Young Writers Society

Jeremy Baker walked down the well-known route to detention, the long corridor. “No one calls me Jeremy” he thought angrily, “it’s always that idiot, bully, stupid”.

The dreary faded grey color of the lockers made a ghastly combination with the whitewashed wall. Banners of a range of school activities, decorated the corridors ceilings. They were, however, far from growing fainter. Some attractive, others unappealing, but all splashed in colors and arrays of creativity. Each banner illustrated the creator’s mind. Bright colorful pictures reminded him of exuberant memories, memories of him indulged in paintings. Dark colors took him back to his awful life, immediately striking wretched emotions. The tiles, black and white, and with too many different color, left by students as their mark formed interesting patterns. The golden light of the sun refracted through the window danced on the tiles, creating shadows of the various items in the corridor. He walked towards the large glass window, squinting his eyes towards the sky, mesmerized by the variety of shades of blue God must have used to paint it, and how perfectly the white fluffy clouds contrasted the sky to give it a simplicity look. On the other hand, the fiery red of the sun, gleaming to its might, looked invincible. The sky was contradictory, just like him.

“Why do I have to look at the world in colors? Why can’t I just be good at studies and make my damned family proud?” Jeremy thought miserably.
“But art, colors, drawing are the only thing in life that makes my worth living. I can’t give that up. I won’t give that.”

He suddenly heard footsteps behind him. Surprised, he turned back to see what was going on.

“Oh, it’s Oscar, that nerd. Seeing him makes me imagine serpents and monsters and black. Hate that Get-it-all.”

Unable to control the temperamental outbursts, he walked up to Oscar. Oscar looked up at Jeremy, frightened. Jeremy could give a rat’s face care to what Oscar was thinking. He hated Oscar for being excellent in academics. He hated Oscar for having the quality that he so desperately needed. He saw his failure reflected in bold colors in Oscar. He saw jagged lines of red and black, indicating hatred, anger, jealousy when he saw Oscar.
He shoved Oscar hard, and he fell to the ground. Oscar screamed for help. In Oscar’s miserable voice, he saw victory, triumph painted in the picture of a majestic lion.

He knew the consequences of his action, but he was hardly bothered. Getting detention was all too a familiar experience. He was still rejoicing his majestic lion image. In fact, he looked forward to detention. Leaving Oscar behind on the floor, he reached his destination, a room with ugly written words ‘DETENTION’.

He opened the door and entered.
“Finally, I’m alone. I can paint. I can draw. I can imagine. Freely.”

I have a certain connection with the colours, or so I believe. I can see this whole story with a different perspective
Firstly, hey there.

I love the idea or the notion of looking at the world from a different viewpoint. Colours have their own meanings to every single person on earth. Some see it, some are blind. Blue might mean pain to me but to you it might be survival or strength. That is aura philosophy let's leave it to that

A few things before I really appreciate your work:
Will it be good if you eliminate the multiple mention(?) of the name Oscar? I mean you can use a simple preposition than saying Oscar again and again. Still, do what suits you

I'll give you a little tip, make the conversations be written in italics, it is presentable to the eye. Gives a tone to the story

You see anger and hatred as red and black. Interesting, Some people take red as nervousness and unstable behaviour (like me) the typical take it as valour and courage. Purple is taken during conditions of fight and disorder, though I take it as spiritual thoughts

Well, if you want to write more on this topic you should read 'They' by Rudyard Kipling. It is one of the short stories of the 'Twenty One Tales' my personal favourite

I would really like to hear more of your perceptions about the Colours. As for your work, soon someone will come along and divide and tell you about its various parts accurately

I am not into that. Just write and write, and don't care. You will eventually be the best
Let no one define thou boundaries!

Allah Hafiz,
Love

Interesting story. Like Jeremy, certain colors produce images for me. Or, vice-versa, certain things, songs for instance, produce colors.

The long paragraph describing the association between the colors and Jeremy's emotions full of detail, which is great. However, I think with sentences like "Dark colors took him back to his awful life, immediately striking wretched emotions," you need to be more concrete. What was so awful about his past life? Things like that. My English teacher this year crammed that technique into my head when he tore apart my practice college admission essay.

Anyway, I hope that helps. Keep on writin'.

*Yawn* really didn't do much for me, I'm afraid.

I must give you this, you're getting better and better and I see no downfall whatsoever. But that might also be a personal notion because to me, emotions are ZE thing and you're getting good at it! FATI, I KNOW YOU HAVE A HEART SOMEWHERE IN THERE!

I'll finish off first with my grammatical picks cos I'm sort of a fearless bastard. x)

The tiles, black and white, and with too many different colors...

...how perfectly the white fluffy clouds contrasted the sky to give it a simplicity look.

'Contrast' can be used as a verb too? If not, then it's going to be made a contrast with the sky. If yes, I stand corrected.
To give it a simple look.

“But art, colors, drawing are the only things in life that makes my it worth living. I can’t give that them up. I won’t. give that”

Getting detention was all too a familiar experience.

Getting detention was all too familiar an experience.

Rest of it seems fine. Not fine, but well done! I love how you painted his emotions with colours, from love to hatred. Adjectives used did not appear odd anywhere and you've done a great job at transforming things that are abstract to concrete.
I am proud of how you took up to describe the character of the bad dude here and sweetheart, you've done it beautifully. Your piece kind of justifies bullying haha. <3 I'm saying this because writers mostly would like to resort to the weak character due to his superfluous emotions and tragic life but the bully himself is a whole another story!
I love your works and the apparent difficult challenges you take up yet prove to be so successful at them.

- Sam.

The golden light of the sun refracted through the window danced on the tiles, creating shadows of the various items in the corridor.
“Finally, I’m alone. I can paint. I can draw. I can imagine. Freely.”

*sniff*sniff* I'm not going to say anything else, comment on grammar on anything. Everyone else has already done that. I love the work. You should write more of this sort of things. This makes use of your writing style well. I don't like the word refracted but I like the dancing rays. And I like the last portion.

I loved this peice. The way you integrate colourful descriptions qwith emotions is beautiful. Hope you have a good time writing, looking forward to reading more of your work.