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 this short text? I looked up the word "lay" in a dictionary, and then the sentences came up in my mind. This is just an exercise.
At the funeral of his colleague Jim, Peter laid his hand on the shoulder of his widow, Hannah.
"I'm sorry," he said and shook her hand. "Jim was a great man. I've known him for more than twenty years."
Hannah, all dressed in black, scoffed. "You believed you knew him. Many did. Only I know what kind of a man he was. He was a swine wearing a mask of kindness."
Jim winced as if bitten by a wasp. "Is that true?" he said.
"Have you ever seen him drunk?" Hannah asked.
Peter shook his head. "No."
"When he was drunk, he metamorphosed into a monster. He bit me black and blue. I often had to wear sunglasses to hide the bruises and in summer, I sometimes wore long sleeves and long skirts because my limbs were black from beatings. I had spent many nights with my neighbours or outside, walking through the streets while waiting for him to sober up."
Jim's face contorted with pain, as if he himself was going through the same ordeal. "But why didn't you leave him?"
"Because of our children. My parents divorced when I was little, I didn't want them to experience the same distress. And when they grew older, I didn't have the courage and energy to take that final step. I probably got used to being beaten and abused. I prayed night after night that he would become gravely ill, but God didn't answer my prayers until two years ago when he got cancer. He had believed to be invincible, the archaeology Professor Jim Johnson, the expert in Ancient Egypt. I read his obituaries in national papers and laughed. You got an impression they were describing a saint. 'Leaving behind a wife and two children. A great loss for academia. Studious, erudite, witty...' I wrote his obituary in my mind, which was, of course, completely opposite, and I toyed with the idea of calling the same papers and tell them my side of the story, which I never did. But I got my revenge anyway as I watched him dying slowly and in pain. At least he used morphine, which I couldn't when I was in pain, but no amount of it seemed to be sufficient. He feared death."
They stood together and watched Jim's coffin on a trolley quickly sliding into the furnace to the sounds of Palestrina's Stabat Mater. Everything was automatic, efficient, fast and with a minimal loss of heat. After a few minutes, a sixty-eight-old body turned into ashes, and Professor Johnson passed into history.
They held each other's hands in silence, looking at each other. Her eyes were large and green and made his heart tremble. She was in her fifties, but her face was without any wrinkles. He had desire to kiss her right there in front of the mourners and his husband's ashes. He wanted to tell her that the black hat looked good on her fair face and hair The thumping of his heart became louder, and he wondered if she could hear it too. He had just discovered a gem, more important than any archaeological discovery he had ever made. He opened his wallet, picked up his business card and gave it to her. "If there is anything I can help, please don't hesitate," he said. She held it in his gloved hand, read from it for a few seconds and then put it in her handbag. She nodded and gave him a smile. This was a good sign. They understood each other.
At the funeral of his colleague Jim, Peter laid his hand on the shoulder of his widow, Hannah.
"I'm sorry," he said and shook her hand. "Jim was a great man. I've known him for more than twenty years."
Hannah, all dressed in black, scoffed. "You believed you knew him. Many did. Only I know what kind of a man he was. He was a swine wearing a mask of kindness."
Jim winced as if bitten by a wasp. "Is that true?" he said.
"Have you ever seen him drunk?" Hannah asked.
Peter shook his head. "No."
"When he was drunk, he metamorphosed into a monster. He bit me black and blue. I often had to wear sunglasses to hide the bruises and in summer, I sometimes wore long sleeves and long skirts because my limbs were black from beatings. I had spent many nights with my neighbours or outside, walking through the streets while waiting for him to sober up."
Jim's face contorted with pain, as if he himself was going through the same ordeal. "But why didn't you leave him?"
"Because of our children. My parents divorced when I was little, I didn't want them to experience the same distress. And when they grew older, I didn't have the courage and energy to take that final step. I probably got used to being beaten and abused. I prayed night after night that he would become gravely ill, but God didn't answer my prayers until two years ago when he got cancer. He had believed to be invincible, the archaeology Professor Jim Johnson, the expert in Ancient Egypt. I read his obituaries in national papers and laughed. You got an impression they were describing a saint. 'Leaving behind a wife and two children. A great loss for academia. Studious, erudite, witty...' I wrote his obituary in my mind, which was, of course, completely opposite, and I toyed with the idea of calling the same papers and tell them my side of the story, which I never did. But I got my revenge anyway as I watched him dying slowly and in pain. At least he used morphine, which I couldn't when I was in pain, but no amount of it seemed to be sufficient. He feared death."
They stood together and watched Jim's coffin on a trolley quickly sliding into the furnace to the sounds of Palestrina's Stabat Mater. Everything was automatic, efficient, fast and with a minimal loss of heat. After a few minutes, a sixty-eight-old body turned into ashes, and Professor Johnson passed into history.
They held each other's hands in silence, looking at each other. Her eyes were large and green and made his heart tremble. She was in her fifties, but her face was without any wrinkles. He had desire to kiss her right there in front of the mourners and his husband's ashes. He wanted to tell her that the black hat looked good on her fair face and hair The thumping of his heart became louder, and he wondered if she could hear it too. He had just discovered a gem, more important than any archaeological discovery he had ever made. He opened his wallet, picked up his business card and gave it to her. "If there is anything I can help, please don't hesitate," he said. She held it in his gloved hand, read from it for a few seconds and then put it in her handbag. She nodded and gave him a smile. This was a good sign. They understood each other.
