English Communications, 800 - 1000 Wordss :)

[Suicide Season]

Okay So I Showed A Few People This And They Loved It..
So Here It Is For Anyone To Read.
This Is How Im Handing It Up To My Teacher..
If You Want The Ending, PM Me Or Something
Honest Opinions Would Be Much Appreciated.

“BAM!” Everything seemed to slip away from me in a squeal of breaks and enormous pain. It was all so sudden; the sound of my heartbeat, the rain hitting the asphalt, the music in my ears, the car… black, silence. Blue and red lights, people yelling, and the rain beating down on me... black, silence. Agonising pain, screaming, blood, crying… black, silence. Bright lights, loud noise, voices, faces… black, silence. In and out of breath; in and out of consciousness, in and out of life.

Before the accident I lived with my broken down deadbeat mother. But during my recovery, she fell ill and is now living in hospital. I visit her almost everyday even though sometimes I ask myself why. She can’t even remember her own name, or the day of the week. So I don’t know how visiting her everyday would help, but yet, I still go. It’s like it was only yesterday I had the accident. I remember every detail right up until it happened; well at least I think I do… It’s been two years now, and the events of October 31st replay over and over in my head. I was only seventeen when it happened but looking back on it, it was possibly the best thing that ever happened to me.

I was eleven when my father died, but honestly I don’t remember that much about him. He was never around, he’d always be travelling in his truck or off with his friends having a ‘boy’s night out’. There was always a new reason for him not to see me. Wether they were true or not, I guess, in some way - I miss him, I always have. I visit his grave every year, and every year it stays the same. The flowers are dead, the headstone faded from the sun. But still, I never bring fresh flowers; I don’t even know why I visit half the time because for what he did to my mother, I hate him.

After my accident, in the duration of my recovery, I lost everything; the place I called home, my friends and most of all… my family. I was on a lot of medication, many of which were anti depressants to help my mental state from being a total disaster, which I might add - I hated taking. But after I was brought back from my ‘false happiness’ as I used to call it, I realised things weren’t as bad as they seemed. The doctors said it was a miracle I had even survived, as a result of their efforts and my own. My determination was stronger than ever, I was determined to walk again, to run, play, and jump. I had nothing left to strive for but I had been given a second chance at life and I wasn’t going to throw it away. After six months of rehabilitation and hydro therapy, I was able to stand. And within eight months I was walking again, I had achieved the un-achievable and even I was surprised at how far I had come. After ten weeks in the hospital I was ecstatic to go home, but it was short lived when I actually realised I didn’t have a place to go. The doctor came in with the social worker who I knew quite well now and she brought good news for once. She said she had found me a foster home not far from the hospital, which meant it would be easy for me to see my mother. I was scared but excited all at the same time, I got to get out of the hospital but I was going to a place I didn’t know. I had to start over again which made me reluctant to leave the hospital. I hesitantly packed as both the social worker and my doctor watched over me.

At first I didn’t know wether to make a run for it or to try and make conversation, the first few days with my foster family were awkward and silent, you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. But after that I found it to be quite nice, they had a son, around my age. We hung out a lot together, I taught him how to play drums and he attempted to teach me guitar. But no matter how hard I tried I found myself feeling empty, like a part of me had never returned after the accident, It was keeping me awake at night.. I had to do something. I asked my foster parents about the accident, but they turned to each other and made out they never heard me. I was outraged, everyone had been hiding something from me for all this time and now I was determined to find out what it was. I ran up the road as fast as I could, my hair in my face, my legs shaking, falling down to my knees and picking myself back up again. Flashbacks of October rushing through my head as it almost seemed to repeat all over again. The sound of my heartbeat, my shoes as they pound the pavement, my breathing… blood and grazes, as I pushed myself back to my feet. Nothing was going to stop me from finding out what really happened on October 31st.

I burst through the door, blood pouring from my knees as I bound up the stairs and jumped onto my bed grabbing my laptop as I passed my bedroom door. Frantically I pressed the on button and attempted to wait patiently for it to boot up. I could feel myself shaking as I heard my foster parents come up the stairs, and open my bedroom door. They just stood there looking at me; I gave them a blank stare as they tried to warn me maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do what I was doing. But I wasn’t listening; I was set on finding out exactly what happened. I searched Google and found the article I was looking for. It was titled, “Halloween Turns Sour For Two Young Teens” I paused for a second, and re took what I had just read… but I had made no mistake. The article read “Halloween Turns Sour For Two Young Teens”.

Thanks..
Suicide Season <3[/i]

[Wonderwice]

Usually, I would have said "tl;dr", but since I've noticed it's propper English, I gave it a try, and read it all.
I loved it actually. It was very touching. : )

[kalci]

awwwww cliff hanger much? it's AWESOME! uhmmm i'ma pm u though.... i wanna know the end...

[Suicide Season]

Okay So I Changed It...
My Teacher Made Me To Be Honest.

So Here's The Final Product.

English Communications
Narrative Writing -
800 – 1000 Words


The Worst Day Of My Life

“BAM!” Everything seemed to slip away from me in a squeal of breaks and enormous pain. It was all so sudden; the sound of my heartbeat, the rain hitting the asphalt, the music in my ears, the car… black, silence. Blue and red lights, people yelling, and the rain beating down on me... black, silence. Agonising pain, screaming, blood, crying… black, silence. Bright lights, loud noise, voices, faces… black, silence. In and out of breath; in and out of consciousness, in and out of life.

Before the accident I lived with my broken down deadbeat mother. But during my recovery, she fell ill and is living in hospital. I visit her almost everyday even though sometimes I ask myself why. She can’t even remember her own name, or the day of the week. So I don’t know how visiting her everyday helps, but yet, I still go. It’s like it was only yesterday I had the accident. I remember every detail right up until it happened; well at least I think I do… It’s been two years now, and the events of October 31st replay over and over in my head.

I was eleven when my father died, but honestly I don’t remember that much about him. He was never around, he’d always be travelling in his truck or off with his friends having a ‘boy’s night out’. There was always a new reason for him not to see me. Whether they were valid or not, I guess, in some way, I miss him - I always have. I visit his grave every year, and every year it stays the same. The flowers are dead, the headstone faded from the sun. But still, I never bring fresh flowers; I don’t even know why I visit half the time. Because of what he did to my mother, I hate him.

After my accident, I lost everything; the place I called home, my friends and most of all… my family. I was on a lot of drugs, including anti depressants to help my mental state from being a total disaster, which I might add- I hated taking. But after I was brought back from my ‘false happiness’, as I used to call it, I realised things weren’t as bad as they seemed. I found myself a foster home not far from the hospital, which meant it would be easy for me to see my mother. I was scared but excited all at the same time, I got to get out of the hospital but I was going to a place I didn’t know. I had to start over again which made me reluctant to leave. I hesitantly packed as both the social worker and my doctor watched over me.

At first I didn’t know whether to make a run for it or to try and make conversation. The first few days with my foster family were awkward and silent; it was as if I wasn’t even there at all. You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. But after that I found them to be quite nice, they had a son, around my age. His name was Alex, we hung out a lot together; I sat and watched him when he played the drums. He was getting better, he could do the solo of the drummer from one of my favourite bands now. But no matter how hard I tried I found myself feeling empty, and lost. Like a part of me had never returned after the accident, and after all this time, I wondered why my best friend Ashleigh hadn’t visited me during my recovery. It was keeping me awake at night.. I had to do something. I asked my foster parents about the accident, but they turned to each other and made out they never heard me. I was outraged. The very next day I went down to the shop to see if they had a November newspaper, but as I had expected, they didn’t have one. The next place I tried was the library and even though I could see someone reading one from November, they didn’t even recognise I was there. What the hell was wrong with this place, it was like I was invisible! My last resort was Google, which took me back home where it all started. I ran up the road as fast as I could, my hair in my face, my legs shaking, falling down to my knees and picking myself back up again. Flashbacks of October rushing through my head as it almost seemed to repeat all over again. The sound of my heartbeat, my shoes as they pound the pavement, my breathing… blood and grazes, as I pushed myself back to my feet. Nothing was going to stop me from finding out what really happened on October 31st.

I run through the door, blood pouring from my knees as I bound up the stairs and jumped onto my bed beside Alex. He was frantically pressing the on button on his laptop, attempting to wait patiently for it to boot up. I could feel him shaking as my foster parents come up the stairs, and opened the bedroom door. They just stood there looking at Alex; I gave them a blank stare as they tried to warn him maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do what he was doing. But he wasn’t listening; we were both set on finding out exactly what happened. We searched Google and found the article we were looking for. It was titled, “Halloween Turns Sour For Young Teen” I paused for a second, and re took what I had just read… but I had made no mistake. The article read “Halloween Turns Sour For Young Teen”. All of a sudden Alex started crying, and I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn’t answer me. I started to skim read the article and as I read through the column, I realised exactly why he was crying.

I stood up and stepped back in disbelief… I couldn’t believe what was written there. As I read more and more I realised that Alex wasn’t really just any boy. He was there the night of my accident, he was the one who called the ambulance. “Alex claimed hero after attempt to save life of young teenager; Kye Young - hit by car in freak accident, tragically dying only hours later”. It all made sense now; everyone ignoring me, Ashleigh not visiting, mum falling ill. Everything was no longer blurry, it became clear to me. But sitting there that day on Alex’s bed I realised just how much an accident can affect someone’s life and all I could think of was my friends. All I could think of was how Alex, Ashleigh and my mum felt, and for that moment… I felt their pain.

Okay Honest Opinions?

[XxbrokenlovexX]

I love it! :]
It had a lot of feeling.