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.
He sat on the bench bent over the laptop on his lap, immersed in his writing, which gave me a chance to observe him for a while. He was incredibly handsome, with olive complexion, dark eyes, black hair and a roman nose, which reminded me of the pictures of Roman emperors I saw in history books. He was dressed in a white linen suit and wore white sneakers. He was a stranger, probably from southern Europe. The longer I watched him, the more my desire grew to hug him. Never before had I felt such strong feelings. My inner voice told me, “This is your father you’ve been searching for. Go and tell him you’re his daughter. You have his eyes, his nose, and his hair. Your quest has finally come to an end.” But I was shy. I was afraid of what his reaction would be. How likely it was that the man in front of me was my father?
When I was younger, I asked my mother who my father was, but my enquiries were met by silence. Years passed during which I hated her because of her secretiveness. Children around me walked with their fathers in the streets or hugged them when they came to school to pick them up, and I could only watch them with envy. But one day my mother sat with me, and sipping wine told me what happened about 15 years ago when she visited Dubrovnik on a package holiday. One evening in the pub, she met a gorgeous guy. She could not remember his name, or his origin. He could have been a local man, Italian or Greek. He was multilingual and cultivated. They spoke about psychology and philosophy, which my mother started to study that year. They drank a few glasses of wine and ended up in her room. He was built like a swimmer, with broad shoulders and small waist, which made her ache for him. They made love the whole night. She was dizzy with alcohol, dizzy with passion, dizzy with his athletic body. Early in the morning, he gave her kiss on her forehead and slipped through the door. She felt as if she met an alien from another planet. She had never before or after felt such lust. The men she met afterwards were pale copies of him. They made her feel empty and lonely. This was the reason she never married. She told me it was better to live alone than be bored in a company. At least she got me as a living memory of him – the result of that sultry night that changed her life entirely. She not only became a mother, but also dropped out of university. Thus, the world lost a philosophy professor and got instead a shop assistant.
The man stopped typing and looked at the sea, which sparkled in the sunshine. He massaged his eyes with his fingertips and stretched, as if he had just woken up. I held my phone and took a few pictures of him in profile. He was like a Hollywood star taking a rest from his important roles in our little town. I was hidden behind a tree and did not want him to see me. I wished to remain unnoticed, just to watch him and to bask in his presence.
He put his laptop in the case and got up. I followed him behind, admiring his tall stature and his firm gait. Passersby stopped and stared. Women pointed their fingers at him. Someone shouted, “Handsome!” He walked on, seemingly ignoring everybody. Finally, he entered the lobby of a budget hotel, which made me somewhat disappointed. I expected him to stay at a five-star hotel and enjoy luxury, but of course, I knew nothing about him and his reason for being here.
TO BE CONTINUED
He sat on the bench bent over the laptop on his lap, immersed in his writing, which gave me a chance to observe him for a while. He was incredibly handsome, with olive complexion, dark eyes, black hair and a roman nose, which reminded me of the pictures of Roman emperors I saw in history books. He was dressed in a white linen suit and wore white sneakers. He was a stranger, probably from southern Europe. The longer I watched him, the more my desire grew to hug him. Never before had I felt such strong feelings. My inner voice told me, “This is your father you’ve been searching for. Go and tell him you’re his daughter. You have his eyes, his nose, and his hair. Your quest has finally come to an end.” But I was shy. I was afraid of what his reaction would be. How likely it was that the man in front of me was my father?
When I was younger, I asked my mother who my father was, but my enquiries were met by silence. Years passed during which I hated her because of her secretiveness. Children around me walked with their fathers in the streets or hugged them when they came to school to pick them up, and I could only watch them with envy. But one day my mother sat with me, and sipping wine told me what happened about 15 years ago when she visited Dubrovnik on a package holiday. One evening in the pub, she met a gorgeous guy. She could not remember his name, or his origin. He could have been a local man, Italian or Greek. He was multilingual and cultivated. They spoke about psychology and philosophy, which my mother started to study that year. They drank a few glasses of wine and ended up in her room. He was built like a swimmer, with broad shoulders and small waist, which made her ache for him. They made love the whole night. She was dizzy with alcohol, dizzy with passion, dizzy with his athletic body. Early in the morning, he gave her kiss on her forehead and slipped through the door. She felt as if she met an alien from another planet. She had never before or after felt such lust. The men she met afterwards were pale copies of him. They made her feel empty and lonely. This was the reason she never married. She told me it was better to live alone than be bored in a company. At least she got me as a living memory of him – the result of that sultry night that changed her life entirely. She not only became a mother, but also dropped out of university. Thus, the world lost a philosophy professor and got instead a shop assistant.
The man stopped typing and looked at the sea, which sparkled in the sunshine. He massaged his eyes with his fingertips and stretched, as if he had just woken up. I held my phone and took a few pictures of him in profile. He was like a Hollywood star taking a rest from his important roles in our little town. I was hidden behind a tree and did not want him to see me. I wished to remain unnoticed, just to watch him and to bask in his presence.
He put his laptop in the case and got up. I followed him behind, admiring his tall stature and his firm gait. Passersby stopped and stared. Women pointed their fingers at him. Someone shouted, “Handsome!” He walked on, seemingly ignoring everybody. Finally, he entered the lobby of a budget hotel, which made me somewhat disappointed. I expected him to stay at a five-star hotel and enjoy luxury, but of course, I knew nothing about him and his reason for being here.
TO BE CONTINUED
