If Enver's dream of stereo equipment and getting his permit aren't central to the story, consider tightening this up. something like "We were walking towards the electronic shop which sold expensive stereo systems when we heard someone shout "Sieg Heil!"This is the fourth and the last part of my short story "A stroll." Please could you proofread it.
Enver stopped walking, took out a cigarette from the pack and
lightedlit it, its smoke coiling up and dissolving in the crisp air. I gazed at him thinking how little I knew about human beings. Since I saw him for the first timeEver since I first saw him, I thought he was mentally frail and now I understood that he was a hero.
During the war I dared to walk through the town only a few times and every time I was almost shaking with fear, glancing
atin every direction, looking for hateful solders who could stop me, beat me or even kill me.
Once I almost shat myself when I saw a group of soldiers stop
pinga middle-aged man and beat inghim viciously on the street. I was so traumatised withby the scene and the man’s cries that I rushed home and went into my room, my body shaking as if I was going to be their next victim.
I could not even imagine what would have happened to me if they had stopped me and started beating me so badly. And here in front of me
a man was standing,stood a man who had gone through hell and talked about thatit as if it had been an everyday occurrence hardly worth mentioning.
I was feeling ashamed because
comparing withcompared to him I was just a greenhorn who had spent themost partof my life reading books instead of living a real life.
Soon we came
into the town centre which was completely abandoned. The only signs of life were traffic lights on the crossingschanging their lightsin regular intervals and neon signs in shop windows turning on and off. We walked towards the electronic shop which sold stereo systems, because it was one of Enver’s dreams to buy an expensive one, when he finally received his residence permit, when we head someone shouting “Sieg Heil!” I looked at the other side of the street and saw three young skinheads extending their right arms in front of them and gazing at us with hatred.
I became frightened because they really looked and sounded threatening. They were dressed completely in black; their polished heavy Dr Martens boots and their flight jackets were sparkling under the streetlights creating
an aura of surreala surreal aura around them. When I came to this town, I had heard many stories told by other refugees about skinheads who were using every opportunity to attack immigrants and refugees, causing them multiple injures with their heavy boots, and now I started to panic, believing that they were going to attack us and beat us brutally.
I did not know how to fight, and I knew I would be unable to defend myself if they decided to attack us. I glanced at Enver, but he was looking at the stereo system in the shop window as if he did not hear anything. The skinheads were now shouting, “Sweden belongs to Swedes! Don’t you feel cold, ragheads?”
Their guffaws were sending shivers down my spine. They reminded me of the guffaws of the Serbian soldiers I heard on the street of my hometown. Maybe my fate was not to die in the war in Bosnia but here in the cold of Sweden, which
did not havehadn't had war for hundreds of years. I wanted to tell Enver that we should run away before it would bewas too late, but feelings of shame was keepingkept my mouth silent.
In one moment Enver took a deep drag from his cigarette and without saying a word turned around and strode resolutely across the street towards skinheads.
They were taken unawares by his movement, and when Enver came close
to them, they retreated. AsWhen they understoodrealized that he would not stop, they turned their backs to him and started to run down the icy street, their heavy shoes hitting the ice like hammers and smashing it into thousands tiny pieces. He turned towards me and walked back across the street, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke twirling upwards around his straggly hair under the black woolen cap.
“I knew they
arewere cowards,” he said.
- For Teachers