Young Writers Society

after all. Overall, it

I have little memory of any relatives that would write to me, as I am nothing but a London girl.

she tailed off

’he tailed off

tdownes wrote: The silence that had so long held the town has broken. One of the factories further in Further in where? is now nothing but a blaze of flames, with a horde of rebels clinging to its corners.

I can hear the uproars from the sidelines; their fury is almost tangible.

What is happening seems to be irrelevant to me, but I now realise that the crisp letter that lay in my hand has a meaning after all Hang on a sec - your tenses hav gotten mixed up here . Overall Reconsider word choice, weak , it makes no sense; Replace with full stop I don’t even know who wrote it- Again, replace with full stop for stronger effect the author of this is but a mystery, an unknown…

It Try to avoid sentences beginnign with "it", they're weak and rather vague is strange, though, that it is addressed to me. I have little memory of any relatives that "who" would write to me, as I am nothing "more than a", cut the "but" but a London girl.

The mob soon leaves the outskirts of the town, and in the midst of the still "still" here is redundant raging crowd I can spot the younglings younglings? There's a word like that? I'd have thought "youngsters" leaving the mills, weary from their days work. I hope I would never have to work in the mills. I would never go there, even if were I to become penniless, a beggar on the run-down streets in the slums.

Eliza comes running towards me out of the crowd, her face streaked with dirt and oil, with an anxious expression on her face. Repetition! Re-write that entire last part of tis sentence. For one thing, you don't need "with" again here. For another, don't repeat "her face"

She nearly trips over her equally dirty paper-thin dress; she is very small and thin from days of mounting hunger. No need for this to be as a seperate parapgraph, merge it into one longer paragraph with the sentence above it

‘Amalia! I ‘ave some terrible news…’ I can hear her voice, fluent in her broad Yorkshire accentComma drop as she nears me ( No need for space it seems a bit of a coincidence that my name actually means “work” – Replace dash with "which is what I am expected to do for the rest of my life).

Eliza suddenly looks hesitant, takes a deep breath and explains something that I do not know is about to change my whole life. This entire sentence is wierd, it barely makes sense. Re-write - and there's no need to tell me the effect of what hse is telling you before relaying her words.

‘I’m real sorry, but…I wasn’t s’posed t’ find out – you know what I’m like – and, th’ thing is – um – ‘cos of the fire an’ all that…’ Poor little Eliza seemed lost, but I was frustrated and feeling dissident.

‘Eliza, please just tell me what’s happened’ I demanded impatiently

‘… Your papa’s… gone. It was th’ stuff in th’ fact’ry that did it…’ she tailed off, looking mournful.

I nodded, realising the truth and the inevitability of what was to come next.

I turned and left; usually after my day at school I would go home – but I hadn’t any home now. Ok, I'msorry, but this is fake and unrealistic. Re-write, make it longer and focus on your MC's feelings, emotions, thoughts, instead of simply telling me what she did.


I try to decipher this unreasonable piece of script, travelling by means of it Huh? This last part makes no sense . The words almost form a code, a message, something that points me in the right direction to where I am supposed to be going – some place I know not of or have ever dreamed about.

All I know is that the letter is, in a way, becoming more familiar, as though I have read it before, something memorised again and again, a place of inhabitancy in my mind.

So I begin my unknown quest.


The next morning, I walked Tenses? solemnly into my classroom, my whole body aching from a terrible night’s sleep. Mrs. Levarick gave me a look Don't just tell me "a look", specify what kind of look that would be as I came in, and sat warily on the back benches, usually where the mill children come later in the day, too fatigued to even listen. It was true; I was bedraggled, probably dirty… and also, I had not brought my penny for the day’s scholarship! Now I would definitely be dismissed.

I felt a wave of humility break out "wash over me" is what people tend to say, it flows better over me, and the shame that I had no home, a misfortunate child orphaned by tragedy.

Although I worked hard that day, Mrs. Levarick came over, and pressing my leather-bound journal, No need for comma that served as a school book, No need ofr comma in my hands, told me I was to leave school.

‘No…’ I stared at her in profound disbelief. Tears started to prick at the back of my eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Amalia, but many girls your age have left school by now. It’s nothing to be ashamed of – you’re a very clever student.’

With those words I bade her goodbye, and left the room. Again, fake and unrealistic. Too short.



That evening, after finding a pile of rags in a quiet street to sleep on, I tried to drift off. I felt scared at "at the thouhgt of" or "by the fac tthat I had to sleep.." or something. Simply "at" makes it sound unfinished sleeping on the streets- London was a dangerous place at midnight, purged by sin.

Sleep finally overtook me, and I felt a sense of relief as the unhappiness of the world was removed for a time.

Later that night, I had a strange dream. I was wandering through an eerie forest, a gaping chasm on one side of the mountains surrounding it. The wood was dark and forbidding, but strangely enough comma I had no fear. Without any warning, there was a tremor, and in the midst of a silvery light stood a stag, its graceful head thrust forward in pride. I couldn’t help myself from gasping. This animal was one of the most wonderful creatures that I thought I would never ever, not "never" see in my whole life…

The silver animal walked sedately towards me; I almost shied from it, as the stag’s presence was intimidating The second part of this sentence is weak - you built up a certain effect over the last couple of lines, and these few words just ruined it. Re-write. It bowed its head and I dared touch the silky fur, and as I did so there was a bright glare and a faint, voice:

‘Take the course to the steeps; there you will find refuge in those who dare to live and prosper comma but not for the sake of others’ Full stop. And, uh, what are you trying to say through this? Sorry, but I don't actually understand what you mean here.


I awoke to the sounds of singing dawn birds, and turning on my side, began to ponder about what I had just experienced.

What did it mean – “take the course to the steeps”? Was this a piece of guidance?

After comparing it with my letter, I began to work it out. There was something that my sister – who I figured out wrote the letter, and is now dead – said about leaving for the steeps, “where the sun touches the earth”. The highest place I can think of this type is, of course, where I used to live with both parents. Ah. The hills. OK, you need to back-pedal here. Your sister? You need to give the reader some background info on the family situation in a case like this, otherwise you'll get me completely lost. Like I am now.

Then “course” must mean ‘path’!

I found my way and began my ascent up the rocky path, passing the streets filled with beguiled orphans, their faces mirroring their state of mind and abandon Good description . It was tiring, but I was almost there. Then, there was a sound of hoof beats, and a carriage came past, knocking me to my feet Uh, "to your feet"makes it soud like it made you stand up - and you're already standing, aren't you? Seeing as you're walking? as the horses spooked and reared. I tried to dodge the thrashing hooves, but not before I missed Makes no sense, re-word and there was a blinding pain in my skull as one came down on me.

The next thing I was lying on a makeshift bed of quilts, in agony when I tried to move my heavy head. A heavily Repetition of heavy, look at what you just wrote in the previous sentence. -bearded man with a ruddy complexion, his face full of puzzled concern, was peering at me suspiciously.

I started, but he merely gestured for me to be still. ‘Ah, then. Welcome, my dear niece. Gave us quite a start, you did. Rushing out in front of my carriage like that – you’re lucky you’re not killed!’ he exclaimed in a deep, rich tone. He walked over to the window in the room I was in and began to continue.

‘Of, course, you’re much welcome here and you can stay as long as you wish…’he tailed off and stared out the window into the courtyards.

The strange realisation came to me. This person… was my only relative? The infamous man that I had often heard my father talk about?

Suddenly, instead of feeling relieved at having somewhere to stay, I felt nettled; the dream I had meant something – I wasn’t doubting it – and it had been talking about my uncle.

Apparently he had been known to be under royal service, and he strongly wanted to stay under this favour – which meant forcibly undermining the needy, through insidious plans…

I felt that I should not be in a house of someone who is wealthy, but only because they are treacherous. I felt like snapping at him for his ruthlessness What does she know of his ruthlessness? From what you've told be before - that would be nothing! Background info, now, please!, but I have to avoid being kept a prisoner by my own relative…

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, I mounted one of my uncle’s hunters, a pitch black stallion by the name of Midnight. I left, leaving left, leaving? Re-word this, please behind my unwanted clothes and taking some fresh ones, as well as provisions for my long journey, and a note to my notorious uncle telling him I was leaving repetition to go to ‘a better place’ – but not why "but not a reason" . I also didn’t hasten to add that I had taken one of his horses – I needed some form of transport, and, since they are one of my favoured animals, a horse would suffice. Uh, and besides, what other animal could she use as a form of transport?

As I set into a canter back down the mountainous road, I could see the ominous, dour-looking house on the hills, and a tiny figure standing near the gates, watching and silently fuming. I see my uncle throw the note on the floor; it appears he is piqued.


Just as I am about to slow down I hear more hoof beats in addition to Midnight’s own, and I turn around to see my uncle storming after me on another bay hunter. I urge my mount into a gallop and set off on a path to the fields.

My heart is racing; I can feel my anticipation echoed in Midnight’s steady gallop, now slowing to a canter.

Then, an icy chill sweeps over me; Midnight skitters, throwing back his head repeatedly. I can just glimpse the whites of his eyes.

Why is he acting like this?

I look to my right, and then my answer is there for me.

A strangled gasp escapes my throat, as I see a translucent apparition floating along side me and my spooked horse. Watch your tenses! Should be "...that spooked...", if anything.

I can hardly believe this. Is this real, or am I hallucinating?

I clutch on to the saddle horn, nearly slipping off the near-to-bucking Midnight.

“What are you?” I croak, the fear clear in my parched voice.

The ghost becomes clearer in form: at the same time I feel light headed, suddenly dehydrated. My vision begins to speckle with black.

The vision doesn’t speak.

“Stop!” I yell, clutching my head with one hand. The pain is blinding.

I feel myself slipping away, Midnight taking me to the unknown.

Only then I realise that the ghostly form is familiar to me.

The soft grey eyes and coarse black hair – just like mine. The figure smiles at me, and then begins to fade.

“No!”

My voice reverberates inside my own skull.

I thrash and kick, feeling free but not recalling why I feel so light, like a feather.

And then, I gasp awake, covered in an icy sweat, only to return back to my childhood. Uh, no offence, but the "it was just a dream" ending is such a cliche...

pegasi_quill wrote:

tdownes wrote:The mob soon leaves the outskirts of the town, and in the midst of the still "still" here is redundant raging crowd I can spot the younglings younglings? There's a word like that? I'd have thought "youngsters" leaving the mills, weary from their days work. I hope I would never have to work in the mills. I would never go there, even if were I to become penniless, a beggar on the run-down streets in the slums.