peter.alexi
New member
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2016
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- English
- Home Country
- Australia
- Current Location
- Australia
update: Any suggestions would be great
Hello everyone. I have just recently handed in my short story on the concept of belonging. The stimulus was “Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong”
My mark was a solid 'B'. The comment from my teacher was "good writing (which is an advantage) however the concept of belonging should have been explored in more depth".
If anyone could make some suggestions on how my story could have been improved that would be really great, as I'm not entirely sure how I could improve it. Thank you
Judged by an Angel
A storm of missiles rained from the sky, as men ran and cursed. I had seen this all before. Too many times for me to remember, it really wasn’t my job to remember. Humans never learned. They were proud, foolish, volatile creatures. And at what price? I would never understand the things people valued over life. They had far more to lose than they ever had to gain. The bombing of Japan, the battle of Waterloo and the shores of Gallipoli; the Outcome is always the same. No one has ever won war and no one ever will. Well, except for me.
I have always been feared and loathed, but I am a necessary part of life. It’s only natural for everyone to die. It doesn’t matter how, when or where, I’m not particular on details. I’m inevitable.
I was waiting on one last soul, a young man, by the name of James Sinclair. It was difficult to find him through the mass of panicked soldiers. I had met with his brother not too long ago under similar circumstances. I remember everyone I meet. James was a newlywed and a father-to-be. His letter would have been here in a couple of days with the news.
The soldiers were disheartened and worn out, surely they sensed me. Some had even longed for me. There was silence. It had seemed as though, for a moment, it was all over. But I knew better. A single gunshot shattered the air, a thunderous roar. And again I found myself confounded by another of life’s enigmas. I saw him. James Sinclair. His face was caked with grime, except for the two clean streaks running down his sunken cheeks. Molten-red blood bloomed from his chest as he pushed his comrade out of the lethal bullet’s path. He was mine before he even hit the ground.
I have never understood how humans are capable of the worse crimes on Earth, yet willing to save the life of another, at the price of their own.
His soul was light; his sacrifice was a choice he had made willingly. I looked into his memories and saw endless green paddocks, several brothers and sisters, I saw him riding a horse and a beautiful woman walk down the aisle. She was his final thought. I saw his hopes and dreams; to one day be a father, return from war and grow old surrounded by family. He was a simple farmer.
His actions intrigued me. I asked him, why? Was it out of guilt? Hope? Or was it just plain instinct? But James just smiled and shook his head, looking down at his comrades. “To feel human again” he answered, “Don’t judge them too harshly, we’re far from perfect”. Was he right? Deep down I think I had known all along. Had all these years clouded my perception of humans? Maybe I had misjudged humans, holding them to very high standards. It had taken a brave farm boy for me to realise.
I don’t know how long we stood together in silence, watching the destruction before us, before we had to leave. James nodded and looked back one last time. He was ready to move on. There was no doubt I would be back though.
Humans are flawed and complex. But wherever there is a human being there is also an opportunity for something great. Humanity is a work in process and who am I to judge? This world is for the living, not the dead.
Hello everyone. I have just recently handed in my short story on the concept of belonging. The stimulus was “Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong”
My mark was a solid 'B'. The comment from my teacher was "good writing (which is an advantage) however the concept of belonging should have been explored in more depth".
If anyone could make some suggestions on how my story could have been improved that would be really great, as I'm not entirely sure how I could improve it. Thank you
Judged by an Angel
A storm of missiles rained from the sky, as men ran and cursed. I had seen this all before. Too many times for me to remember, it really wasn’t my job to remember. Humans never learned. They were proud, foolish, volatile creatures. And at what price? I would never understand the things people valued over life. They had far more to lose than they ever had to gain. The bombing of Japan, the battle of Waterloo and the shores of Gallipoli; the Outcome is always the same. No one has ever won war and no one ever will. Well, except for me.
I have always been feared and loathed, but I am a necessary part of life. It’s only natural for everyone to die. It doesn’t matter how, when or where, I’m not particular on details. I’m inevitable.
I was waiting on one last soul, a young man, by the name of James Sinclair. It was difficult to find him through the mass of panicked soldiers. I had met with his brother not too long ago under similar circumstances. I remember everyone I meet. James was a newlywed and a father-to-be. His letter would have been here in a couple of days with the news.
The soldiers were disheartened and worn out, surely they sensed me. Some had even longed for me. There was silence. It had seemed as though, for a moment, it was all over. But I knew better. A single gunshot shattered the air, a thunderous roar. And again I found myself confounded by another of life’s enigmas. I saw him. James Sinclair. His face was caked with grime, except for the two clean streaks running down his sunken cheeks. Molten-red blood bloomed from his chest as he pushed his comrade out of the lethal bullet’s path. He was mine before he even hit the ground.
I have never understood how humans are capable of the worse crimes on Earth, yet willing to save the life of another, at the price of their own.
His soul was light; his sacrifice was a choice he had made willingly. I looked into his memories and saw endless green paddocks, several brothers and sisters, I saw him riding a horse and a beautiful woman walk down the aisle. She was his final thought. I saw his hopes and dreams; to one day be a father, return from war and grow old surrounded by family. He was a simple farmer.
His actions intrigued me. I asked him, why? Was it out of guilt? Hope? Or was it just plain instinct? But James just smiled and shook his head, looking down at his comrades. “To feel human again” he answered, “Don’t judge them too harshly, we’re far from perfect”. Was he right? Deep down I think I had known all along. Had all these years clouded my perception of humans? Maybe I had misjudged humans, holding them to very high standards. It had taken a brave farm boy for me to realise.
I don’t know how long we stood together in silence, watching the destruction before us, before we had to leave. James nodded and looked back one last time. He was ready to move on. There was no doubt I would be back though.
Humans are flawed and complex. But wherever there is a human being there is also an opportunity for something great. Humanity is a work in process and who am I to judge? This world is for the living, not the dead.
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