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 my mistakes in the seventh part of my short story?
The evening was quiet, disturbed occasionally by the wailing of the police and ambulances' sirens, but Paul was too upset and didn't get a wink of sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of the river while his mind was in turmoil. Hungry, mentally and physically exhausted, he felt he was falling into an abyss from which there was no return. He didn't know to whom he should turn for help and where he could find a clean bed on which he could spend a couple of days, sleeping like a baby. He looked at the huddled wild ducks and thought how happy and satisfied they must be. Everything they needed they could find in the river and on its banks. They didn't have great expectations, didn't make grand plans for the future and didn't need to travel abroad to get some entertainment or drink themselves blind at the weekends to forget their miserable lives. Who knows, maybe they didn't have a high opinion of humans either and thought we were stupid and were chasing the future instead of living in the present.
In the early morning, he watched commuters on their bicycles, in their cars and on foot hurry over the bridge to the train and bus stations. In the opposite direction was passing a similar procession, workers who were arriving from the neighbouring towns and villages. Those people probably met on that bridge hundreds of times, without greeting one another because their minds were focused on other things, like if they were going to find vacant seats, or where they were going to park their cars, or how they were going to return home if their bicycles were stolen again.
His stomach emitted another plaintive groan, and Paul got up and went to the bakery, where he bought two cheese baguettes and a bottle of fruit yogurt. He went back to his place beside the wild ducks and ate with relish. The ducks suddenly became animated and quacked, giving him expectant glances, so he tore a chunk of bread off the baguette and tossed it to them. It gave him satisfaction to watched them devour it between them as quick as lighting. Paul wished he had bought more bread to feed them.
He sat for a while, thinking what to do next. He had to act before had he completely lost his mind. His eyes wandered along the opposite riverbank until he saw a builder climb a scaffolding on a building in construction. Soon, the pounding of a hammer rang in his ears. Paul rose as if in trance. He didn't feel exhausted or anxious any more. He went straight to a hardware store. He picked up a hammer, a pair of safety glasses, a pair of gloves and a cap. The cashier at the check-out gave him a bright smile. He thought if she knew what he was going to do now, she wouldn't be so kind to him.
Paul walked to the high street, where shops just started to open. He drew the gloves out of the plastic bag and pulled them on. He put on the glasses and the cap. He was calm as never before. He stepped to a large shop window of a well-known clothing brand and took the hammer out of the bag and held it firmly in his hand. He swung the hammer and hit the pane. It sounded like a shot. He was astonished what a large hole it made. He immediately struck the second and the third and the forth. The shards flew around him, but the safety glasses did their job. He heard people screaming hysterically and running away from him. Someone shouted "Terrorist!" But he didn't care. His eyes saw only shoo windows and nothing more. This was his only chance. He knew that the police would need eight to ten minutes to arrive, so he had to hurry up. The more damage he would cause, the longer prison sentence would be, and that meant more days of good sleep.
He heard the wailing of police cars, and that gave him more strength. In that moment, he could kill a bear with one blow. Years of working out in a gym showed now its benefit. He was drenched in sweat and thirsty, but his arms and hands were indefatigable.
"Police! Throw away the hammer! Hands up!" He heard a sharp woman's voice. He threw the hammer aside and glanced behind him. He was astonished how short she was. Two other police officers at her sides were like giants compered with her. She pointed her gun at him and ordered him to stand with his legs apart and look in front of him. Paul wanted to kiss her and tell her she was his saviour. He felt a pair of hands searching his clothes. Another pair pulled his hands behind his back and handcuffed them. He was overcome with relief. He would have a long and safe sleep in custody--the luckiest prisoner in the country.
THE END
The evening was quiet, disturbed occasionally by the wailing of the police and ambulances' sirens, but Paul was too upset and didn't get a wink of sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of the river while his mind was in turmoil. Hungry, mentally and physically exhausted, he felt he was falling into an abyss from which there was no return. He didn't know to whom he should turn for help and where he could find a clean bed on which he could spend a couple of days, sleeping like a baby. He looked at the huddled wild ducks and thought how happy and satisfied they must be. Everything they needed they could find in the river and on its banks. They didn't have great expectations, didn't make grand plans for the future and didn't need to travel abroad to get some entertainment or drink themselves blind at the weekends to forget their miserable lives. Who knows, maybe they didn't have a high opinion of humans either and thought we were stupid and were chasing the future instead of living in the present.
In the early morning, he watched commuters on their bicycles, in their cars and on foot hurry over the bridge to the train and bus stations. In the opposite direction was passing a similar procession, workers who were arriving from the neighbouring towns and villages. Those people probably met on that bridge hundreds of times, without greeting one another because their minds were focused on other things, like if they were going to find vacant seats, or where they were going to park their cars, or how they were going to return home if their bicycles were stolen again.
His stomach emitted another plaintive groan, and Paul got up and went to the bakery, where he bought two cheese baguettes and a bottle of fruit yogurt. He went back to his place beside the wild ducks and ate with relish. The ducks suddenly became animated and quacked, giving him expectant glances, so he tore a chunk of bread off the baguette and tossed it to them. It gave him satisfaction to watched them devour it between them as quick as lighting. Paul wished he had bought more bread to feed them.
He sat for a while, thinking what to do next. He had to act before had he completely lost his mind. His eyes wandered along the opposite riverbank until he saw a builder climb a scaffolding on a building in construction. Soon, the pounding of a hammer rang in his ears. Paul rose as if in trance. He didn't feel exhausted or anxious any more. He went straight to a hardware store. He picked up a hammer, a pair of safety glasses, a pair of gloves and a cap. The cashier at the check-out gave him a bright smile. He thought if she knew what he was going to do now, she wouldn't be so kind to him.
Paul walked to the high street, where shops just started to open. He drew the gloves out of the plastic bag and pulled them on. He put on the glasses and the cap. He was calm as never before. He stepped to a large shop window of a well-known clothing brand and took the hammer out of the bag and held it firmly in his hand. He swung the hammer and hit the pane. It sounded like a shot. He was astonished what a large hole it made. He immediately struck the second and the third and the forth. The shards flew around him, but the safety glasses did their job. He heard people screaming hysterically and running away from him. Someone shouted "Terrorist!" But he didn't care. His eyes saw only shoo windows and nothing more. This was his only chance. He knew that the police would need eight to ten minutes to arrive, so he had to hurry up. The more damage he would cause, the longer prison sentence would be, and that meant more days of good sleep.
He heard the wailing of police cars, and that gave him more strength. In that moment, he could kill a bear with one blow. Years of working out in a gym showed now its benefit. He was drenched in sweat and thirsty, but his arms and hands were indefatigable.
"Police! Throw away the hammer! Hands up!" He heard a sharp woman's voice. He threw the hammer aside and glanced behind him. He was astonished how short she was. Two other police officers at her sides were like giants compered with her. She pointed her gun at him and ordered him to stand with his legs apart and look in front of him. Paul wanted to kiss her and tell her she was his saviour. He felt a pair of hands searching his clothes. Another pair pulled his hands behind his back and handcuffed them. He was overcome with relief. He would have a long and safe sleep in custody--the luckiest prisoner in the country.
THE END