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 Proof Reader?

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PostSubject: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:05 pm

I'm at university studying English Literature and Creative Writing, and am currently in the process of writing a short story/novel....I'm currently looking for anybody interested to maybe proof read what I've got so far and tell me what they think? It would be most appreciated and any feedback good or bad will only help me improve and get better....so if anybody out there feels like taking a read, please let me know.

Cheers

WWS
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:08 pm

i don't know how much you have but try to copy paste here this way more people will read it Wink
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:20 pm

ha ha, good plan. there's a reasonable amount (6,000 words), so if anybody can be bothered to trawl through it or even some of it, i'd be much obligued :p

‘Have A Little Faith’

Chapter 1

By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. Not the most original, or reassuring statement you’ve ever heard, granted…but it’s true all the same. Some people are born with tragedy in their lives, and others…well, others earn it. You could say I fall into the latter category, but for the record right now, I’d like to say if I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
In life, most people have quarrels with what they see as the enemy. You’ve got people who want to fight their boss, their dad, their country, their government, that typical average deep-seated run of the mill hatred. I don’t have a problem with any of those, my problem lies with somebody who’s far more of a sadistic and mean spirited son of a bitch. God is, to his credit though, one powerful guy. Of course I say guy, but you know what I mean, it’s neither the time nor place to be discussing the ambiguity of in what form God exists. Oh, and he sure knows how to hold a grudge.
One of the problems with society today, is that people don’t take things seriously enough. We’ve grown lazy and complacent, and truth be told, we’re just not scared enough anymore. Do I sound like an over-zealous religious nut? Maybe, but you’ll have to allow that, if I explain that the only reason I know all this is because I used to be the exact opposite. You might even know my name, I’m kind of famous, but that isn’t important at this precise moment…what is important is that I’ve got to try and talk you through all this so that at least somebody knows what happened to me, and so that’s what I’m going to do. I used to be a preacher…now I know what you’re thinking, you want to just stop reading right now, huh? Well I wasn’t that kind of preacher…I went around all the different states and I made a lot of money preaching to people about why religion, the bible, and God were a waste of their lives, that we should stop living in the past with books that were written 2000 years ago, and get with the times…you know, evolution, the big bang, cable TV? I’m not ashamed to say I got very rich, very quickly, hell I pioneered virtually my own religion, of non-believing…and sure, I made a few enemies here and there, but those were just people looking to displace their anger onto the next person who says God isn’t real, and as you can imagine, I didn’t actually give a crap. I mean, the definitive proof for me that God doesn’t exist, that religion doesn’t matter is simple. What kind of a sick twisted creator would allow all of the crap that goes on in the world? I mean you’ve got children being killed, diseases and disasters wiping out thousands and millions of people at a time, and you’ve heard the rest, you know what I’m talking about…and that’s all it took for me, that made my mind up there and then.
It took me a while to grasp the practicalities of all this…people playing pranks on you, I could’ve sworn for about three and a half weeks that there was an underground group out there trying to teach me a lesson, but eventually the truth hit me like a divine intervention. The things happening, they just weren’t explainable…things were happening that aren’t physically possible… and the bottom line is I ignored it, and now it’s worse…far worse. So I’m telling you this as somebody who knows what’s coming next, somebody who’s been running, hiding from the inevitable for weeks…I got one last message, and it said in no unclear terms that I’d pissed off the man you really don’t want to piss off, that God is an omnipotent, angry, transcendent being and that he wants me dead, because he doesn’t like me…and then it clicked, it all fell into place.
Yes there is a God, and why does he let all those bad things happen? He doesn’t give a damn, that’s why…he’s not the all loving, caring being we give him credit for, he’s a violent, unpredictable, volatile piece of work who sees us as his mistake. Since then I’ve been dodging the proverbial bullets…and I’m not the kind of defeatist person who’ll believe what you tell them and bury my head in the sand, but this is undeniable, and the bottom line is, I’m a dead man walking. In the last six days I’ve nearly died more times than I care to count. This is no coincidence, and so this is my last thing, the one thing that needs to be done before the clock runs out, I need to get all of this down for my own sanity more than anything, and so that people realize the truth, that God is very much with us, and he’s a sick twisted bastard who doesn’t like those like me, but I guess if people don’t want to listen, they’ll find out soon enough. I don’t know who you are, and you probably aren’t going to believe what I’ve got to say, but I pray to God that you do, and no that isn’t me being clever. Like I said though, I wouldn’t change a thing. I stared at the very fabric of humanity, and it slapped me in the face. It’s kind of funny when you think about it, but what’s a guy to do in this situation? All the money in the world can’t buy me a way out of this one. Am I angry about what happened? You bet your ass I am, what kind of a God hides and then comes out to play when it suits him? For all the good it’s going to do me now, God can go to hell.
So here we go. I’ve had a great life in parts, and there are parts I’d rather forget. Now, I’ve always been a good talker, my best attribute is probably my charisma…or is that my worst? I’m one of those strong minded people that has their beliefs and their opinions, and nothing can change those. You can’t talk me over to your point of view, you can’t argue your way into my acceptance…I listen to myself and only myself, and that’s the way it’s always been…until very, very recently. Maybe that’s why this happened to me, maybe that’s why I’m facing this “judgment day”, because that’s the only way I’ll learn. Either way, this isn’t the way I envisioned my life ending, but I can’t say I didn’t ask for it. A few months ago, I noticed little things here and there that puzzled me slightly…I’d like to say they were subtle, but they really, really weren’t. The first occurrence I remember particularly well was when I got back from one of my mini-tours around the country, you know, a few stops here and there talking in malls and convention centers, not very glamorous, but the money speaks for itself. So I get back from one of these tours, and I’m away from the house for like…two or three weeks, and I arrive at O’Hare International at something stupid like five thirty am, and it’s been one of those days where everything has been dragging and dragging, and by this time I just want to throw myself into bed and sleep for the next two days. However, I’ve still got to get home first, so I grab a cab, and snuggle up in the back, in that in between state where you’re drifting slightly, and every jerk of the car shakes you back to life, like a shot of adrenaline, and you just know the driver’s doing it on purpose because he’s bored, and because he thinks it’s funny, and because he’s driving a cab at five thirty in the morning. It’s not too far of a journey from O’Hare, maybe a half hour down the I94, through Elmwood Park and out past Downtown. So, I can cope with the fact I’m the object of this cab drivers entertainment for a little while, I mean I’ve been travelling for nearly twenty two hours, I can deal with another thirty minutes.
Then, and this is going to take a little bit of faith on your part, and I promise you I’m not crazy, this is what actually happened. This driver mumbles something under his breath…now I don’t really give a crap about making small talk with this cabbie this early in the morning, I just want to go to bed, so I ignore it, I just shut my eyes and wait to get home, but this guy mumbles again, louder this time, and again, and I finally just open my eyes and lean forward. I say to him;
“Look Pal, I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, but I’ve been travelling for a whole day, and I just want to get back home, I’m exhausted, hungry, cold, and I just need to get some sleep. I’m sure you can appreciate that, you know? Working the early shift and all, I’m sure you get this all the time, right? I’ve been dealing with imbeciles all day and I’m all worked up. So if you just get me back as soon as you humanly can, and let me just lie here with my eyes closed, then there’s an extra twenty in it for you, alright?”
The guy just looks at me through the rear view mirror, and he grunts, so I lie back into my seat and close my eyes, and for a few seconds I’m completely at ease, and then, from nowhere, the cab driver virtually shouts, and this time there’s no mumbling, and no mistaking what he says, and do you know what he says to me?
“Give, and it shall be given to you. For whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return.”
Now at this point, this man has my complete and undivided attention. My eyes jolt open, and I look at him blankly. His eyes glare back at me in the mirror, and there’s something there that wasn’t there before…and this isn’t sleep deprivation, this isn’t me being mistaken, this is exactly what happened. I manage to stutter a few words back at him.
“What…what did you just say? I don’t mean to be a jackass, but I’m not in the mood for games, and no offence, but I don’t need philosophical advice from a cab driver, alright? It just so happens that I’m…”
“I know who you are. Let it be said that you are taking the wrong path…you’re making a mistake that once you’ve committed yourself to, cannot be undone.”
“Look buddy, just get me the hell home ok? This is really fucking wierding me out, maybe you should just let me -----”
“Destruction cometh; and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none.”
“What the F***?! What the hell is all this crap? Are those quotes, or are you making this s*** up as you go along? Let me out of this cab right now, or I’m calling the cops, this is the last thing I need after the day I’ve had, you goddamn psycho!”
“Thou shalt not take the lord’s name in vain. As far as the advice and words of wisdom…it’s all in the good book, look it up. Remember this, just because you can’t see God, doesn’t mean he isn’t here…and you sure as hell don’t want to piss off your maker, brother.”
Now at this point I’m wondering exactly how long it is before this madman crazy cuts me up into little pieces and dumps my remains in Lake Michigan. I’m virtually breaking my hand trying to get the door open, and this guy’s just sitting there laughing…and I mean really laughing, and he turns around and looks at me, and his eyes, his eyes burn right through me, and he says to me;
“In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: If you continue to denounce the name of the almighty, and turn his flock against him, then there will be repercussions, and they shall not be pleasurable…this isn’t the last time God will be checking in on you, boy, remember that.”
Then the damndest thing happened. His eyes flickered a bright red, and I recoiled in shock.
“Now get the F*** out of my taxi.”
The door flung open and I grabbed my bag and pretty much fell onto the sidewalk, and as he sped away, and I clambered to my feet, with the cold Chicago morning drifting from my mouth. Now yeah, I know what you’re thinking…this is either me going slowly insane, or this is some punk who wants to get a bit of retribution for the way I’ve been making my money. That’s exactly what I thought. Now that shook me, and it shook me up pretty badly all truth be told, some vicious fundamentalist spouting bible quotes at me because I don’t believe in God. What a punk. Then more and more things started happening, and believe me, I’ll get to those.
I was only a few blocks from my home, so I walked the rest. I couldn’t get what had happened out of my head, I tried to dismiss it, put it down to exhaustion, and a crazy asshole for a driver. Unfortunately when crazy fucking things keep happening denial is not an easy state of mind to maintain. I didn’t try for long. After a couple of weeks I couldn’t anymore.
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:22 pm

Chapter 2

Nothing in life quite illustrates your mortality more than a death. That’s exactly how I felt as I stood there. I didn’t feel angry, I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t really feel anything other than a brutal realization that this is the final stop for everyone and everything, and there’s no escaping it…and there’s definitely nothing after it. To be entirely honest with you I was more concerned with getting this mess dealt with and going home. The room was white and plain but I didn’t really expect anything different, it was clinical and felt about as bare as I did at that moment. Then the man next to me clicked his fingers.
“Sir?” He sounded mildly concerned. I looked across at him and realized he’d been trying to get my attention for a while.
“Huh?” I said instinctively, with no real feeling.
“Well Sir…is it her?”
“Yes.” With that he pulled the cover back up over the body and I left.
I decided to walk home, I like walking home at night, it’s the most solitude you can get without being on a desert island, simply because everybody stares at the floor and nobody wants to talk to you for fear of being mugged or getting harassed by a crazy, you know? I’d never been a religious man, like any normal self-serving person with a brain in their head I knew it wasn’t logical. It can’t be logical if people, innocent people, die all the time. If the bad people get away and innocent people get hurt all the time, then we have to assume that God doesn’t exist. Not only has he given us no evidence he exists, the evidence we’ve got only points further and further away from the idea of any divine creation. That’s why I toured, spoke at gatherings, and made a bit of cash on the way. Despite what I did for a living, and don’t get me wrong I was damn good at it , I always secretly hoped I was wrong. That I’d been misguided and there was something out there to justify all this. When I saw her on that table it vanished. Any last little shred of hope or even just wonder died when she did. It’s easy enough to make a case for their being no God based on mass tragedies or innocent lives being lost, but when it’s somebody you knew, somebody you were close to, then it’s a different game altogether. Maybe that’s a sad remark about me or society in general being de-sensitized and not caring enough about what happens to others in the world, I don’t know. I do know however, that I said goodbye to Anna a long time ago, and what we had was already dead.
I remember walking for a couple of hours that night, the cold air on my skin reminded me that I was still alive. I always thought that’d I’d be the one who died first. It was strange, Anna always seemed stronger, more resilient than me. In an odd way though, it kind of made sense, life is never what you expect and it’s never what you want, I learnt that lesson the hard way. Every detail of that night will stay ingrained on my mind for as long as I have the luck to stay alive, and it wasn’t because I’d indentified the body of who you might call the love of my life. The woman I saw was a shell of who I used to know anyway. I opened my door and threw my keys and jacket on the bed. I pulled a smoke from the packet in my back pocket and lit it, before going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. I grabbed my mail from by the door and fell back onto my couch. I flicked on the TV and started thumbing through my mail. Nobody ever writes to me with anything interesting. It’s always ‘Would you like 15% off at Macy’s?’ or ‘Need to lose weight fast?’ To be perfectly frank; no, I would not like fifteen percent off at Macy’s and no; I would not like to lose weight fast. What I would like is fewer bills and less junk mail. I noticed another one of these stupid fliers that I’d been getting for a few weeks. It was obviously one of the religious freaks that were intent on changing my stance on God. I’m reasonably well known amongst the zealots in my neighborhood and by the looks of it one of them had decided to plague me with fliers. I’d had a few, they always made me laugh, but were always from the same company or religion or whatever you want to call it, the ‘Last Chance for Change Church’. Sometimes they’d say that the Day of Judgment was coming or that God is always watching, you know the usual crap. I actually bothered reading these ones as they brought a little smile to my face. Sometimes they’d be a little bit freaky, like ‘God loves everybody, but you have to love him back or he will strike you down.’ That stuff just fascinated me. People don’t care enough about going to church anymore, so what’s the new tactic? Prophesize the coming of the Apocalypse, swearing it’s imminence, and terrify the ignorant bastards right back into their pews. Ingenious.
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:23 pm

Nothing was on television, as usual. Just the same old two dimensional network shows and endless infomercials. No I don’t care who the next American Idol is. No I don’t want to be a Millionaire. No I don’t want to buy a sixteen disc limited edition ultimate folk songs package for thirty percent off. No I most certainly don’t want to ‘save myself with Christ at the ‘Last Chance for Change Church’ and weekly spiritual sessions. Jesus, these people are even on television now. So at this point I just don’t care about anything. It’s been a long day and I’ve had to deal with somebody from my past. I turn off the TV and just sit there on the couch, looking at the wall. I remember wondering why I wasn’t happy anymore and why nothing is ever like it should be, and after a while, I fall asleep.
I’m not exactly sure what time I woke up, or even how long I was awake for. Some idiot’s telling me how I can have the body I’ve always dreamt of from the tv and I was still fully dressed. So I stirred a little, and turned off the television, which I thought I’d already done, but must have rolled onto the remote in my oblivious sleeping state. There was no light and I pulled my shirt up over my head and dropped it to the floor. I started undoing my belt when the television sparked into life and startled me. I stared at it for a few seconds, utterly perplexed by this little box that I stare at every day anyway. Now I just don’t comprehend this, but I don’t really care. It’s late, I’m half-asleep as it is, and the only thing I want to do is get in to bed. So I unplug the TV and pull off my pants and walk to the bedroom, but as I’m about to go in, guess what happens. I’ll give you three guesses. The TV flickers back to life and what happens to be on the screen? Apparently, the ‘Last Chance for Change’ patrons are really convinced on winning me over to their flock.
Now I’m not even sure what was going through my head at this point, but imagine something like that happened to you, and I’m sure you’ll find it a little easier to relate. I stand there, frozen…just looking at the screen. That bald man with the glasses and the bible standing there, smiling at me relentlessly like some kind of mindless ape, telling me that God punishes those that sin against him. So I start shouting at the TV, telling it that it’s not possible that it’s turned on, and that I’m going to smash it into a thousand different pieces if it doesn’t turn off this very second, and then I hear something, and I just stop. My heart jumps into my mouth and I fall to my knees and turn to the TV, and I hear it again.
“God will not stand idle whilst those against him spread their poisonous words like a bad apple….John Frost.” The annoyingly smiley gentlemen from the advert suddenly didn’t seem so nice, but what I was more surprised by was that he knew my name.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I blurted out, and the man on the screen let out a little laugh and waved his finger at me.

“This is no practical joke Mr. Frost, I can assure you of that.”

“Then what the hell is going on?! I’m going crazy, aren’t I? I knew I’d snap sooner or later, and my mother had the audacity to call me a hypochondriac…” I managed to stutter back.

“Try to keep your focus to the present John. I’m afraid you’re not going insane either, unfortunately for you. Do you know who I am? I certainly know who you are Jonathan Christopher Frost of Flat Flat 6A, 2207 West 35th Street, Bridgeport, Chicago, IL. Spiritual Speaker who tours the country making money out of poor souls wanting to find the next quick fix to all of life’s problems and turning devout believers in the almighty into raging atheists. Never married, although came close once, no children or brothers or sister. Your mother died when you were fifteen. No family other than your surviving father who lives in London.” The smile on his face had returned. “Do you know who I am?”

“If I hazard a guess I’m scared you might get angry if I’m wrong.” I said in a sarcastic tone. “Look, don’t try and scare me with your knowledge of my family and my life, appearing on my television and talking to me is a pretty cool trick though…I guess the demons from my past I laid to rest tonight haven’t quite moved over. Who the hell are you and what the F*** are you doing talking to me through my TV in the dead of night?”

“You know John, what always makes me smile, is when somebody who’s been searching for something for their entire life, doesn’t realize when they finally found it.” The expression on his face was that irritating smugness of someone who knows something you don’t, and is loving every single second of your ignorance.

“What….what? Wait a minute; are you seriously trying to imply to me that you are God? Sorry friend, but I don’t think so. You’re probably just my paranoid delusion, at best you’re some fat bald guy advertising some freaking cult that calls itself a church, and I need to get some serious help. Listen to me, I’m sitting in my apartment in the dead of night having a conversation with my TV. F***!”

“As outrageous as it might sound, you should have a little more faith in yourself, you’re an intelligent individual who, had circumstances been different, I would’ve loved to have on my side. I’ve had a special interest in you for a while now. I’ve been paying you specific attention, and I knew this is how you would react. I am not your paranoid delusion, or any other kind of delusion for that matter. I am the creator and maintainer, the Almighty, the Alpha and the Omega, the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost, to you John, I am God. It didn’t require god-like intuition to know that you would use any excuse possible to avoid facing what you have forever longed for. I’ll visit again. Soon.”

With that I woke up in bed, covered in sweat and gasping at an audibly high level, and not quite sure what was going on.
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 7:23 pm

Chapter 3

I always thought that if God did actually exist, he wouldn’t exist in the form we recognize him. All the cliché’s of the old man with the white beard and robes sitting on a cloud playing the harp were outlandish and unbelievable. I imagined that if there was a higher power then it would be something that the human mind could not comprehend or envision. I found it hard to believe that God was an average, bald, bespectacled man who needed to appeal to masses through the medium of late night cable commercials. To be entirely honest with you, I didn’t believe what happened to me the previous night. It could have been anything…grief over dealing with Anna’s death, a lack of sleep, being over-worked, a tumor…but my personal favorite was the possibility I’d finally snapped and gone crazy. I always knew it was only a matter of time. Even so, there wasn’t much I could do about it there and then, so I just carried on as normal and did what I do best, bury my head in the sand.
The next morning was in truth a bit of an anticlimax compared to my brush with divinity. The only highlight, if you could call it that, was making it to the local, soulless, corporate coffee house before the morning rush of white collar workers who couldn’t function without that first fresh burning cup of dry-roasted black caffeine.
I burst through the doors and practically assaulted the lone youth behind the counter. I had a meeting across town with a local publishing house who were keen to capitalize on my very small name value and put out a book full of handy hints and tips on how to worship nothing and nobody but yourself. Call me stupid, but I could’ve sworn that’s violating like, four of the commandments. Like I said though, I’m kind of famous, and when you’ve got that kind of status, all sorts of people are jumping over themselves to throw money at you, if you’ll just sign here and hand over your name for them to do as they will with. I’m not one to be picky, if somebody wants to give me money, then there’s very little I’ll object to doing for that money, especially when it’s large quantities and little work. The bustling city always makes me nervous, mainly because there are so many people to bump into and so many people to try and avoid. Human contact, it sends chills down my spine. I’m the type of person who goes through the motions, plays the game in regards to keeping up appearances and general interactions, but I don’t like any of it, and I certainly don’t believe in any of it. I just wish everyone would leave me alone for the rest of eternity and let me wallow in my perennial unhappiness and allow me to brood childishly in peace. Is that so much to ask? Well apparently when you make a career out of preaching to impressionable, directionless everyday people in the city, it is. So with my lukewarm half drunk coffee in hand I exited the coffee house ignoring the panic stricken people in suits who were late for another day at the office, and tried to make my way across town, navigating through the crowds of people blocking every inch of spare space on the sidewalk. I’m trying to put the events of last night to the back of my mind, right at the back along with my demonic and sleep deprived cab ride, but it all keeps creeping back in, and it’s like I’m walking along, and my body is there but my consciousness is somewhere far, far away, somewhere calmer.
Then I saw something, and my heart jumped into my mouth. Just out of the corner of my eye. I definitely saw it. Her. Logic at this point goes out of the window, and I knew it couldn’t be, but it was. Anna. Only for a second but I saw her, unmistakably. That long black hair could only belong to her…surely? I know deep down that it isn’t Anna…hell I even identified her body the day before, but something inside won’t let me drop it. Across the street, I can see the top of her head bobbing above the crowd and I run. I don’t know why I do but I chase after her, I have to.
Trying to make your way through a jungle of people who all want to go the opposite way to you, and want to get there fast is difficult, and every second spent struggling is another second she gets further away. She rounds a corner and I’m not far behind, but too far for her to hear me shouting her name or see me swimming like a salmon upstream. Some suited clown with a briefcase decides to answer his cell phone at exactly the wrong time and we both tumble to the ground in a heap of muffled curses and cold black liquid. The man tries to shout at me but he’s far too slow and I’m already up and moving, towards her. Then she turns and there’s no doubt, it’s her. That face is one in a million and it’s most certainly her. I don’t really know what was going through my mind at this point, but suffice to say it was a cross between utter despair and disbelief and that glimmering sparkle of hope. She crosses the road and I’m just a few seconds behind her now, so close I can almost touch her, but she can’t hear me, or won’t hear me.
Then in the middle of the road right at our most beautiful moment, as I go to grab her shoulder, a car slams into me and I fly onto the hood. Time stops still and for those few seconds my eyes are still fixed on her, and she flicks her head back and looks at me for just a second, and then I land hard with a thud in the middle of the road and the car screeches to a halt. I roll over as the driver gets out of his car and starts yelling at me, and she just walks away and I close my eyes.

Chapter 4

Lots of people say they hate hospitals, that they don’t like the illness or the fact death lurks around every corner like a slithering snake waiting to strike at anybody it can…but not me. I can see why people reach that conclusion, but I see it from the other perspective, hospitals are for helping people to survive, those that are clinging on with every last ounce of strength and won’t give up, it’s kind of uplifting. As I lay in bed contemplating that thought and what had just happened to me, a nurse came in and ordered me to stay there and wait to be taken for an MRI to check I hadn’t given myself any brain damage when I carelessly allowed myself to get run down by a speeding driver. I could barely hear the nurse mutter incessantly over the beating of my heart, and I just stared at the ceiling tiles wondering when I could go home and if I’d ever be able to get back to a sense of normality. I was growing less and less confident that all this would eventually pass and had to give genuine consideration to the thought that I might be seriously ill. Try as I might I just couldn’t convince myself that any of the ‘occurrences’ that I’d been experiencing were at all possible or plausible, let alone explainable. This time it had resulting in me spending a day in hospital and missing my meeting with the publishers, all because I’d been chasing after my dead-ex girlfriend who I hated anyway. I heard the nurse mention something about looking both ways when crossing the road, and had an almost uncontrollable urge to sit up and batter her to death with a bedpan, but thankfully was in no fit state to do so. I was no longer shocked or in awe of what was going on around me and with me, those emotions instead replaced with a bubbling resentment and anger that all of this was happening to me and not some other poor shmuck from down the street.


- And that's as far as I've got thus far. Damn, that sure didn't want to go into one post Neutral

Like i said, if it's crap that's cool.
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'BBC' Richard Anthony
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 8:39 pm

Admittedly im not the sorta guy people would ask for literary advice and i have only read the first few paragraphs (which drew me as the reader in really well) but the line

Quote :
the truth hit me like a divine intervention.

Should it be "the truth hit me like divine intervention."? without the a... to me it reads better.. but maybe im just off my rocker... lol anyway i will try to read it through later.. good work though.

-

Running it through a spell checker might help, i skimmed through and spotted a few things though some are just American->English differences and some could be interpreted as character speech.

Code:

learnt (no such word in the English language really, though the word is often spoken) -> learned
indentified -> identified
Prophesize? (doesnt look right to me)
travelling -> traveling
offence (British) - offense (American)
wierding -> weirding
damndest -> damnedest

hope that helps
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Fri Aug 22, 2008 11:33 pm

Yeah dude, that's exactly the sort of thing I was after, thank you. A lot of the spelling errors there are because I'm British but I'm writing it as American, and spell checker is set to the U.S. and obviously I'm not myself familiar with the American variation so much. Your help is much appreciated and I've made those changes :-)

If anyone has any opinions on the subject matter or how they feel the story reads and feels, that would also be something to let me know :-) thanks again.

WWS
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Theram
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PostSubject: Re: Proof Reader?   Sat Aug 23, 2008 1:15 pm

i like the style of writing but i think that monologues is a bit out of character well maybe you want to show a different side of your character but i think then character speaks he should be less angry and nervous and be more
sarcastic well more a person who don't give a damn about everything as i understand he is writing about this after some time so he cant be the same angry as he was that moment well i hope you understand what i want to say Smile and maybe to much because in this line don't you think so? Wink "driver’s doing it on purpose because he’s bored, and because he thinks it’s funny, and because he’s driving a cab at five thirty in the morning"
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