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 my mistakes in the sixth part of my short story?
Paul trudged back into the waiting room and slumped into a chair. He was fuming with anger and helplessness. Why do I pay my taxes when I don't get help when I mostly need it? he wondered. I've never been on sick leave, never skived, never shirked, and when I'm searching for help, I get kicked out by a twit in white. I should have choked him just as that girl from my nightmares did to me, so that he can understand what it means to have fear.
He looked around at other people who sat absorbed in their thoughts, and he wished he could share his frustration with someone, but knowing their mentality he was in no doubt they would meet him with a wall of silence. People in this country have always be subjugated and they don't know a better way, he thought. They'll wait quietly for a whole week if they are told, and never complain.
"Please leave the premises." A polite voice of a security guard broke the stream of his thoughts. Paul looked up at the square face of a young man, who he believed to have seen somewhere. They had probably worked out in the same gym, where he went three times a week to keep his muscles in shape. Paul was in no mood to quarrel and went obediently outside. The night air was cool and made him shiver. He had forgotten to take his jacket with him when he ran out of the house in panic, and was dressed just in a shirt and a jumper. He stood at the entrance wondering where to go. With no family in town, and no real friends who would understand him and support him, he had never felt so lonely and abandoned.
He went to a park and lay on a bench. He tried to get some sleep, but the coldness which cut through his clothes and a group of alcoholics who shouted and quarrelled with each other kept him awake, so he moved down to the river where nobody was going to bother him. He sat on a wooden jetty close to the flock of wild ducks which paid no attention to him. They were huddled together, drowsy and gloomy, just as this autumn weather. The river floated slowly by and had a fresh, pleasant smell. He breathed in deeply and felt invigorated. A few dinghies and yachts were moored on the opposite riverbank, and Paul played with the idea of breaking in but thought better of it. He had never been on a boat and probably wouldn't be able to sleep on water with that constant bobbing. His stomach churned, reminding him of hunger and that dinner he left unfinished.
TO BE CONTINUED
Paul trudged back into the waiting room and slumped into a chair. He was fuming with anger and helplessness. Why do I pay my taxes when I don't get help when I mostly need it? he wondered. I've never been on sick leave, never skived, never shirked, and when I'm searching for help, I get kicked out by a twit in white. I should have choked him just as that girl from my nightmares did to me, so that he can understand what it means to have fear.
He looked around at other people who sat absorbed in their thoughts, and he wished he could share his frustration with someone, but knowing their mentality he was in no doubt they would meet him with a wall of silence. People in this country have always be subjugated and they don't know a better way, he thought. They'll wait quietly for a whole week if they are told, and never complain.
"Please leave the premises." A polite voice of a security guard broke the stream of his thoughts. Paul looked up at the square face of a young man, who he believed to have seen somewhere. They had probably worked out in the same gym, where he went three times a week to keep his muscles in shape. Paul was in no mood to quarrel and went obediently outside. The night air was cool and made him shiver. He had forgotten to take his jacket with him when he ran out of the house in panic, and was dressed just in a shirt and a jumper. He stood at the entrance wondering where to go. With no family in town, and no real friends who would understand him and support him, he had never felt so lonely and abandoned.
He went to a park and lay on a bench. He tried to get some sleep, but the coldness which cut through his clothes and a group of alcoholics who shouted and quarrelled with each other kept him awake, so he moved down to the river where nobody was going to bother him. He sat on a wooden jetty close to the flock of wild ducks which paid no attention to him. They were huddled together, drowsy and gloomy, just as this autumn weather. The river floated slowly by and had a fresh, pleasant smell. He breathed in deeply and felt invigorated. A few dinghies and yachts were moored on the opposite riverbank, and Paul played with the idea of breaking in but thought better of it. He had never been on a boat and probably wouldn't be able to sleep on water with that constant bobbing. His stomach churned, reminding him of hunger and that dinner he left unfinished.
TO BE CONTINUED
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