I'm working on a short story for English class and I want to see if you guys like it. I copied this from word, so I don't know how this is going to turn out. I hope you like it! ------ âI hate you. I hate this family. I hate this house. And I hate my life!â Oliver stormed off, heading towards the shabby front door. âWhere are you going?â Questioned his father in an intimidating tone. âAway from you!â The door slammed shut, rattling the furniture inside the house. Oliver lumbered down the dirt road, kicking stones hotly across his path. Farmland stretched for miles on end. Occasionally, a brown farmhouse would ruin the perfect harmony of the rolling grasslands. Oliver stopped under a willow tree that shaded a serene pond. Lillypads floated wonderfully in the clear water as fish darted back and forth playing games with others. He picked up stone and stared at it crossly. So perfect. Not a scratch or blemish could be seen on itâs smooth surface. âAhh!â Oliver screamed as he threw it in the water, disturbing itâs perfection. It wasnât fair. Itâs not allowed to be so perfect. He slumped over the prominent roots of the great willow tree, putting his hands over his head, he began to sob. The weeping willow seemed to sob with Oliver, itâs leaves swaying sympathetically in the wind. âOliver!â a man called from behind. âOliver!â Oliver turned revealing his red, wet face to his father. âSon. What was that all about?â âYou know what it was about!â Oliver yelled, outraged. His father sighed in reply, staring at the murky pond water. âI just want to be free. Ever since you came, I canât do anything. Iâm a senior in highschool, my own person. You treat me like a child. I should be able to do what I want,â Oliver vented. âI know Iâm not your real father. I know I may not let you do the same things, or let you stay out until morning. But when you look back on life, youâll understand.â Oliver sighed and shook his head. âHow many times are you going to tell me that?â âUntil you understand.â Oliver studied the bobbing lillypads, defeated. âYou donât understand. I just want to be my own person. I want to be a man.â His father walked over to the edge of the pond, and looked intently into its waters, as if trying to decipher an enigma. He was a small man, but muscular. Dressed in a black shirt, khakis, and dress shoes. The typical attire for a business man of his stature. âHave you ever heard of the Hetane ritual?â he uttered suddenly. âNo, why?â Oliver said, confused. âAs a young man, about your age, I went through this ritual. Basically, itâs the native American ritual to become a man.â âSo, you want me to kill a bear?â His father chuckled, âNot exactly. Killing a bear is a figure of speech. They donât actually kill a bear, but instead tame their soul in order to become a man.â âOh? And how on earth do I do that?â Oliver questioned, almost amused by his father. âI will show you. Lean against that tree. Good, good. Close your eyes, and empty your mind.â Oliver obeyed his father. He had nothing to lose, and, why not? His father ripped the arrowhead from the leather string that holds it. He stared at it with sorrowful eyes. âPeace be with you, son.â He chanted, as he stabbed the arrowhead into Oliverâs chest.
UGH! Those symbols will be the death of me. Anyone know how to take them off? Also, I forgot to mention that the story isn't finished yet. So, if you're confused with the ending, that's probably why.
With the symbols... Those are the quotation marks. You'll probably have to go back and fix each one by hand. That'll be your best bet.
And about your story... I don't know if you were aware of this, but your dialogue does not have to go at the beginning of every sentence. Try to vary your sentence structure a bit. Instead of Having Oliver actually scream "Ahh!" at the pond, perhaps he throws the stone with a cry of exasperation. And the end is sad, though you did say it wasn't finished yet. Keep working on it.
Try developing your characters more, too. In my head, when I saw the name "Oliver", an image popped into my brain. Your job, as the writer, is to show us your image of what Oliver looks like. I honestly did not figure out that Oliver was a Native American until his "father" mentioned Native American rituals. Make it very clear.
And high school is two words, not one.
I like the idea though, I think. It's hard to discern from the little bit here, but your mind is in the right place.
