redundant, you used it recently already and you can get the idea with just the “eyeing the book.”

“No, it’s fiction. George Orwell’s idea of what the year 1984 could be like,” She explained, without taking her eyes off the book “Fascinating, actually”
Uninterested, Roka’s wandering eye began to waver to a group of girls who lay sunbathing by the lake. But excited by Roka’s intrigue Athlea began to retell the plot, only for it to burst from her mouth in a pot of mumbles and excited whispers - almost inaudible by the distracted Roka.

“waver” doesn’t fit. It’s not really used correctly. “...wandering eye found a group of girls...” maybe. Some of this just sounds like you’re trying too hard to sound smart, just let it flow. (Are you in band... like at school? ‘Cause I could easily relate writing to playing music).
I’d take out the “But...” it should really be saved to make a point or something. Usually you can get away just fine with going right into the idea... but you need a break in the sentence: “Excited by Roka’s intrigue, Athlea began to retell the plot.” run on, end the sentence or use a semi-colon and change the following wording a bit to make it fit/flow better.

“Andinroom101yourgreatestfearwaitsanbiogbrotherswathcing so” She ranted on, her eyes glowing with excitement: Well, in chapter 4 there…ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHH!”

Athlea used a word like fascinating... then she starts in on a major blond moment... in my mind her IQ dropped substantially... she just doesn’t seem consistent... but that may just be her personality...
as long as the reader knows who you’re talking about, you don’t need to specify with all these “her” and “she” words. Like it makes perfect sense if you just had, “She ranted on, eyes glowing with...”
Ok, from now on I’ll just bold all the words that aren’t necessary...

Athlea’s body slumped off the bench and her body hit the floor with a deafening crack. Athlea felt as if her head were being crushed together.

the second “Athlea” is redundant, here you might like to replace it with “she.” And you could use a semi-colon after “together”to link it and the following sentence, since they’re closely related and all.

Like her brain was being stretched and pulled and ripped. Her eyes felt as if they could explode and fire burned in her throat.

I think you could be more descriptive with the feelings. The “...stretched and pulled and ripped.” has a very slow painful feeling, and the next sentence is really quick. Drag out the pain.

All she saw was Roka leaning over her, his face contorted and his words nothing but ghostly whispers.

nice!

It was happening again.
It had all started a few months ago, and now it had become weekly. The crushing headache, the temperature soaring, Athlea thought every time that it was her last. She could see visions in her mind, taunting her and screaming in her face.

“...become weekly; the crushing headache...” and “soaring temperature” is the common phrasing, and it’s more consistent with “crushing headache” grammatically and all... did she think it was her last? Or did she wish it was? Like deep down she knew she couldn’t get away from whatever it is that is haunting her. If it’s in her mind, it’s a vision... I’d re-write the sentence.

Athlea saw Roka pulling a bottle of pills from somewhere and pouring them into her mouth. She gurgled like an infant, and then the pain began to ease.

“pulling a bottle of pills from somewhere” is kind of awkward. In all this pain is she really so coherent? Maybe she should just feel the pills in her mouth...

Pulling herself up, she sat on the bench and began to weep.

you should either describe it as more of a struggle, or you could just shorten it to “she sat up”... but I’d go with the first idea...

“How are you?” Roka asked, his face’s complexion matching the vanilla ice-cream that had dropped to the floor seconds before.

Where did the ice cream come from? Try mentioning it earlier when they’re just sitting. Like she could take a bite of ice cream while they’re sitting around.

“I thought I was going to die,” She sobbed “It’s awful. But it only happened when..”
Athela paused. Her eyes scanned around them. She nodded at a woman who appeared to be picking apples.

ok, this is just a picky thing: but it should be punctuated like this: ...happened when–”.
And where are they? Outside? You need to do some more development I think. Maybe these two need a tiny conversation about their surroundings or something... I’m sure you can think of something more relevant...
I mean, it’s alright to slowly introduce characters, but this is way too choppy.

“Look,” She said, her eyes staring deep into Roka’s “I have something to tell you.”
And as and Roka began their quiet, life-threatening conversation, a small unnoticeable flower below them, slowly rotated to face them. Then, a miniscule click could be heard and the flower slyly extended. Slowly but certainly, its authentic stalk extended until the amber petals brushed below the bench.

of course she’s staring with her eyes, silly. Try “...said, staring deep into Roka’s eyes...”
Hmmm... life-threatening, I’m intrigued!
“Small, unnoticeable” is redundant. Grab a thesaurus, I’m sure you can find a word that means the same as those two put together.
Spelling: Minuscule (another one of those words that throws off the tone...)
If the characters don’t respond to the “click” how do we know it was heard?

It did a 360 degree spin and then all was ready - the recording had begun.

360 degree spin is very technical. Full/complete rotation/spin? You don’t need all the numbers to make it sci-fi.

“It’s a possibility though, isn’t it?” Athlea enquired, finally shoving her book in the badge-swamped rucksack that rested against her leg. “When you think about it…?”

“enquired” sounds like she’s forcing the answer, is she just asking? Don’t dig deep for words to replace, said and asked. You don’t want to draw attention away from the story.

It took a few minutes (and a sharp poke in the ribs) before Roka would grudgingly respond.

away with the parenthesis! They are the spawn of all that is unholy!... ok, I just don’t agree with them... their religious affiliation is none of my business...

“No, it‘s rubbish!” He snapped, flicking his hands in dismissal and gave a superior snort that caused Athela’s fists to clench “What? Us being controlled, I don’t think so!!”

question mark: “...being controlled? I don’t...”

“No!” Athlea cried, exasperated. “I mean us being watched. In fact when you think about it, it’s quite a possibility. I’ve noticed things. And dad, dad always said..”

“...always said–”

“Oh, don’t start about Dad!” Roka shot back suddenly, with an unfamiliar angry voice. “We all know his death was accidental! Stop bringing it up!!”

maybe instead of “Dad” he could say “that again,” it’s more of an eye-rolling tone, but if you’re going for serious, it’s fine the way it is.
“angry voice” is a very childish way to put it. Describe the volume, and really anything that’s different from his normal voice. What does an angry person sound like to you?

Never to be defeated , Athlea determinedly continued her rant:
“I mean, if I’m honest, this idea has been on my mind for awhile. Dad may have been right, and I’ve noticed some other things too. Perhaps, this isn’t the right time, but I’ve met people. And they believe what dad said too. We…”

“...if I’m honest...” = “...to be honest...”
Would she be more worried about the time or place? If she thinks she’s being watched...

As Athela quietly continued her debate, the flower below was now taller than ever and spinning around, recording every letter that poured from her mouth.

if the flower is taller, is it still below them? Just a personal thing maybe: pouring seems more of a heavy word, and whispering seems light...

The recording was then sent through cascades of wires and cables, so ingeniously small they were undetectable.. Those wires would’ve connected to the mainframe which was then sent to a secret building, about 123m under ground where Athela and Roka were sat. The wire then was plugged up to a tv screen along with an array of other cameras, all recording normal, pleasant conversations.

BLAM! Here is the science part. That was a slap in the face. Slow down, beware of run-ons, don’t get to excited with the big words, and make sure it all flows... and don’t think about computers while you’re on crack... but that’s just one person’s advice lol

The youth that sat, observing every monitor was around twenty five, and his eyes were blood red as he stared at the screens around him, his tongue poking out through concentration.

major run-on. Very choppy, just write like you’d speak. Writing is like storytelling.

He was scrawny and pale, and had clean-cut blonde hair with a squint fridge.

“squint fridge”? I’m confused... is this a regional thing?

His large glasses magnified his eyes, and made his other features look minute compared to his towering eyes . His lips seemed to droop and his face was almost lifeless, as if any joy he had ever felt had been vacuumed from his soul.

vacuumed... kinda throws off the mood. Stolen? Sucked? Beaten? Find a word that would fit his empty personality/look.

He typed occasionally, his fingers often clumsily pressing the wrong letter, for him to curse quietly, with a satisfied grin of mischief on his face - like a child who’s just cheeked the teacher. There was something about this man which made him unforgettable, and for a few people he would be.

I’m confused by him cursing. And the “cheeked the teacher.” another regional thing?
“For few people” is too vague. Are you talking about Athlea and Roka?

“It’s a possibility though isn’t it?”
Athlea’s impeccable accent flowed through the screen and soon the images of the two teens were on the monitor, chatting happily in the ironically sun-laden New Cavern Park.

accent? What accent? Is she well articulated? You need more intro. Ah! Now we find out where they are. Maybe in the beginning you could do a scan of the park, and mention what people are doing in the park and focus in on these two... then go into their talking.

Instantly, the man was alerted to the conversations. As it continued, he felt suddenly sick and could swear he felt his heart stop for a few seconds.
This was it.
Speaking into his microphone, he uttered:
“We have a code amber-red, I repeat amber red. We have a suspicion and possibly more evidence. Talks of a group and a missing father. Could it be Paulo’s kids?!”

“possibly more evidence” = “possibly a lead.”
Is the “Could it be...” still into the mic? Or is it just to himself?... like a personal problem

There was a silence on the other end, before footsteps could be heard, racing up to him in a hurry to calm the situation. There was as expectation for a crowd of aggressive thugs to burst through the doors, but to everyone’s surprise one middle- aged man in a classy suit strode confidently through the door, and after dismissing the other workers approached our friend, with an icy smile.

“there was an expectation” is a no-no. always place “blame” like instead maybe: “everyone in the room expected...” or something like that.
“Aggressive thug” is odd, it’s like an educated word with a word that has more of a hard-core, kick-your-ass, low-IQ connotation. Thug is “gangsta,” Aggressive is a spelling word...
The sentence is a run-on. Put a break between “...through the doors” and “to everyone’s...”
what kind of suit? It could tell a lot about a person. Is it old man tweed-style, hip pinstripes, a certain cloth that’s hard to come by? You can tell us who he is by what he’s wearing. Are the buttons (if it’s a classic suit, which it may not be in a sci-fi*shrug*) unbuttoned? Are his hands in his pockets(causual), behind his back(business). Are his shoes polished? Is he wearing shoes? How well groomed is his hair? Is it specked with the grey of age, can you see the lines on his face from his time in the sun? Does he spend his time in this building so much his complexion is white. Who is he?

The man (let’s call him Fred) was by now quivering, the sweat tricking down his forehead.
He gasped with angst at the man’s eyes, which he could only describe as demonic. They were huge, and Fred felt as if they were burning holes through his skin. His smile was equally as fake, gleaming white and with a crocodile quality to them - Fred was waiting for the “snap”.

–parenthesis!!! stop the madness!!!– and you don’t have to call him anything. You can refer to him by his look. But I think “Fred” is a weak name... too funny... personal issues maybe, but I think you can find a cooler name.
“...gasped with angst at...” is awkward. I’d write it like this, “...gasped, in horror, at...” but it is your story.
“Huge” is a weak description of demonic. Are they blood-red? Burning with hate? Get poetic if you have to.
Fake smile... to go with the eyes you never described as fake? Did you mean evil?

“Good man,” he said suddenly, causing Fred to jump “This is good, this girl obviously has suspicions and we have located her “group”. I hate to say this, but it’s time to drop the Mtertram.T12.”
“No way!” Fred cried, overwhelmed by his own dismay “We can’t! So what if the girl does, there are at least 50 people around her who’ll die too!”
The boss’s smile faded fast.

take out the quotes around group.
If the girl does what? Did you mean knows?
“...faded fast” = “...quickly faded”

“That’s life,” He replied, with no hint of remorse in his voice “We can’t have people knowing, and I have a feeling that other members are around. People are getting more suspicious of us now, we can’t take any risks! And if she is Paulo’s daughter..”

“With no hit of remorse” is a long phrase. The reader gets kind of tangled in it.

“But-” Fred began, but stopped, realizing he was fighting a lost battle. He gulped and hung his head.
The boss sighed, and then spoke into his microphone.

the second but seems redundant. You could say “then stopped”
So the guy that walked in is the boss? Try to establish this earlier, like with his presence.

*********

“Some of the gang members are here,” Athlea whispered, glancing around “We’ve planned it. Look, I don‘t want to say too much”

I think you should come up with a creative name for “the gang.” think about it...

Roka suddenly raised a finger to his sister’s lips, the grounds of the park began to shake. Trees quivered and ripples were seen in the lake. Athlea raised an eyebrow inquisitively:
“What the…?”

“grounds” isn’t the right word. Could he feel the earth beneath him shanking?
“Were seen” is a passive voice, no-no. “could be seen” isn’t.

And then it happened.
The bomb exploded, throwing Athlea and Roka into the air and crashing into a tree.

since we know little about the bomb, only slightly more than Athlea and Roka, don’t mention that it’s a bomb. Describe the explosion instead.
Since they went flying into something other than the air, it’d be better to say they were thrown through the air and crashed into a tree or whatever.

Smoke swirled in the air. The park transformed from lush green to blood red in seconds. People burst into a million pieces, trees were thrown like matchsticks and blood splattered everywhere.

I like it. Nicely done.

There were cries and moans, coughs and splutters, desperate shrieks of “HELP!”. The death was everywhere, corpses slumped in the now crimson lake, and the stench of vomit hung in the air.

I think gore is your strong point.
Change around the first sentence so that it’s consistent. Either add something else after desperate shrieks or take out the first two and’s and add one before “desperate”.

Ten seconds later, and the girl stood there again, still witnessing the carnage around her.

“again” you mean still? Or did this unknown girl finally get her feet under her again? In any case the “again” and the “still” contradict eachother.

She heard police sirens in the distance and a few figures were now crawling out of the wreckage. She didn’t care though, her mind was reeling. She tried to put the pieces together, something was starting to fit. Almost…the wheels in her mind turned.
“They were right,” She whispered hoarsely, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. “They are…”
The dam burst open and the tears cascaded down her ashen cheeks, bouncing off her neck and dripping on the floor, mixing with the blood.

I really like this. Give yourself a pat on the back.

With a deep, teary breath she turned and ran. Ran past the bloody pond, now adorned with trees and deck-chairs, past the bodies whose eyes she could not meet, past the tattered copy of 1984 which lay intact by an upturned bench. She ran, the memories of the day flying past her, pricking at her mind.
She ran for life, with knowledge that was causing her brain to ache. For her, life would never be the same…

I think this ending makes up for any little grammatical stuff you tripped over earlier. If your beginning was this comfortable, it’d be an awesome piece. Never give up! Peace out.