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Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
Casey98:
Hey there!
If you get a chance, could you please mark my Creative Writing piece? My teachers have given us the stimulus that will be used in our half-yearly exam, so it's based off that.
Thanks in advance!
- Casey
elysepopplewell:
--- Quote from: Casey98 on March 14, 2016, 06:13:00 pm ---Hey there!
If you get a chance, could you please mark my Creative Writing piece? My teachers have given us the stimulus that will be used in our half-yearly exam, so it's based off that.
Thanks in advance!
- Casey
--- End quote ---
Alright, this is an interesting stimulus Casey!
I'm going to attach your original creative right here in a spoiler: Spoiler“Please? With a cherry on top?” I chuckled at her new favourite phrase; it was the fourth time I had heard her say it since she had arrived. I attempted to stand my ground, but she gazed at me with those wide eyes, those beautiful, blue eyes…
They were so much like her grandfather’s, how could I argue with her?
“Fine, go ahead Nessie.” I sighed dramatically as she giggled and ran to the ladder. After all, I had made this promise: on her 6th birthday, I would allow her to enter the “mystery room in the roof”. I heaved my frail body up the ladder behind her, beginning to mentally prepare myself.
Before I even reached the attic, I could hear her coughing and spluttering. I arrived to see a cloud of dust arising from the box she was already opening- it must’ve been at least 15 years since anyone had been up here. I stood frozen at the entrance, inhaling the musty smell of the past; taking in the cardboard boxes filled with old memories. The room, which was dimly lit by a single, flickering light bulb in the middle of the ceiling, had been left untouched since he left. I silently took a seat in the rickety rocking chair in the corner, my sweating hands resting in my lap.
I was shortly approached by a laughing figure clothed in a red, oversized coat, a fancy floral hat and glistening high-heeled shoes. I recognised the clothes immediately- Nessie was dressed in my favourite winter coat; the one I always wore to Estelle’s for dinner. My, it had been such a long time since I had seen Estelle…
As Nessie danced among the boxes, twirling around in the coat, I began to relax. I could see her cheeky grin underneath the floppy hat as she continued to explore, occasionally squealing with delight. As my eyelids grew heavy, I drifted off to sleep.
“Grandma! Look!”
Awoken by Nessie’s excitement, I turned my head to the far corner of the room.
“I can draw like you!”
Her blue eyes glowed as she gestured towards the picture she had drawn on the side of a cardboard box. She sat in the middle of her mess: a combination of paint brushes, pencils and artists’ charcoal covering the floor. A beautiful painting rested in her lap, but this painting wasn’t mine.
I felt my body begin to shake as, for the first time in many years, I studied its once-vibrant colours. Although faded, the painting still held its elegance- he had perfectly captured the beauty of the simple landscape. I recalled him sitting in his rocking chair on the balcony that delightful spring afternoon, painting that lone tree- the one that we had planted many years beforehand. He was so engrossed in his work; I had frightened him when I walked over. But when he raised his head, he looked at me with those shining blue eyes, the same ones that were staring at me from the floor.
Our time together had been amazing. As a young couple, we shared every night: going out to fancy restaurants, or simply laying on the sofa, eating pizza and watching television. As our family grew, he was always by my side. Nessie’s father was a little rascal- he’d chase the young boy all the time, out into the backyard, where they’d wrestle and play.
It wasn’t always easy. As we grew older, he began to stress about our financial position- he wanted so desperately to give us everything he could. I often wouldn’t see him for days at a time as he continued to work long hours, but while we sometimes grew distant, we never disconnected. I remembered the sweet softness of his lips as he gently kissed my forehead while I fell asleep; he’d always kiss me when he came home late from work.
He never finished that painting.
I remembered the loss, the numbness, the cold skin as I held his hand, the piercing sound that penetrated my ears when the monitor flat lined. The tears that dripped down my cheeks, the flurry of doctors and nurses that entered the room, the tangle of wires and tubes covering his body. It was all too much.
“Nessie, pass me the painting. Go downstairs and show Daddy your fancy hat.”
After she had silently climbed down the ladder, clearly sensing something was wrong, I carefully assessed the image. He had created an ideal scene; a perfect world. A world without loss and pain. But is life ever that perfect? Even when he was here, we faced hardship and suffering.
Looking at this perfect painting made me realise that since his death, I had been trying to replicate this fantasy world in my own life. I had tried so hard to repress the pain for all of these years; to create a world where there was no loss. But now, looking at this perfect painting, I realised that these emotions were simply waiting to consume me.
As the painting fell out of my shaking hands, I broke down and cried.
Now, I'll put another spoiler here, this is your creative with my own comments in bold.
Spoiler“Please? With a cherry on top?” I chuckled at her new favourite phrase; it was the fourth time I had heard her say it since she had arrived. I attempted to stand my ground, but she gazed at me with those wide eyes, those beautiful, blue eyes…
They were so much like her grandfather’s, how could I argue with her? I'd prefer this sentence broken. Replace the comma with a full stop and capitalise the H. This isn't because it is incorrect, but the two separate sentences make each more distinct.
“Fine, go ahead Nessie.” I sighed dramatically (Many famous writers suggest that to improve work, they avoid using an adverb after the verb of expression (said, sighed, laughed, etc). So what you're saying isn't incorrect, but can be improved. Try finding a verb that encapsulates exactly what you are trying to achieve from the verb and adverb combined. Perhaps, relinquished, surrender...) as she giggled and ran to the ladder. After all, I had made this promise: on her 6th birthday, I would allow her to enter the “mystery room in the roof”. I heaved my frail body (Suddenly, the grandfather's eyes reference doesn't seem too distant. I suspect that this person is elderly too) up the ladder behind her, beginning to mentally prepare myself.
Before I even reached the attic, I could hear her coughing and spluttering. I arrived to see a cloud of dust arising from the box she was already opening- it must’ve been at least 15 years since anyone had been up here. I stood frozen at the entrance, inhaling the musty smell of the past; taking in the cardboard boxes filled with old memories. The room, which was dimly lit by a single, flickering light bulb in the middle of the ceiling, had been left untouched since he left. I silently took a seat in the rickety rocking chair in the corner, my sweating hands resting in my lap.
I have italicised three things from the above paragraph. Why? They are cliches. I recommend that you avoid cliches as much as possible in creative writing, because you want to leave the impression on the marker that you are a creative, innovative writer, rather than one who relies on common expressions. Of course, cliches are well known because they are so accurate in describing something! So just start by trying to exchange one word in the expression for synonym. Your work isn't bad because of it, please note!! I'm just suggesting a way to elevate it :) Also - at this stage I have a really good image in my head of what is going on. So that's awesome!
I was shortly approached by a laughing figure clothed in a red, oversized coat, a fancy floral hat and glistening high-heeled shoes. I recognised the clothes immediately- Nessie was dressed in my favourite winter coat; the one I always wore to Estelle’s for dinner. My, it had been such a long time since I had seen Estelle…
As Nessie danced among the boxes, twirling around in the coat, I began to relax. I could see her cheeky grin underneath the floppy hat as she continued to explore, occasionally squealing with delight. As my eyelids grew heavy, I drifted off to sleep.
“Grandma! Look!”
Awoken by Nessie’s excitement, I turned my head to the far corner of the room.
“I can draw like you!”
Her blue eyes glowed as she gestured towards the picture she had drawn on the side of a cardboard box. She sat in the middle of her mess: a combination of paint brushes, pencils and artists’ charcoal covering the floor. A beautiful painting rested in her lap, but this painting wasn’t mine.
I felt my body begin to shake as, for the first time in many years, I studied its once-vibrant colours. Although faded, the painting still held its elegance- he had perfectly captured the beauty of the simple landscape. I recalled him sitting in his rocking chair on the balcony that delightful spring afternoon, (This is a bit of cliche. You've shown some awesome imagery here, you can find a more unique word choice that "delightful spring.." Again, you won't lose marks for this. This is a really good creative so I'm actually digging deep here to find things to improve! painting that lone tree- the one that we had planted many years beforehand. He was so engrossed in his work; I had frightened him when I walked over. But when he raised his head, he looked at me with those shining blue eyes, the same ones that were staring at me from the floor.
Our time together had been amazing. As a young couple, we shared every night: going out to fancy restaurants, or simply laying on the sofa, eating pizza and watching television. I'm curious about how old this couple is. If he has already died, I'm assuming they are reasonably old. Many grandparents of our generation didn't have televisions or pizza culture readily available. So just for textual detailing, I suggest that you change this to something linked to the era. As our family grew, he was always by my side. Nessie’s father was a little rascal- he’d chase the young boy all the time, out into the backyard, where they’d wrestle and play.
It wasn’t always easy. As we grew older, he began to stress about our financial position- he wanted so desperately to give us everything he could. I often wouldn’t see him for days at a time as he continued to work long hours, but while we sometimes grew distant, we never disconnected. I remembered the sweet softness of his lips as he gently kissed my forehead while I fell asleep; he’d always kiss me when he came home late from work.
He never finished that painting.
I remembered the loss, the numbness, the cold skin as I held his hand, the piercing sound that penetrated my ears when the monitor flat lined. The tears that dripped down my cheeks, the flurry of doctors and nurses that entered the room, the tangle of wires and tubes covering his body. It was all too much.
“Nessie, pass me the painting. Go downstairs and show Daddy your fancy hat.”
After she had silently climbed down the ladder, clearly sensing something was wrong, I carefully assessed the image. He had created an ideal scene; a perfect world. A world without loss and pain. But is life ever that perfect? Even when he was here, we faced hardship and suffering.
Looking at this perfect painting made me realise that since his death, I had been trying to replicate this fantasy world in my own life. I had tried so hard to repress the pain for all of these years; to create a world where there was no loss. But now, looking at this perfect painting, I realised that these emotions were simply waiting to consume me.
As the painting fell out of my shaking hands, I broke down and cried.
This is a really cool story. I mean, grammatically there is hardly anything to correct so that's great. The discovery is really clear as well. I'm going to propose something to you though, for the occasion that the stimulus in a future exam means that you need to tweak the ending. You can also absolutely end the story with a kind of discovery about loss. You end on the note of personal emotions - totally fine! That's an emotional discovery. But you could also resolve the story in a way that you realise the loss of a life actually a gain - because you gain wisdom, independence, personal growth, etc. If that makes sense? I'm only mentioning this because your story is really spot on, so this is just a potential extension that you should consider in case you do need it in a future exam! Otherwise, my main advice is working on the word choice of the areas I pointed out, just so that you don't fall into a cliche and instead, your work looks really unique!
Good luck!
elysepopplewell:
--- Quote from: WLalex on March 15, 2016, 04:29:58 pm ---Hi, hoping you could take a look at my AOS creative writing, my teacher seems to really like it with not much criticism so was hoping to get a second opinion and see where i am roughly sitting in terms of marks.
Thanks, i have attached it below
--- End quote ---
Hey there!
I have had a go at marking this. However, I would like to know if you could post this as a word document or just copy and paste the text into a comment here. The reason being, when I've copied and pasted it from the PDF to make comments on, the lines move and I can't actually see where you've used paragraphs. It became to difficult to mark this way, so if you can post it back through word or by copy and pasting, I'll be able to access it easier and give you better feedback (structure included). Thank you!
Casey98:
--- Quote from: elysepopplewell on March 16, 2016, 04:28:02 pm ---This is a really cool story. I mean, grammatically there is hardly anything to correct so that's great. The discovery is really clear as well. I'm going to propose something to you though, for the occasion that the stimulus in a future exam means that you need to tweak the ending. You can also absolutely end the story with a kind of discovery about loss. You end on the note of personal emotions - totally fine! That's an emotional discovery. But you could also resolve the story in a way that you realise the loss of a life actually a gain - because you gain wisdom, independence, personal growth, etc. If that makes sense? I'm only mentioning this because your story is really spot on, so this is just a potential extension that you should consider in case you do need it in a future exam! Otherwise, my main advice is working on the word choice of the areas I pointed out, just so that you don't fall into a cliche and instead, your work looks really unique!
Good luck![/b]
--- End quote ---
Thanks so much for your feedback Elyse, it's been really helpful! (I sent the same story to my teacher and got the "hmm.... it's nice" response, which is always good to hear, but not exactly constructive!) Stay awesome :)
elysepopplewell:
--- Quote from: WLalex on March 16, 2016, 09:59:23 pm ---No problem, here it is! Thanks
--- End quote ---
Thanks for that. Already I'm seeing this is going to be so much easier! When I pasted it in from the PDF there were no paragraphs, so this is great!
Your original: SpoilerOnce the news had broke, Mrs. Maddox wept.
She wept around the presence of her brother who patted her back and her husband’s friend, Arthur, who stood near. “If you need anything, anything at all,” Arthur spoke with unease, or maybe he just spoke in an attempt that his words would fill the limitless space between them. Abby simply wept, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her own arms. Her brother hadn’t spoke since he broke the news in jumbled sentences; half revealing, half concealing. It was Arthur who had been there, pulled the emergency alarm, panicked, sent the rescue team who did no rescuing. It was Arthur who received the three names, pictured the families, the wives, the children. Pictured Mrs. Maddox after the name Travis Maddox appeared before his eyes.
Unlike most, Abby did not question the inevitability of her husband’s death, did not throw her arms or fall to the floor on her knees praying to God that it wasn’t true. Did not argue in denial. She simply wept until the storm had spent itself.
***
Travis eyed Abby with an aura of confidence that obliterated the space between them. Abby, drink in hand, felt compelled to the tall, dark handsome man as she let her eyes dance between him and her group of friends.
“Ooo, he’s cute, go talk to him,” Meg paraded as she nudged Abby enough to cause her to stumble back onto her right foot, feeling lucky that the inch of shoe that actually hit hit the ground were enough to save her.
“Mmm, yeah he is, you’ve got to make your move at least one of the times we go out, that’s what makes it fun,” Katie obliviously pointed in his direction, holding two empty drinks in her hand.
Abby could feel the redness swell in her cheeks, “I can’t guys, I'm not like you.”
“Sure you are,” Meg replied as she pushed an unknown drink into Katie’s belly with such a force that it rode up the sides like a slippery dip, only millimetres away from crashing into Abby’s sheer, white top.
Abby leant against the bar as she observed how Travis beamed as if he were the centre show, with all four of his friends captivated by his performance. As he threw his hands up in a dramatic representation, they all laughed and Abby caught herself smiling.
Travis turned and the two were seemingly caught face to face, as if they had bumped into each other on the street. Abby spun, causing a sudden rush of vertigo, as she ordered another drink in an attempt to look busy.
Drinking, you’d think Abby had just finished a marathon as she depleted the contents in front of her. Turning her eyes, not her body, her image was filled with the close up of a white buttoned down t-shirt, the top button undone, exposing the slightest array of chest hair.
“Hi, I’m Travis,” he smiled, as his confidence now radiated into Abby.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Abby,” she said, causing a school-yard grin to consume her face.
“Want to get out of here, grab a bite to eat or something?” Travis has already started to move towards the exit, clearly a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
Abby nodded and innocently began to follow.
Travis placed the tips of his fingers on Abby’s lower back in a way that made her heat up inside.
***
Abby was young, with a fair, pure face which shone underneath the downpour of light which surrounded the room. Her husband had since flown from her in the presence of tears.
As Abby sat, unmoving, on the orange suede sofa she had once shared with Travis, her brother brought her a glass of water in an attempt to stir the stale air that the three of them existed in. Accepting the water, she did not drink it.
It was Arthur who made the first move, “You know,” he began saying as he reached for his back pocket, “I have this picture of Travis and I, when we first began working together, around the time the two of you met,” his fingers held a small picture he had retracted from his wallet as he leaned over to give it to Abby.
“I want you to have it.”
She stared at the piece of paper for a long time before announcing, “He looks happy.”
Abby counted backwards in time and concluded that this photo must have been taken 6 years ago, or 1 year before they had met. It was evident as she saw the man she fell for smiling back at her, she saw the same burning copper eyes as she had at the bar, the eyes that spoke of confidence, dedication, commitment. She thought of herself at this time, 6 years ago, she would have just finished her business degree. She placed the photo facedown and slid the photo back towards Arthur, thanking him for his kind gesture.
***
Mr and Mrs Maddox laughed as they manoeuvred their brand new orange sofa through the door of their two bedroom home.
“How good is this!” Travis exclaimed as he looked around their newly-renovated living room.
“You know..” Travis began as he creeped close to Mrs. Maddox, “you don't have to find a new job now..I’ve got it covered,” he boasted as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
Abby stepped away from his grip, “I thought we spoke about this, I want to work,” she spoke silently as she looked to the ground below her.
“But you don't have to!” Travis threw his arms as does when he is passionate about something.
“I know I don't have to, but I want to”
Now that Travis paced around the room, Mrs. Maddox hoped he would not break anything.
“Why would you want to, you can stay here and do anything you want, I'm allowing you to.”
Travis’ face seemed to absorb the redness which had seeped out of his wife’s as he opened and closed pantry doors, in such a rush that he could not even see what was inside.
“Where is all the food in this house! You cant even manage to look after the house when you aren't working.”
Mrs Maddox swallowed back the tears that seemed to be pushing her eyeballs out of her head.
She approached him slowly, “You’re right, you’re right, I don’t need to work,” she assured him as she convinced herself, he was right. It would all work out.
“I’m going to go and do some shopping now, okay?” Mrs. Maddox cautiously asked her husband.
“Okay, thank you” he replied as his breathing came back down to a normal pace and the tips off his fingers lingered on her arm for just long enough to make her hair stand up.
Before leaving, Mrs. Maddox stared into the hollow barrel of her own eyes as they appeared in front of her, convincing herself that the person she saw before her was smiling.
***
Abby’s heart smiled despite the sympathetic looks that never left the faces of Arthur and her brother. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and despite her eyelids covering her vision, she could see pictures of happiness, of freedom.
And yet she had loved him.
Often she had not.
Though no one knew, Mr. Maddox replaced Abby with Mrs. Maddox.
“So, I know there are a lot of way people deal with loss…I know when my Uncle died, my Aunty took up knitting as a way to…” Abby cut Arthur off before he could continue any more.
“I think I'm going to start looking for work, I can’t stay in this house all day.”
Arthur and her brother shared a surprised look.
“That sounds like a great idea, sis,” her brother rose and embraced her in a tight, reassuring hug.
“If you guys don’t mind, I would like to be alone for a bit.”
“Of course, don't mind us” Arthur said as both the men took a couple of steps to the door.
One final tear relinquished itself from her right eye as she closed the door on Arthur, closed the door on her husband. She was a widow. She smiled.
Your story now, with my edited in bold writing:
Spoiler
Once the news had broke, Mrs. Maddox wept. The italicised part here isn't technically incorrect, to my understanding, but if I'm being really fussy, you either use "broke" or "had broken" and not "had broke." Such a small fussy thing I know, but seeing as your teacher didn't have much criticism, I'll try dig to find you stuff :)
She wept around the presence of her brother who patted her back and her husband’s friend, Arthur, who stood near. “If you need anything, anything at all,” Arthur spoke with unease, or maybe he just spoke in an attempt that his words would fill the limitless space between them. Abby simply wept, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her own arms. Her brother hadn’t spoke since he broke the news in jumbled sentences; half revealing, half concealing. It was Arthur who had been there, pulled the emergency alarm, panicked and sent the rescue team who did no rescuing. It was Arthur who received the three names, pictured the families, the wives, the children. Pictured Mrs. Maddox after the name Travis Maddox appeared before his eyes. This last sentence isn't correct in form. You need a noun to specify who or what "pictured."
Unlike most, Abby did not question the inevitability of her husband’s death, did not throw her arms or fall to the floor on her knees praying to God that it wasn’t true. Did not argue in denial. She simply wept until the storm had spent itself.
***
Travis eyed Abby with an aura of confidence that obliterated the space between them. Abby, drink in hand, felt compelled to the tall, dark handsome man as she let her eyes dance between him and her group of friends. What I LOVE about this sentence is the last part. The dancing eyes, that's wonderful. What dampens the sentence for me personally is the description of "tall, dark handsome." It is because it is such a common ideal that many women have for men, in that exact description. Instead, even describing that he had long hair or short hair or something to that effect - or even something way way unique - that would make the sentence really stand out.
“Ooo, he’s cute, go talk to him,” Meg paraded as she nudged Abby enough to cause her to stumble back onto her right foot, feeling lucky that the inch of shoe that actually hit hit (accidentally typed twice :)) the ground were enough to save her.
“Mmm, yeah he is, you’ve got to make your move at least one of the times we go out, that’s what makes it fun,” Katie obliviously pointed in his direction, holding two empty drinks in her hand.
Abby could feel the redness swell in her cheeks, “I can’t guys, I'm not like you.”
“Sure you are,” Meg replied as she pushed an unknown drink into Katie’s belly with such a force that it rode up the sides like a slippery dip, only millimetres away from crashing into Abby’s sheer, white top.
Abby leant There is a debate amongst grammar lovers regarding the use of leant or leaned. Leaned is used 10x more than leant, but it is American English technically. However, it is used far more than leant outside of America as well. It is up to you, of course, seeing as both are correct. But I just thought I'd pop that in here :) against the bar as she observed how Travis beamed as if he were the centre show, with all four of his friends captivated by his performance. As he threw his hands up in a dramatic representation, they all laughed and Abby caught herself smiling.
Travis turned and the two were seemingly caught face to face, as if they had bumped into each other on the street. Abby spun, causing a sudden rush of vertigo, as she ordered another drink in an attempt to look busy.
Drinking, you’d think Abby had just finished a marathon as she depleted the contents in front of her. Turning her eyes, not her body, her image was filled with the close up of a white buttoned down t-shirt, the top button undone, exposing the slightest array of chest hair.
“Hi, I’m Travis,” he smiled, as his confidence now radiated into Abby.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Abby,” she said, causing a school-yard grin to consume her face. Consume...it is difficult. I see what you are saying here, but because I'm being picky because everything so far is so good, I wouldn't use this word. Just because, when I imagine an enormous smile, I imagine sparkling eyes. But, if the smile consumes the face, my imagery of the eyes is disrupted. Perhaps try another verb. Again, I stress, there isn't anything wrong with what you've written. This is a great piece so I'm being fussy to find little things to improve on.
“Want to get out of here, grab a bite to eat or something?” Travis has already started to move towards the exit, clearly a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
Abby nodded and innocently began to follow.
Travis placed the tips of his fingers on Abby’s lower back in a way that made her heat up inside. This reminds me so much of a book, Brooklyn, by Colm Toibin. Your imagery is excellent.
***
Abby was young, with a fair, pure face which shone underneath the downpour of light which surrounded the room. Her husband had since flown from her in the presence of tears.
As Abby sat, unmoving, on the orange suede sofa she had once shared with Travis, her brother brought her a glass of water in an attempt to stir the stale air that the three of them existed in. Accepting the water, she did not drink it.
It was Arthur who made the first move, “You know,” he began saying as he reached for his back pocket, “I have this picture of Travis and I, when we first began working together, around the time the two of you met,” his fingers held a small picture he had retracted from his wallet as he leaned over to give it to Abby.
“I want you to have it.”
She stared at the piece of paper for a long time before announcing, “He looks happy.”
Abby counted backwards in time and concluded that this photo must have been taken 6 years ago, or 1 year before they had met. It was evident as she saw the man she fell for smiling back at her, she saw the same burning copper eyes as she had at the bar, the eyes that spoke of confidence, dedication, commitment. She thought of herself at this time, 6 years ago, she would have just finished her business degree. She placed the photo facedown and slid the photo back towards Arthur, thanking him for his kind gesture.
***
Mr and Mrs Maddox laughed as they manoeuvred their brand new orange sofa through the door of their two bedroom home.
“How good is this!” Travis exclaimed as he looked around their newly-renovated living room.
“You know..” Travis began as he creeped close to Mrs. Maddox, “you don't have to find a new job now..I’ve got it covered,” he boasted as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
Abby stepped away from his grip, “I thought we spoke about this, I want to work,” she spoke silently as she looked to the ground below her.
“But you don't have to!” Travis threw his arms as does when he is passionate about something. "arms as he does?"
“I know I don't have to, but I want to”
Now that Travis paced around the room, Mrs. Maddox hoped he would not break anything.
“Why would you want to, you can stay here and do anything you want, I'm allowing you to.”
Travis’ face seemed to absorb the redness which had seeped out of his wife’s as he opened and closed pantry doors, in such a rush that he could not even see what was inside.
“Where is all the food in this house! You cant even manage to look after the house when you aren't working.”
Mrs Maddox swallowed back the tears that seemed to be pushing her eyeballs out of her head.
She approached him slowly, “You’re right, you’re right, I don’t need to work,” she assured him as she convinced herself, he was right. It would all work out.
“I’m going to go and do some shopping now, okay?” Mrs. Maddox cautiously asked her husband.
“Okay, thank you” he replied as his breathing came back down to a normal pace and the tips off his fingers lingered on her arm for just long enough to make her hair stand up.
Before leaving, Mrs. Maddox stared into the hollow barrel of her own eyes as they appeared in front of her, convincing herself that the person she saw before her was smiling.
***
Abby’s heart smiled despite the sympathetic looks that never left the faces of Arthur and her brother. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and despite her eyelids covering her vision, she could see pictures of happiness, of freedom.
And yet she had loved him.
Often she had not.
Though no one knew, Mr. Maddox replaced Abby with Mrs. Maddox.
“So, I know there are a lot of ways people deal with loss…I know when my Uncle died, my Aunty took up knitting as a way to…” Abby cut Arthur off before he could continue any more.
“I think I'm going to start looking for work, I can’t stay in this house all day.”
Arthur and her brother shared a surprised look.
“That sounds like a great idea, sis,” her brother rose and embraced her in a tight, reassuring hug.
“If you guys don’t mind, I would like to be alone for a bit.”
“Of course, don't mind us” Arthur said as both the men took a couple of steps to the door.
One final tear relinquished itself from her right eye as she closed the door on Arthur, closed the door on her husband. She was a widow. She smiled.
What I love about this story:
-You never explicitly say how he died. It works stronger like this.
-The circular structure of the story works well, coming back to the start at the end. This is very satisfying for a reader.
-Your imagery is definitely there, in a way that is strong without being showy.
What there is to improve:
The main thing is that grammatically, some things are not correct. I sense that you have done this in the aim of manipulating conventions for a purpose, this is why I left some untouched. However, the ones I commented on are the ones that stuck out to me especially as the kinds of things that markers would probably double read to make sure they read it correctly.
Some things to think about:
In a situation of a written stimulus, I'm going to present to you a few ideas just so you can think about how you would engage them in your story:
Write an imaginative piece of writing:
-Where discovery features as being transformative of opinions
-where rediscovery is a thematic highlight.
-that features discovering something for the first time.
Otherwise, you've done a really excellent job and you should be very proud!
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