Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Would you please correct the mistakes in the first part of my short story. This is a work of fiction and has nothing to do with real persons or events.
The prime minister went to bed late, her body still aching from all the meetings, discussions, quarrels and worries she had to deal with from early in the morning. With every passing day, she grew more anxious. She was in turmoil since she had become the leader of the party. What should have been the pinnacle of her career was turning into the nightmare. Her government had become a nest of vipers. As they all sat together at a long table, they smiled and nodded at each other, but she knew that anyone of them could be her executioner. Some ministers had gone and new had come, but the atmosphere didn’t change a bit. They plotted against her and against one another, hoping to seize the chance when it came up. Behind their smiles and greetings hid deviousness and treachery that you read about in Shakespeare’s plays.
If people had voted differently on the Brexit referendum, her life would have been much quieter. She would have stayed in the government, although somewhere in the background, where you were not exposed to the evil media and prying journalists, watching your every movement and commenting on every word you said. A few years later, she would not only receive her well-deserved pension but also would become a peer, her name embellished with the baroness title. But masses had proved again they cannot think rationally and voted for Leave. When Vade saw what had happened, he resigned and ran away, leaving her alone to clear up the mess. She could’ve told him no and kept her ministerial post, but she is made of sterner stuff than her enemy can imagine. She was ready to take up the fight because the future of the country was at stake. If beardy Ivan ever came to power, the country would be lost. Instead of God Save the Queen, everyone would be singing the Internationale, people would greet each other with “comrade”, and students would carry Karl Marx’s Capital in their schoolbags.
As long as she was breathing, she wowed never to allow such a tragedy to happen. She was sent by destiny, just as it was Churchill and Mrs Thatcher before her, at the time when the country needed a charismatic leader who would guide the nation towards victory. When she felt depressed and had nobody around her, she would put on her favourite necklace, the one with the white pearls as large as ping-pong balls, and stand in front of a large mirror. “Christina, you are the greatest leader!” she pumped the air with her gnarled fists. “You’re the chosen one. Don’t let them bring you down.” After these pep talks, she felt energized, more determined than ever to go to the end. She vowed never to resign, even if the whole country called for it.
TO BE CONTINUED
The prime minister went to bed late, her body still aching from all the meetings, discussions, quarrels and worries she had to deal with from early in the morning. With every passing day, she grew more anxious. She was in turmoil since she had become the leader of the party. What should have been the pinnacle of her career was turning into the nightmare. Her government had become a nest of vipers. As they all sat together at a long table, they smiled and nodded at each other, but she knew that anyone of them could be her executioner. Some ministers had gone and new had come, but the atmosphere didn’t change a bit. They plotted against her and against one another, hoping to seize the chance when it came up. Behind their smiles and greetings hid deviousness and treachery that you read about in Shakespeare’s plays.
If people had voted differently on the Brexit referendum, her life would have been much quieter. She would have stayed in the government, although somewhere in the background, where you were not exposed to the evil media and prying journalists, watching your every movement and commenting on every word you said. A few years later, she would not only receive her well-deserved pension but also would become a peer, her name embellished with the baroness title. But masses had proved again they cannot think rationally and voted for Leave. When Vade saw what had happened, he resigned and ran away, leaving her alone to clear up the mess. She could’ve told him no and kept her ministerial post, but she is made of sterner stuff than her enemy can imagine. She was ready to take up the fight because the future of the country was at stake. If beardy Ivan ever came to power, the country would be lost. Instead of God Save the Queen, everyone would be singing the Internationale, people would greet each other with “comrade”, and students would carry Karl Marx’s Capital in their schoolbags.
As long as she was breathing, she wowed never to allow such a tragedy to happen. She was sent by destiny, just as it was Churchill and Mrs Thatcher before her, at the time when the country needed a charismatic leader who would guide the nation towards victory. When she felt depressed and had nobody around her, she would put on her favourite necklace, the one with the white pearls as large as ping-pong balls, and stand in front of a large mirror. “Christina, you are the greatest leader!” she pumped the air with her gnarled fists. “You’re the chosen one. Don’t let them bring you down.” After these pep talks, she felt energized, more determined than ever to go to the end. She vowed never to resign, even if the whole country called for it.
TO BE CONTINUED
