Prologue1
I'd always been beaten. I was used to it. My life was destroyed permanently. There was no going back. I still remember the daunting moments living in that house. As I reflected on my diary, I realised bad my life actually was. I was a rather intelligent boy, but not intelligent enough to realise what was happening to me.2
Wednesday 24th May 19653
My seventh birthday. Today, I got the most wonderful present in the world! A hug from our maid, Lucy. How I love that Lucy! I love to be loved. I don't get loved often. He said there's nothing to love about me. Yet, he was being nice to be today. I only had to mop the floors, dust around the house; vacuum the house & prepare dinner. But, it all had to be done perfectly.4
"Get to work boy!" He shouted.
"Sorry Sir," I said. "I was just, just; fixing my shoe laces.
"Fixing your shoe laces! How can a boy be so silly. I give you food and shelter, what more do you want?"
He hit me hard over the head with his walking stick.
"That's what you deserve, George. Now back to work."
I bent down on the floor. I was still full of bruises and cuts.5
After alot of hard work, I received; nothing. How hungry I am. I would do anything for food. Or water. He hit me again. Though with his bare hand this time. I am to sleep in the garden tonight. Thankfully, it is warm outside.6
7
Friday 31st July 19658
"What are you doing in bed at seven hundred hours boy?!" Shouted he.
"Sorry Sir, my alarm didn't go off," I replied- scattering out of bed.
"Alarm! Well what’s that to you. You lazy little-" he screamed, followed by some bad language.9
"Please don't use words like that Sir, my Mother hated 'em,"
"Your Mother? She was a horrible woman. She used them words, she used every one of 'em. Horrible woman. Scruffy woman. No wonder she gave birth to you, sonny; you're just like 'er."
"I'm not sir, I'm a good lad; you see?"
I licked his shoes with my own tongue.
"All good. They're shiny, you can even see your reflection."
"Licking my shoes will not do the trick, boy. In fact It'll just about earn you a little beating with my stick!" Yelled he.10
I ran vigorously around the room, darting in every possible direction.
"Come here you horrible-"
"Never!" I screamed. "You'll never get me, never!"
However; he did get me. And I earned myself a few beatings from that.11
I'll be sleeping in the bathtub tonight. To make sure I don't dirty my pants again, he said. It's not my fault, I just can't control my bladder.12
Saturday 1st August 196513
I've just about manage to sneak my diary into the kitchen. I can't write long. I thought I'd write a poem though. I'm not much good at poetry, but here it goes; it's about the green stuff on my finger the other day:14
He picked,
He licked,
He smiled
And flicked.15
Licking his lips;
He was rather proud,
Until a man,
Shouted really loud:16
"George Hills, you've been found!
Snot is was!
I've seen the green,
Don't lie,
Don't lie,
Down that road I've been."17
"T'was not snot,
I swear!"
He said with green,
stuck in his hair.18
To his room,
He got sent;
For the man knew,
He was lying, yes,
But eating IT too.19
I'm off now. Back to vacuum the bedrooms and make the beds.20
Saturday August 19th 196521
I've been writing alot of poetry lately, and I've been thinking: Since my diary is my own, I should write some of them down. Here we go:22
Street Girl- This is a poem about a girl who I seen on the streets of London.23
Upon the streets;
Lies a girl,
With ragged clothes,
and long braided hair.24
No home has she,
But the uneven pavement:
Yet, still she lives,
The Street Girl.25
No food has she,
But the scraps from dustbins,
Yet, there are no complaints,
From the Street Girl.26
No water has she,
But the drops of rain,
Yet, she lives on,
Lives on does the Street Girl.27
No amusements has she,
Like ourselves,
How lucky are we?;
Compared to the Street Girl.28
She still sits there,29
In the darkness,30
With braids in her hair;31
As we watch,32
And learn:33
From the Street Girl.34
This is a poem about life.35
Life used to be for,
Loving, giving out them hugs,
Life used to be for chatting,
As your sip from them coffee mugs.36
Life used to be for,
Caring, looking after one another,
Life used to be for smiling,
Bringing happiness to one another.37
Life is now full of,
Stealing, how many valuables do you have?,
Life is now full of weapons,
Who cares about love?38
Life is now full of,
Threatning, do this or I'll do this,39
Life is now full of hate,40
That we didn't used to have.41
How life has changed,42
Through generations,43
It'll be tough,
To make it better again.44
But is we all stick together,45
We will suceed,46
If we bring others together,47
We will be a new world again.48
This poem is about chances.49
What Did You Do?50
He holds the hand,51
That should have been yours,52
Stares at you,53
And you think,54
What did I do?55
She gives the friend,56
That should have been you,57
That friendship bracelet,58
And you think,59
What did I do?60
He gives an A+,61
That should have been yours,62
On another students paper,63
And you think,64
What did I do?65
She gives a hug,66
That should have been yours,67
Smiles at you,68
And you think,69
What did I do?70
He crosses the finish-line,71
That you should have done,72
Then looks at you,73
And you think,74
What did I do?75
So many things in life,76
That should have been yours,77
But were taken away from you,78
Life brings so many chances,79
But so many are lost.80
81
***82
I continued to write and am now a professional author in London.
I received my first proper birthday present off my wife when I was 22 years old. Though, I still continue to buy myself a birthday present as I always remember how I felt when I did not receive one. I now live happily in London with my wife, Mary and my two children: Jacob and Eliza. I noticed that I did not mention the name of the man who beat me, his name was: John M. Miller. Unfortunately; he died at the age of 64, on 5th February, 1974.83
Lucy, the house maid lived only until the age of 49 and unfortunately died in 1987. Now, take time to reflect upon my diary entries, and though they are not in much detail, think about the position that I was in.84
I hope you never have to experience such a thing like I did.85
86
Comments
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I like your effort.
As mentioned by the others; a really good piece, rushed at the end. Im not going to repeat what has already been said.
The amazing bit for me is your age; you've got the time to become an awsome writer.
Stick at it.
Davebeginning: 5, language: 4, plot: 4, ending: 3, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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You're headed in a good direction for such a young age. You appear to be very articulate and enjoy what you do.
I think you should try working on your detail. I would have liked to see more; it's evident that you have a good understanding of this abusive situation, but like Rorshach said I would have liked to see more detail and description of his life between the stories. And perhaps, to make things a little neater, you could italicize the poetry sections to show what's a poem and what's a story (If you're curious, to italicize you would do < I >text< / I >. Without the spaces, that is).
Otherwise very lovely, with a charming ending. Keep writing, I think it's really wonderful that you enjoy it.
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Great first effort.
The strongest part was (in my opinion) the opening descriptions of the character and his life. This was very emotional and engaged the reader immediately. The best poem was the horrible one about snot. It was very funny and mischievous.
The bits you need to work on were the number of poems (too many) and the ending.
The poems needed to be broken up with more descriptive writing. Perhaps an explanation of what the character was doing on the day he wrote them. This would break them up a bit. When you put them together it begins to look like a list of poems, rather than a part of a larger story.
The ending confused me because the author missed out so many years of his childhood with one line ( 'I continued to write and am now a professional author in London.')
There must have been so much happening in his life between the ages of 7 and 22, so it's a bit odd to miss them all out.
With a bit of fleshing out I think this story could easily be over 2,000 words and still be very interesting.
Well done for beating the 1,000 word mark though. My best advice to you is to not rush your writing. Just let it flow and see where it takes you.
In conclusion.
Could I have written this when I was only ten years old? One word, no!
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