A man in the park, Part two

Status
Not open for further replies.

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 second part of my short story?

David worked with young offenders all his working life. When he was unable to help himself, he could at least help wayward young people. They were like his sons and daughters. Some of them even called him Daddy. He always tried to be helpful, avoiding conflicts at all costs and staying calm when confronted with the aggressive thugs. He would advice them to learn to love themselves because, as he used to tell them, “If you don’t love yourself, you won’t be able to love others”. They would listen in silence, hanging on his words and say that nobody had ever discussed such matters with them before. He was filled with pain, but spread hope and joy and was popular by many. On his last day on the job, there were hugs, tears and well-wishes.

After his retirement, David had a lot of time on his hands. He became a voracious reader. He wanted to know how others dealt with their sorrow and pain. How authors of fiction conveyed those feeling, which are different and subjective for every human? What psychologists and scientists said? Religious and wise men? Then he turned to the extreme experiences, testimonies of the prisoners in the Nazi death camps, the authors Primo Levi, Viktor Frankl, Witold Pilecki, Jean Améry, and many others. He read Solzhenitsyn, Shalamov and Bardach and their accounts of the life in Gulags. He wanted to vomit when he realised what people did to each other in Bosnia and Syria when they lost their humanity and were influenced by hatred. While reading all those books brimming with suffering, torture and misery, David’s pain eased. Compared with what all those people had gone through, his pain and loss were insignificant. Many of them had forgiven their torturers, but not Jean Améry, and David wondered if Bea would have forgiven him if she by a miracle could come along.

He hoped he would hear her voice telling him that everything was forgiven, but it never happened. In one of the dreams, she was in a white robe, holding hand of a little child. They were walking across the meadow while the first light of dawn shone over the hills. As they came up, she said, “David, this is your son.” David knelt on the dewy grass and looked into his large grey eyes. The child smiled. David was overwhelmed with love. “Son,” he said and stretched out his hand to touch him, but at that moment, they both vanished. He woke up with tears in his eyes and the ache in the pit of his stomach. After that, he would go to bed every evening willing to see the continuation of the dream, wanting to touch that boy and tell him how sorry he was, but Morpheus ignored his wish.

David discovered the park by chance, during one of his strolls through town. As he was trying not to bump into shoppers, youth staring at their smartphones, nervous mothers and their spoilt children, and stressful businesspersons, he heard the sound of water gurgling and went in its direction. He found the entrance in the shrubbery fence and, as he stood in front of a three-tiered fountain, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so calm. The splashing streams sparkling in the sun brightened him up, the feeling of guilt he had carried for decades eased. The scents of flowers and their bright colours invited him to sit down and take a rest. A few benches stood around the fountain, but he chose a lone one in the corner, close to the shrubbery fence. He sat down, leaned back, crossed his legs at his ankles, closed his eyes and took in all the scents and sounds. This is a miracle, he thought. I’ve never felt so relaxed before.

Then he opened the book and started reading more chapters about the suffering and pain that people inflicted on each other. After a while, he looked up and watched people strolling around: a young couple holding hands and kissing, another one teaching their toddler how to kick a ball, an old woman pushing a three-wheeled walker, and a few dogs and their owners. The thought occurred to him how harsh he had been towards himself. Instead of constantly punishing himself, he should be grateful for every moment of his life, for this glorious day, the tinkling of the fountain, the bird’s song, and all the impressions that he felt with his senses. This was the moment he had been waiting for for decades and was not sure if he would ever experience it in this life. He had finally forgiven himself.
THE END
 

teechar

Moderator
Staff member
Joined
Feb 18, 2015
Member Type
English Teacher
Native Language
English
Home Country
Iraq
Current Location
Iraq
After the accident, David decided to devote himself to working [STRIKE]ed[/STRIKE] with young offenders. [STRIKE]all his working life. When[/STRIKE] Even though he was unable to help himself, he could at least help wayward young people. They were like his sons and daughters. Some of them even [STRIKE]called[/STRIKE] viewed him as a father figure. [STRIKE]Daddy.[/STRIKE] He always tried to be helpful, avoiding conflicts at all costs and staying calm when confronted with the aggressive thugs [ Who are those - children?]. He would advise them to learn to love themselves because, as he used to tell them, “If you don’t love yourself, you won’t be able to love others”. They would listen in silence, hanging on his words and say that nobody had ever discussed such matters with them before. He was filled with pain, but spread hope and joy and was popular [STRIKE]by[/STRIKE] with many. On his last day [STRIKE]on[/STRIKE] in the job, there were hugs, tears and well-wishes.

[STRIKE]After[/STRIKE] In his retirement, David had a lot of time on his hands. He became a voracious reader. He wanted to know how others dealt with their sorrow and pain. How did authors of fiction convey those feeling, which are different and subjective for every human? What did psychologists and scientists, [STRIKE]said?[/STRIKE] religious and wise men say? Then he turned to the extreme experiences, testimonies of the prisoners in the Nazi death camps, the authors Primo Levi, Viktor Frankl, Witold Pilecki, Jean Améry, and many others. He read Solzhenitsyn, Shalamov and Bardach and their accounts of [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] life in Gulags. He wanted to vomit when he realised what people did to each other in Bosnia and Syria when they lost their humanity and were [STRIKE]influenced[/STRIKE] driven by hatred. While reading all those books brimming with suffering, torture and misery, David’s pain eased. Compared with what all those people had gone through, his pain and loss seemed rather modest.[STRIKE]were insignificant.[/STRIKE] Many of them had forgiven their torturers, but not Jean Améry, and David wondered if Bea would have forgiven him if she by a miracle could come back. [STRIKE]along.[/STRIKE]

He hoped he would hear her voice telling him that everything was forgiven, but it never happened. In one of the dreams, she was in a white robe, holding the hand of a little child. They were walking across [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] a meadow while the first light of dawn shone over the hills. As they came up, she said, “David, this is your son.” David knelt on the dewy grass and looked into his large grey eyes. The child smiled. David was overwhelmed with love. “Son,” he said and stretched out his hand to touch him, but at that moment, they both vanished. He woke up with tears in his eyes and [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] an ache in the pit of his stomach. After that, he would go to bed every evening [STRIKE]willing[/STRIKE] hoping/wishing to see the continuation of the dream, wanting to touch that boy and tell him how sorry he was, but Morpheus ignored his wish.

David discovered the park by chance, during one of his strolls through town. As he was trying [STRIKE]not to bump into[/STRIKE] the frenzied shoppers, youths staring at their smartphones, nervous mothers and their spoilt children, and stressed out [STRIKE]ful[/STRIKE] businesspersons, he heard the sound of water gurgling and went in its direction. He found the entrance in the shrubbery fence and, as he stood in front of a three-tiered fountain, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so calm. The splashing streams sparkling in the sun brightened him up, and the feeling of guilt he had carried for decades eased. The scents of flowers and their bright colours invited him to sit down and take a rest. A few benches stood around the fountain, but he chose a lone one in the corner, close to the shrubbery fence. He sat down, leaned back, crossed his legs at his ankles, closed his eyes and took in all the scents and sounds. This is a miracle, he thought. I’ve never felt so relaxed before.

Then he opened the book and started reading more chapters about the suffering and pain that people inflicted on each other. After a while, he looked up and watched people strolling around: a young couple holding hands and kissing, another [STRIKE]one[/STRIKE] two teaching their toddler how to kick a ball, an old woman pushing a three-wheeled walker, and a few dogs and their owners. The thought occurred to him how harsh he had been towards himself. Instead of constantly punishing himself, he should be grateful for every moment of his life, for this glorious day, the tinkling of the fountain, the bird’s song, and all [STRIKE]the impressions[/STRIKE] that he felt with his senses. This was the moment he had been waiting for for decades and was not sure if he would ever experience it in this life. He had finally forgiven himself.
THE END
.
 

Bassim

VIP Member
Joined
Mar 1, 2008
Member Type
Student or Learner
Native Language
Bosnian
Home Country
Bosnia Herzegovina
Current Location
Sweden
Regarding "aggressive thugs" I imagined that David had to deal violent teenagers who were sentenced to a youth custody centre. I didn't name David's precise workplace, because I believed it was not so important, but a reader could understand that he was working in some kind of youth correctional institution.
 

teechar

Moderator
Staff member
Joined
Feb 18, 2015
Member Type
English Teacher
Native Language
English
Home Country
Iraq
Current Location
Iraq
Regarding "aggressive thugs", I imagined that David had to deal with violent teenagers who were sentenced to a youth custody centre.
Then consider "(highly) violent teenagers".
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top