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?
A little park with a fountain in its centre was David's favourite haunt. He went there every morning after breakfast, and sat on a bench reading his book. Time and again, he would look up and watch the world go by. He could hear the traffic from the adjacent streets and the echo of passers-by voices and steps, but they seemed to cause him no distraction at all. He had no friends and didn't bother to make them. He was eighty three and still in good health. In his young years, he was a talented football player who was looking forward to play in the best clubs in the country, but the tragic death of his pregnant wife changed everything. David killed her and the unborn child with his reckless driving, for which he could never forgive himself. More than sixty years had passed since the incident, but he would relieve it every day. He heard the engine of his sports car speeding, he saw trees, rock faces and slopes rush by, and he breathed in Bea's sweet perfume. He heard her pleading with him to slow down, but that made him only more excited. Once he pressed the accelerator to the floor, he was in another dimension, flying through time and space.
The police would later tell him that the oil spill on a bend was not accidental but was a criminal act committed by someone evil, who had done the similar thing on three previous occasions this month. A motorcyclist was killed as he hit the spill and turned over a week before. They were trying hard to catch the culprit, but it was difficult, because the only proof they had against him was a few empty oilcans they had retrieved in the ditches. Their words were no consolation to David. Of course, he couldn’t have foreseen the oil on the road, but he shouldn’t have driven like a madman in the first place. And when the car went into a spin, he should have been more focused and think what he was doing. But he was in another world, weightless and free from constraint. When he saw a lone tree in front of him, it was too late. He couldn’t remember how long he was unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, he was wracked with pain. The front of the car was mangled, and the brown trunk he stared at through the broken windshield seemed to be teasing him and telling him, “You idiot. Who do you think you are?” He glanced at Bea, but her head hung lifeless over the dashboard, like a discarded mannequin. David removed her hair from her face and screamed in desperation when he saw blood dribble from her mouth and nose. “Bea, please don’t die!” he shouted but she couldn’t hear him anymore.
He knew on that terrible day that he would never going to kiss another woman. Bea was irreplaceable. Even if he used all his willpower and found a kindred spirit who would inundate him with her love, his mind would ignore it. It would feel like committing sacrilege of the worst kind, like pulling out his heart, or gouging out his eyes.
People told him he should carry on with football, because the game would distract him from his pain, but when he for the first time after the accident put on his boots and ran up and down the pitch, he felt like the most stupid man on earth. “You fool!” he heard a voice in his head.”Whom do you try to trick? You killed your beautiful wife and your eight-month old baby, and now you want to score more goals. Shame on you!”
TO BE CONTINUED
A little park with a fountain in its centre was David's favourite haunt. He went there every morning after breakfast, and sat on a bench reading his book. Time and again, he would look up and watch the world go by. He could hear the traffic from the adjacent streets and the echo of passers-by voices and steps, but they seemed to cause him no distraction at all. He had no friends and didn't bother to make them. He was eighty three and still in good health. In his young years, he was a talented football player who was looking forward to play in the best clubs in the country, but the tragic death of his pregnant wife changed everything. David killed her and the unborn child with his reckless driving, for which he could never forgive himself. More than sixty years had passed since the incident, but he would relieve it every day. He heard the engine of his sports car speeding, he saw trees, rock faces and slopes rush by, and he breathed in Bea's sweet perfume. He heard her pleading with him to slow down, but that made him only more excited. Once he pressed the accelerator to the floor, he was in another dimension, flying through time and space.
The police would later tell him that the oil spill on a bend was not accidental but was a criminal act committed by someone evil, who had done the similar thing on three previous occasions this month. A motorcyclist was killed as he hit the spill and turned over a week before. They were trying hard to catch the culprit, but it was difficult, because the only proof they had against him was a few empty oilcans they had retrieved in the ditches. Their words were no consolation to David. Of course, he couldn’t have foreseen the oil on the road, but he shouldn’t have driven like a madman in the first place. And when the car went into a spin, he should have been more focused and think what he was doing. But he was in another world, weightless and free from constraint. When he saw a lone tree in front of him, it was too late. He couldn’t remember how long he was unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, he was wracked with pain. The front of the car was mangled, and the brown trunk he stared at through the broken windshield seemed to be teasing him and telling him, “You idiot. Who do you think you are?” He glanced at Bea, but her head hung lifeless over the dashboard, like a discarded mannequin. David removed her hair from her face and screamed in desperation when he saw blood dribble from her mouth and nose. “Bea, please don’t die!” he shouted but she couldn’t hear him anymore.
He knew on that terrible day that he would never going to kiss another woman. Bea was irreplaceable. Even if he used all his willpower and found a kindred spirit who would inundate him with her love, his mind would ignore it. It would feel like committing sacrilege of the worst kind, like pulling out his heart, or gouging out his eyes.
People told him he should carry on with football, because the game would distract him from his pain, but when he for the first time after the accident put on his boots and ran up and down the pitch, he felt like the most stupid man on earth. “You fool!” he heard a voice in his head.”Whom do you try to trick? You killed your beautiful wife and your eight-month old baby, and now you want to score more goals. Shame on you!”
TO BE CONTINUED
