Peter and John

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Bassim

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Would you please correct the mistakes in this very short story, which I wrote as en exercise?

As Peter was walking along a busy London street, someone squeezed his arm. He turned around and saw John's grinning face.
"I'can't believe, John? What are you doing here?"
John placed his index finger on his mouth. "Shh! Don't speak aloud. I'm on a secret mission here," he smiled.
"I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you been?"
"Let's go for a drink somewhere where we can speak in private."

He scanned the street around for a moment and then hurriedly led Peter to a side street, without saying a word. Peter was eager to sit and talk with his old friend, who he hadn't seen for years. He had heard all kinds of rumours about him. People told him John was involved in illegal businesses, from drugs, weapons to prostitutes, but you couldn't believe rumours. He only knew that he always liked him because John was frank and wasn't afraid to tell you what he thought of you to your face. If he didn't like you for some reason, he would simply tell you to go away and would treat you like nothing. "There is a quiet pub down there," John said. A few moments later, they heard a roar of a motorcycle. They didn't have time to turn around when a sound of machine gun fire blasted behind them. John screamed and fell to the ground as if struck by lightning.

His head hit the pavement and he lay motionless. Peter turned towards the sound of a motorcycle and saw two man in black with black helmets speeding away and vanishing in busy traffic. He looked at the lifeless body of his friend. Blood was gushing out of the four holes on his back and ran onto the ground. He squatted and felt for the pulse on his wrist, but couldn't find it. Johns eyes were wide opened and stared at Peter as if asking him for an answer. He searched for the pockets of his jacket, and found a smartphone. Peter wanted to leave it there, but couldn't resist the urge to take it with him. It would certainly give him some information about John's past. In the meantime, passersby rushed from everywhere to see what happened. "I'm a doctor, " a middle-aged man said as he knelt beside him and gave John CPA, but Peter knew his friend was beyond help.
THE END
 

emsr2d2

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Would you please correct the mistakes in this very short story, which I wrote as en exercise?

As Peter was walking along a busy London street, someone squeezed his arm. He turned around and saw John's grinning face.
"I [no apostrophe here] can't believe it! John! What are you doing here?"
John placed his index finger on his mouth. "Shh! Don't speak [STRIKE]aloud[/STRIKE] so loud. I'm on a secret mission here," he smiled.
"I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you been?" (It's not clear who said this.)
"Let's go for a drink somewhere where we can speak in private." (It's not clear who said this.)

He scanned the street around for a moment and then [STRIKE]hurriedly[/STRIKE] silently [STRIKE]led[/STRIKE] hurried Peter to a side street. [STRIKE]without saying a word.[/STRIKE] Peter was eager to sit and talk with his old friend, who he hadn't seen for years. He had heard all kinds of rumours about him. People had told him John was involved in illegal businesses, from drugs and weapons to prostitutes, but you [STRIKE]couldn't[/STRIKE] can't believe rumours. He only knew that he had always liked [STRIKE]him[/STRIKE] John because [STRIKE]John[/STRIKE] he was frank and wasn't afraid to tell you what he thought of you to your face. If he didn't like you for some reason, he would simply tell you to go away and would treat you [STRIKE]like[/STRIKE] as if you were nothing. "[STRIKE]There is[/STRIKE] There's a quiet pub down there," John said. A few moments later, they heard a roar of a motorcycle. They didn't even have time to turn around when [STRIKE]a[/STRIKE] the sound of machine gun fire blasted behind them. John screamed and fell to the ground as if struck by lightning. (I don't think the underlined part is necessary.)

His head hit the pavement and he lay motionless. Peter turned towards the sound of [STRIKE]a[/STRIKE] the motorcycle and saw two [STRIKE]man[/STRIKE] men in black clothing [STRIKE]with black[/STRIKE] and helmets speeding away, [STRIKE]and[/STRIKE] before/then vanishing in busy traffic. He looked at the lifeless body of his friend. Blood was gushing out of the four holes [STRIKE]on[/STRIKE] in his back and [STRIKE]ran[/STRIKE] running/pouring onto the ground. He squatted down and felt for [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] a pulse on his wrist, but couldn't find [STRIKE]it[/STRIKE] one. John's eyes were wide [STRIKE]opened[/STRIKE] open, [STRIKE]and[/STRIKE] [STRIKE]stared[/STRIKE] staring at Peter as if asking him for an answer. He searched [STRIKE]for[/STRIKE] the pockets of [STRIKE]his[/STRIKE] John's jacket (no comma here) and found a smartphone. Peter wanted to leave it there (no comma here) but couldn't resist the urge to take it with him. It would certainly give him some information about John's past. In the meantime, passersby rushed from [STRIKE]everywhere[/STRIKE] all around to see what had happened. "I'm a doctor," said a middle-aged man [STRIKE]said[/STRIKE] as he knelt beside [STRIKE]him[/STRIKE] John and gave [STRIKE]John[/STRIKE] him [STRIKE]CPA[/STRIKE] CPR, but Peter knew his friend was beyond help.

THE END

See above. There's a lot of repetition of "he" and it's not always easy to follow whether it's Peter or John that's being referred to. I'd probably remove "on his wrist" but it's not wrong.
 
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