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    #1

    Obsession, part twelve

    Would you please correct my mistakes in the twelfth part of my short story?

    The young man made some good friends. They were men like himself - calm and quiet people who liked to read books and have long discussions about meaning of life. He started drinking alcohol, although he tried to stay sober. He knew his limits - a few pints of beer or a shot or two of vodka. He watched with disbelief how his friends gulped beer, wine and spirits one after the other, and still were able to stand on their legs. Unlike in his homeland, where people drank in moderation, people in this country used every opportunity to get blind drunk. At weekends, the streets were packed with them, staggering and lying in the streets and clutching cans and bottles as if their lives depended on them.
    Student parties were everywhere and often. The young man went there with his friends and had a lot of fun. He watched his fellow students losing their inhibitions and behaving like naughty children, but mostly like fools. A few glasses of an alcoholic drink were able to change completely their personality. He wished he had a camera with him, and could film these future intellectuals, who were lying in their own vomit, or in the urine-stained trousers danced wildly to the techno music. Sometimes, he would bump into them the following day, and he would laugh inside himself. There were no traces of rebellion and defiance on their faces. When the alcohol had worn off, they had reverted to the submissive and obedient citizens as before. You could hardly get a word out of them.

    Once he was at the party in a large house outside the town. He had drunk more than usual and felt tipsy. He went upstairs to have some rest, and lay in bed in darkness, listening to the music and hubbub coming from the first floor. The Venetian blind was up, and the bright moonlight spilled across the room. A door opened soundlessly, and he believed he was dreaming when a girl stepped inside. He gasped and his eyes widened. He almost shouted, “Jasmine.” Because of her blond wavy hair and high cheekbones, the girl could have passed as Jasmine’s older sister. She was tall and wore a skimpy white dress, under which bulged out her large breasts. Barefoot, she walked over to the bed and sat on her knees beside the young man. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and perfume drifted up from her. Without saying a word, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Her fingers slid inside his briefs and touched his organ. A voice inside him warned him to do something and stop her. He was committing a sin, a sacrilege against Jasmine. But another voice urged him to enjoy and relax. Her fingers moved deftly along his manhood and made it hard and swollen. Her eyes had a strange sparkle in them – the eyes of a predator, a tiger or a lion ready to pounce on its prey. He would never understand fully what had happened at that night, but he was shocked to see both his trousers and briefs lying on the floor. Before he could put up any resistance, she was riding on him as if he were a horse. Her left hand held her floating hair behind while her right one massaged her breast. Her motions were rhythmic and smooth, and her eyes closed. He did not know if he should hold her in his arms or pressed her towards him, so he held them on the bed on either side of him while his organ was swelling inside her wet, warm opening. As he came, he let out a piercing cry. Later, when he pondered on that night, he would be unable to tell the origin of that cry. Was it a cry of pleasure or an agony? The woman gave him a bright smile and left the room without saying a word. He never saw her again.

    He felt dirty and disgusted with himself. He should not have allowed this to happen. The woman had taken advantage of him and left him in agony. His feeling for Jasmine was the most sacred part of his soul – the core of his being, and now it was stained by pure sexual urge. He asked her for forgiveness, and he promised never to do such thing again. But the anguish persisted and his body shook. It was the similar feeling he had experienced in the prison camp, and he jumped off the bed and rushed outside. He had to be with people, even if that meant keeping a poker face. Alone, in that room, he would have gone mad with fear.
    He arrived at home at dawn and went straight to shower. The stench of his body lingered in his nostrils, although he did not know if his sense of smell was deceiving him. He squirted a large amount of shower gel on the palm of his hand and scrubbed it over his body. A stream of hot water felt like a balm to his wound. He slumped onto the tiles, and cried for the first time since he had come to this country.

    After five years of study, the young man graduated, and immediately found a job. The need for psychologists was great. Despite being one of the richest countries in the world, its inhabitants suffered from depression, burnout, drug and alcohol abuse and many other mental disorders. The young man mostly treated refugees coming from war-torn countries like Iraq, Sudan, Somalia, and Eritrea. His colleagues were neither educated nor prepared for such patients. They were grateful that he took care of the people whose stories and experiences were difficult to listen to and caused their stomachs to knot. The young man was a patient and attentive listener. Nothing could disrupt his calm. The stories he heard were sometimes horrific. They were about torture, endless interrogations, beatings, rapes, executions, prison camps, amputations without anaesthetic and similar cruelties, which no ordinary person could have listened to without feeling sick. But the young man had become hardened after months in the prison camp. He knew how much pain was hidden behind the words, sighs and silence. He had learnt how to ask questions, and how to leave some things unsaid. Because of his humbleness and dedication to his profession, he was loved and respected by both his colleagues and patients.
    TO BE CONTINUED

  1. teechar's Avatar
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    #2

    Re: Obsession, part twelve

    Quote Originally Posted by Bassim View Post
    The young man made some good friends. They were men like himself- calm and quiet people who liked to read books and have long discussions about the meaning of life. He started drinking alcohol, although he tried to stay sober. He knew his limits- a few pints of beer or a shot or two of vodka. He watched with disbelief how his friends gulped beer, wine and spirits one after the other, and still were able to stand on their legs. Unlike in his homeland, where people drank in moderation, people in this country used every opportunity to get blind drunk. At weekends, the streets were packed with them, staggering and lying around, in the streets and clutching cans and bottles as if their lives depended on them.

    Student parties were everywhere and often.
    The young man went there to the numerous student parties with his friends and had a lot of fun. He watched his fellow students losing their inhibitions and behaving like naughty children, but mostly like fools. A few glasses of an alcoholic drink were able enough to change completely their personalities completely. He wished he had a camera with him , and could to film these future intellectuals who were lying in their own vomit or who in their urine-stained trousers danced wildly to the techno music. Sometimes, he would bump into them the following day, and he would laugh inside himself. There were no traces of the looks of rebellion and defiance on their faces. When the alcohol had worn off, they had reverted to being the submissive quiet and obedient citizens as before. You could hardly get a word out of them.

    Once he was at the a party in a large house outside the town. He had drunk more than usual and felt tipsy. He went upstairs to have some rest, and lay in on a bed in darkness, listening to the music and hubbub coming from the first floor. The Venetian blind was up, and the bright moonlight spilled across the room. door opened soundlessly, and he believed he was dreaming when a girl stepped inside. He gasped and his eyes opened up. widened. He almost shouted, “Jasmine.” Because of her blond wavy hair and high cheekbones, the girl could have passed as Jasmine’s older sister. She was tall and wore a skimpy white dress, under which bulged out her large breasts. Barefoot, she walked over to the bed and sat on her knees beside the young man. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and perfume drifted up from her. Without saying a word, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Her fingers slid inside his briefs and touched his organ. A voice inside him warned him to do something and stop her. He was committing a sin, a sacrilege against Jasmine. But another voice urged him to enjoy himself and relax. Her fingers moved deftly along his manhood and made it hard and swollen. Her eyes had a strange sparkle in them– the eyes of a predator, a tiger or a lion ready to pounce on its prey. He would never understand fully what had happened at (on) that night, but he was shocked to see both his trousers and briefs lying on the floor. Before he could put up any resistance, she was riding on him as if he were a horse. Her left hand held her floating hair behind while her right one massaged her breast. Her motions were rhythmic and smooth, and her eyes closed. He did not know if he should hold her in his arms or press ed her towards close him, so he held them her arms on the bed on either side of him while his organ was swelling inside her wet, warm opening. As he came, he let out a piercing cry. Later, when he pondered on over that night, he would be unable to tell the origin of that cry. Was it a cry of pleasure or an (of) agony? The woman gave him a bright smile and left the room without saying a word. He never saw her again.

    He felt dirty and disgusted with himself. He should not have allowed this to happen. The woman had taken advantage of him and left him in agony. His feeling for Jasmine was the most sacred part of his soul– the core of his being, and now it was stained by pure base sexual urge. He asked her for forgiveness, and he promised vowed never to do such a thing again. But the anguish persisted and his body shook. It was the similar to the feeling he had experienced in the prison camp, and he jumped off the bed and rushed outside. He had to be with people, even if that meant keeping a poker face. Alone in that room, he would have gone mad with fear.

    He arrived at went back home at dawn and went straight to the shower. The stench of his body lingered in his nostrils, although he did not know if his sense of smell was deceiving him. He squirted a large amount of shower gel on the palm of his hand and scrubbed it over his body. A stream of hot water felt like a balm to his wound. He slumped onto the tiles and cried for the first time since he had come to this country.

    After five years of study, the young man graduated, and immediately found a job. The need for psychologists was great. Despite being one of the richest countries in the world, its inhabitants suffered from depression, burnout, drug and alcohol abuse and many other mental disorders. The young man mostly treated refugees coming from war-torn countries like Iraq, Sudan, Somalia, and Eritrea. His colleagues were neither highly educated nor prepared for such patients. They were grateful that he took care of the people whose stories and experiences were (too) difficult to listen to and caused turned their stomachs. to knot. The young man was a patient and attentive listener. Nothing could disrupt disturb his calm. The stories he heard were sometimes often horrific. They were about torture, endless interrogations, beatings, rapes, executions, prison camps, amputations without anaesthetic and similar cruelties, which no ordinary person could have listened to without feeling sick. But the young man had become hardened after months in the prison camp. He knew how much pain was hidden behind the words, sighs and silence. He had learnt how to ask questions, and how to leave some things unsaid. Because of his humbleness and dedication to his profession, he was loved and respected by both his colleagues and patients.
    TO BE CONTINUED
    .

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    #3

    Re: Obsession, part twelve

    teechar,
    What can I say? There are a few people like you on this planet. But you are in minority. You have taken your time to correct my texts, although you could have ignored them and done something other. But you wanted to teach me something and share your knowledge with me. I cannot praise you enough. You can be proud of yourself as a teacher and as a human being.
    I have some questions regarding your corrections. I have noticed that you correct my use of a dash, like in the words "like himself - calm", "his soul - the core of his being. After your corrections, the dash comes closer the the first word like "himself- calm" and "soul- the core." I use the British dash like this "word - word", although I know that the Americans use like this "word--word. " I am wondering if my use of a dash is wrong.
    In my sentence "He gasped and his eyes widened," you have corrected into "his eyes opened up." I have wanted to say that he was so surprised that his eyes widened. His eyes was not completely closed when the girl stepped inside. He saw her and his eyes widened. Does "opened up" means that his eyes were closed when he stepped inside, and then he opened them up?

    There is also another sentence I would like to ask you. My version: "His colleagues were neither educated nor prepared for such patients." Your correction: His colleagues were neither highly educated nor prepared for such patients." The problem with your correction is that it changes the meaning of the sentence. As psychologists, they were all highly educated, but they were not educated to treat such kinds of patients. I am wondering if I could write this sentence like this: "His colleagues were neither trained nor prepared for such patients. "

  2. teechar's Avatar
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    #4

    Re: Obsession, part twelve

    Quote Originally Posted by Bassim View Post
    teechar,... I cannot praise you enough.
    Thanks for that, Bassim. You can buy me a beer if we ever meet in real life.

    You're right about the dash; I was wrong - just sloppiness on my part.
    Also, now that I think about it, there's nothing wrong with "his eyes widened", so you can use that.

    Quote Originally Posted by Bassim View Post
    There is also another sentence I would like to ask you. My version: "His colleagues were neither educated nor prepared for such patients." Your correction: His colleagues were neither highly educated nor prepared for such patients."
    That construction is potentially misleading, and I certainly read it as meaning that the psychologists were not educated.

    Quote Originally Posted by Bassim View Post
    I am wondering if I could write this sentence like this: "His colleagues were neither trained nor prepared prepared nor trained for such patients. "
    It's clearer now.

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