The Wall - Short Story, ~1,200 Words - Writers Forum

Smiling Hobo · 11-01-2007, 08:07 PM

Hey...this is a short story I wrote for a school assingment. I'm looking for some feedback on what's good and what's bad about this story, and how I can fix it...thanks and enjoy.

The Wall

Hanschen wasn’t sure what he was doing in the teahouse that day. He didn’t even like tea, yet had already ordered and drained three cups. It tasted like dirty sewage to Hanschen and left a sour aftertaste in his mouth, but as his mother had said, “Tea has the power to calm the body and mind like no other concoction on this earth”. Hanschen needed to calm down, but this tea wasn’t helping matters; if anything, it was only making things worse. The more he though of calming down, the harder the reality of what he was about to do pressed on his conscious.

It was suicidal, really. Anyone who tried crossing the wall into West Germany was either killed or horribly maimed. Hanschen had already seen almost a dozen people drop out of apartment buildings and over the wall in an attempt to make it to the other side. So far, he had only seen one make it to the other side. One in twelve…no, it was more like ten or eleven. So a one in ten or eleven chance of making it. Ten percent was the best-case scenario. Hanschen twitched slightly at the thought, then quickly paid and left.

The day was overcast and dreary. The sky spat rain on Hanschen that had accumulated into small puddles that splashed water all over pedestrian’s shoes as car’s sped by, lurching up and down among the sea of potholes. Just across the street from the tea shop were a row of apartments, and behind the apartments laid the Berlin Wall, standing in adamant opposition to anyone trying to get into or out of the city. A testament to the state of affairs in my beloved USSR, Hanschen thought bitterly.

Hanschen crossed the street and entered the apartment directly facing the teahouse. It was his home. Hanschen wondered how he could have lived so close to the teahouse and never have entered it, but then he remembered that he hated tea, and houses for that matter, so it would make sense for him to avoid a teahouse. Hanschen began walking up the stairs to his room on the fourth floor. There was an eerie silence about the tenement, pierced only by the sounds of traffic outside and approaching footsteps…they were actually approaching quite fast.

“Hanschen Gidbol, you lazy bum, get your ass over here!”

Hanschen turned and blinked. It was Helga, the landlord. Hanschen sighed and prepared himself for the verbal onslaught to come, “I am a very patient woman, Hanschen. When you said you’d have the rent two weeks ago, I waited. It was no problem. Another week goes, no rent. And now it’s been three weeks Hancshen, three goddamned weeks. I don’t have any more time to waste. Give me my money now or get out.”

“ I’m sorry, Helga,” Hanschen began, “I was just out for tea and ran into a friend of mine who said—“

“TEA? YOU CAN AFFORD TEA BUT YOU CAN’T PAY YOUR RENT?”

“No, no, I mean I was out and I ran into a friend who had tea, I didn’t have tea, no tea at all, and—“

Hanschen was cut off as a feather duster sailed through the air and connected with his head. Hanschen didn’t realize feather dusters could hurt so much, “GET YOUR STUFF AND LEAVE! GO, NOW, GO!”

Hanschen ran up the last flight of stairs and slammed his door behind him. He stood at the door panting for a moment, then straightened up. Helga was pacing outside of his door. Hanschen felt himself laughing. She reminded him so much of his own daughter, sometimes. Short-tempered but hilarious, always busy. Hanschen smiled at the thought of his daughter, his only remaining kin in the world, the one who he would defy the Party and their wall to be with.

“You’re slower than molasses! Pack your things and leave or I’m coming in.” Helga shouted from the hallway.

Hanschen closed his eyes tightly and whispered a prayer, then grabbed his backpack and strapped it on. He walked slowly over to the window, took a deep breath, and stuck his foot out. Hanschen half expected to feel pain ripping through him right then, to have his leg shot clean off by a tall armored guard with an AK47. But no, it simply hung there, in limbo between the safety of the apartment and the unknown.

Hanschen took another breath and ducked his head out of the window. He immediately regretted his decision. Below him was the wall, yes, but in between it and the other side was a barren 50-meter track dotted with guard towers. This was all a horrible mistake. Hanschen had seen the track from his window before, but he had never stood over it while hanging out of his window. But it was too late now; he was out, in plain sight, there was no time for hesitation. Hanschen began to sweat heavily. My daughter needs me! No, think about your own life. You’re no good to her if you’re dead!

In the end, it was Helga who set things in a definitive motion. At that moment, Helga burst into the room, “Hanschen, what the hell is taking you so lo—“ Helga stopped, noticing that the only part of Hanschen still in the room was his right leg, and that soon tumbled out of the window as Hanschen leapt in shock at the landlord’s entrance. Hanschen heard leg crack as he hit the dirt behind the wall hard. He knew he had broken it, but there was no pain. That didn’t matter now, though.

Hanschen staggered to his feet but collapsed almost immediately as pain surged up the left side of his body. He screamed and fell forward into the dirt. Above him, Hanschen heard Helga yelling something, but he wasn’t sure what. His ears were ringing, his head was pounding, and he was still on the ground. He had to move. Hanschen lifted his face and looked around. The guards still didn’t notice that the Hanschen was out.
Slowly, Hanschen pulled himself forward with his elbows, keeping as low to the ground as he could. Tears poured from his eyes and clouded his vision, My daughter, my only daughter…I’ve been so foolish, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hanschen kept crawling. The pain of his broken leg was beginning to set in, and it seemed as if it was only intensifying as he kept going.

Suddenly, a cry pierced the air. Soldiers were shouting, siren were blaring, dogs were barking; he had been spotted. Hanschen abandoned his crawling and began to hop furiously towards the other side of the wall, towards West Berlin. He could see the apartments, they were right there, only forty meters away! Hanschen’s leg burned white hot, but he kept going. Thirty more meters. The sound of rifle fire pierced the air and the dirt exploded around Hanschen’s feet. Only twenty meters, twenty meters until freedom, until he would be reunited with his daughter. Suddenly, Hanschen felt another stab of pain, worse than his leg, rip through his shoulder. Hanschen collapsed, shrieking and clutching his shoulder as soldiers with big dogs and guns ran over.

The dogs were still barking and growling wildly, their canines leaping out of their mouths. Hanschen didn’t take any of this in, though. The pain had begun to fade; he was feeling a lot better. Hanschen slowly closed his eyes as the sounds of soldiers and dogs faded into the background. Through the dark, Hanschen saw his daughter, her warm smiling illuminating the black, and he knew he was in heaven.

Edit: Seperated it into paragraphs...

JosephB · 11-01-2007, 10:50 PM

Smiling Hobo, It's late and I got lazy toward the end and just started rewriting stuff. Annoying I know, but maybe there's something you can take away. There are some more things I noticed, but enough for now. If I have time, I'll come back to it.

There are some problems with some of the mechanics -- sentence structure and punctuation. But the good news is, this is a good story, thought out and well written for the most part.

So take this or leave it. Try reading you story aloud and I think you'll see what might trips up readers.

Quote:

The sky spat rain on Hanschen that had accumulated into small puddles that splashed water all over pedestrian’s shoes as car’s sped by, lurching up and down among the sea of potholes.

That's a mouthful. You probably need to divide that into at least two sentences

Quote:

Just across the street from the tea shop were a row of apartments, and behind the apartments, laid (use comma, remove laid) the Berlin Wall, standing in adamant opposition to anyone trying to get into or out of the city.

There's tense problem there -- I'm tripping up.

Quote:

A testament to the state of affairs in my beloved USSR, Hanschen thought bitterly.

I know he's being sarcastic but is he Russian? (a Soviet citizen) why my beloved USSR. If he's German, have him say "my beloved German Democratic Republic," or GDR --

Quote:

Hanschen sighed and prepared himself for the verbal onslaught. (Period -- don't need to come)

Quote:

Then he remembered that he hated tea, and houses for that matter, so it would make sense for him to avoid a teahouse.

Clever, but the hating houses seems like a non sequeter.

Quote:

…they were actually approaching quite fast.

I don't think you need that.

Quote:

Hanschen sighed and prepared himself for the verbal onslaught to come, (don't need to come)

Quote:

“TEA? YOU CAN AFFORD TEA BUT YOU CAN’T PAY YOUR RENT?”

Don't use all caps.

Quote:

the one who he would defy the Party and their wall to be with.

Tripped up on that.

Quote:

You’re slower than molasses! Pack your things and leave or I’m coming in,” Helga shouted from the hallway.

Comma

Quote:

Below him was the wall, yes, but in between it and the other side was a barren 50-meter track dotted with guard towers.

The wall was below him. Between it and the other side, there was a barren, 50-meter track dotted with guard towers.

Quote:

Hanschen had seen the track from his window before, but he had never stood over it while hanging out of his window.

That sounds a little awkward.

Quote:

In the end, it was Helga who set things in a definitive motion. (don't need.)

Quote:

Helga stopped, noticing that the only part of Hanschen still in the room was his right leg, and that soon tumbled out of the window as Hanschen leapt in shock at the landlord’s entrance.

This sentence is pretty awkward -- maybe try something like this:

Helga stopped, and noticed that only part of Hanschen was in the room — his right leg. Shocked by his landlord’s entrance, he leapt out the window and the leg tumbled out after him.

Quote:

Hanschen heard his leg crack

Quote:

That didn’t matter now, though.

You don't need that sentence.

Quote:

The guards still didn’t notice that the Hanschen was out.

The guards still hadn't noticed Hanschen.

Quote:

Tears poured from his eyes and clouded his vision.(period) My daughter, my only daughter…I’ve been so foolish, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Quote:

The pain of his broken leg was beginning to set in, and it seemed as if it was only intensifying as he kept going.

He began to feel the pain in his leg. It intensified as he crept forward.

Quote:

Soldiers were shouting, sirens were blaring, dogs were barking;

Quote:

Hanschen abandoned his crawling and began to hop furiously towards the other side of the wall, towards West Berlin.

Hanschen abandoned his crawling and began hopping furiously toward the wall and West Berlin.

He could see the apartments, they were right there, only forty meters away!

He could see the apartments, only forty meters away. He was almost there!

Quote:

Only twenty meters, twenty meters until freedom, until he would be reunited with his daughter.

Only twenty meters from freedom — then just ten. A few more meters and he would be reunited with his daughter.

The pain was fading. He closed his eyes and the sound of soldiers and dogs faded away. Through the dark, Hanschen saw his daughter. Her warm smile beckoned and he knew he was in heaven.

Futhark · 11-01-2007, 11:05 PM

Hobo, this is a very nicely done story. Especially for a school project. (Hell, when I was in school I'd just put a bunch of words on the paper, make sure they were lined up in the right order, and turn the thing in. I commend you.) I thought the tone was pretty spot-on: I saw the whole story through a grainy, black and white wartime-film filter. Very roman noir.

Below is a detailed edit. Corrections are in <brackets>. Comments are green.

EDIT: JosephB got his edit in while I was working on mine, so forgive any duplicate suggestions

Quote:

Hey...this is a short story I wrote for a school assingment. I'm looking for some feedback on what's good and what's bad about this story, and how I can fix it...thanks and enjoy.

The Wall

Hanschen wasn’t sure what he was doing in the teahouse that day. He didn’t even like tea, yet had already ordered and drained three cups. It tasted like dirty sewage <delete "to Hanschen"> and left a sour aftertaste in his mouth, but as his mother had said, “Tea has the power to calm the body and mind like no other concoction on this earth<." - punctuation goes inside of quotation marks in almost every case.> (I would suggest breaking this sentence into two separate ones: It tasted like dirty sewage and left a sour aftertaste in his mouth. But, as his mother <used to say>, "Tea has the power to calm the body and mind like no other concoction on this earth." Also (and this may just be me), I would replace "concoction" with something a bit more conversational. I don't know about you, but I don't hear people say that particular word very often.) Hanschen needed to calm down, but this tea wasn’t helping matters; if anything, it was only making things worse. The more he <thought> of calming down, the harder the reality of what he was about to do pressed on his <conscience.>

It was suicidal, really. Anyone who tried crossing the wall into West Germany was either killed or horribly maimed. Hanschen had already seen almost a dozen people drop out of apartment buildings and over the wall in an attempt to make it to the other side. So far, he had only seen one make it to the other side. One in twelve… <add a space after ellipsis> no, it was more like ten or eleven. So a one in ten or eleven chance of making it. Ten percent was the best-case scenario.

<new paragraph> Hanschen twitched slightly at the thought, then quickly paid and left.

The day was overcast and dreary. The sky spat rain <delete "on Hanschen"> that had accumulated into small puddles that splashed water all over <pedestrians's> shoes as <cars> sped by, lurching up and down among the sea of potholes. (In this sentence, it is unclear exactly what is "lurching up and down among the sea of potholes." Is it the rain, the puddles, the pedestrians, or the cars? I would suggest revision along the lines of The sky spat rain that came together in small puddles, which splashed themselves all over the shoes of whichever unfortunate pedestrian happened to be standing nearby when a car sped by. Not a great example, but you get the idea. And, as you no doubt noticed, I just deleted the "lurching" part. It doesn't really add to the scene.) Just across the street from the tea shop were a row of apartments, and behind the apartments <lay> the Berlin Wall, standing in adamant opposition to anyone trying to get into or out of the city.

<new paragraph>A testament to the state of affairs in my beloved USSR, Hanschen thought bitterly. (Again, this may just be me, but the "USSR" bit somewhat jarred me. First off, is Hanschen a Russian native? Because, although East Germany was a Soviet territory, it was an occupied territory. Meaning most of the people within East Germany were Germans under Soviet rule. And, since the USSR was an Ally during WWII, I seriously doubt a German citizen would come to call it "my beloved USSR." Now, if Hanschen is a Russian immigrant to Germany, all this can be ignored. I would suggest, however, if that is the case, that you make his heritage much more obvious within the story.)

Hanschen crossed the street and entered the apartment <building> directly facing the teahouse. <delete "It was his home." This is made obvious in the next sentence.> Hanschen wondered how he could have lived so close to the teahouse and never have entered it, but then he remembered that he hated tea, and houses for that matter, so it would make sense for him to avoid a teahouse. (This is a little too cutesy for my taste. I'd delete the reference to hating houses, since it really doesn't make much sense (why does he hate houses?), and just leave it at "he hated tea.") Hanschen began walking up the stairs to his room on the fourth floor. There was an eerie silence about the tenement, pierced only by the sounds of traffic outside and approaching footsteps… <again, put a space after an ellipsis>they were actually approaching quite fast.

“Hanschen Gidbol, you lazy bum, get your ass over here!”

<He> turned and blinked. It was Helga, the landlord. Hanschen sighed and prepared himself for the verbal onslaught to come<.>

<new paragraph: dialogue> “I am a very patient woman, Hanschen. When you said you’d have the rent two weeks ago, I waited. It was no problem. Another week goes, no rent. And now it’s been three weeks<,> Hancshen, three goddamned weeks. I don’t have any more time to waste. Give me my money now or get out.”

<"I'm - deleted extra space between quote and first letter> sorry, Helga,” Hanschen began<.> “I was just out for tea and ran into a friend of mine who said—“

“TEA? YOU CAN AFFORD TEA BUT YOU CAN’T PAY YOUR RENT?” (This is a matter of personal taste, but I find all-caps dialogue to be irritating and unnecessary. It's better to use italics and wording to indicate strong emotion. Here's an example: "Tea?" she screamed. "You can afford tea, but you can't even pay your rent?")

“No, no, I mean I was out and I ran into a friend who had tea, I didn’t have tea, no tea at all, and—“

Hanschen was cut off as a feather duster sailed through the air and connected with his head. Hanschen didn’t realize feather dusters could hurt so much, “GET YOUR STUFF AND LEAVE! GO, NOW, GO!” (See previous comment.)

Hanschen ran up the last flight of stairs and slammed his door behind him. He stood at the door panting for a moment, then straightened up. Helga was pacing outside of his door. Hanschen felt himself laughing. She reminded him so much of his own daughter, sometimes. Short-tempered but hilarious, always busy. Hanschen smiled at the thought of his daughter, his only remaining kin in the world, the one <person for whom> he would defy the Party and their wall <delete "to be with." This is made clear later in the story.> (Hanschen plays emotional ping-pong in this paragraph. First he's pissed (evidenced by the slamming door), then he's laughing, then he's reminiscing about his daughter. I'd either throw in some transitions or mellow out the emotions a bit.)

“You’re slower than molasses! Pack your things and leave<,> or I’m coming in<,>” Helga shouted from the hallway.

Hanschen closed his eyes tightly and whispered a prayer, then grabbed his backpack and strapped it on. He walked slowly over to the window, took a deep breath, and stuck his foot out. <He> half expected to feel pain ripping through him right then, to have his leg shot clean off by a tall armored guard with an <AK-47>. But no, it simply hung there, in limbo between the safety of the apartment and the unknown.

<Taking> another breath<, he> ducked his head out of the window. He immediately regretted his decision. Below him was the wall, yes, but in between it and the other side was a barren 50-meter track dotted with guard towers. This was all a horrible mistake. Hanschen had seen the track from his window before, but he had never stood over it while hanging out of his window. But it was too late now; he was out, in plain sight, there was no time for hesitation.

<new paragraph> Hanschen began to sweat heavily. (You've been starting a great many of your sentences with "Hanschen." While there's nothing stylistically wrong with this, it does tend to get monotonous. I'd recommend mixing things up a little, like so: Sweat began to pour down his face.) My daughter needs me! No, think about your own life. You’re no good to her if you’re dead!

In the end, it was Helga who set things in a definitive motion. At that moment, Helga burst into the room<.>

<new paragraph: dialogue> “Hanschen, what the hell is taking you so lo—“ Helga stopped, noticing that the only part of Hanschen still in the room was his right leg<.> <delete "and," begin new sentence with T>hat soon tumbled out of the window as Hanschen leapt in shock at the landlord’s entrance. (I would replace "landlord's" with "unexpected" in the last sentence.)

<new paragraph> Hanschen heard <his> leg crack as he hit the dirt behind the wall hard. He knew he had broken it, but there was no pain. That didn’t matter now, though.

Hanschen staggered to his feet<,> but collapsed almost immediately as pain surged up the left side of his body. (Wait, I thought there was no pain.

Consider revision or transition here.) He screamed and fell forward into the dirt. Above him, Hanschen heard Helga yelling something, but he wasn’t sure what. His ears were ringing, his head was pounding, and he was still on the ground. He had to move. <He> lifted his face and looked around. The guards still <hadn't noticed> that <he> was out.

<new paragraph> Slowly, Hanschen pulled himself forward with his elbows, keeping as low to the ground as he could. Tears poured from his eyes and clouded his vision<.>

<new paragraph> My daughter, my only daughter…I’ve been so foolish, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hanschen kept crawling. The pain of his broken leg was beginning to set in, and it seemed as if it was only intensifying as he kept going.

Suddenly, a cry pierced the air. Soldiers were shouting, siren were blaring, dogs were barking<. H>e had been spotted. Hanschen abandoned his crawling and began to hop furiously towards the other side of the wall, towards West Berlin. He could see the apartments, they were right there, only forty meters away! Hanschen’s leg burned white hot, but he kept going. Thirty more meters. The sound of rifle fire pierced the air and the dirt exploded around Hanschen’s feet. Only twenty meters, twenty meters until freedom, until he would be reunited with his daughter. Suddenly, Hanschen felt another stab of pain, worse than his leg, rip through his shoulder. Hanschen collapsed, shrieking and clutching his shoulder as soldiers with big dogs and guns ran over. (I would suggest that you break this last paragraph into several choppy paragraphs. You seem to be going for a telegraphic style to convey the action. Cutting it up into smaller chunks helps the reader digest what you're trying to tell him a bit better, especially with the choppy style you've got here.)

The dogs were still barking and growling wildly, their canines leaping out of their mouths. (Love that image.) Hanschen didn’t take any of this in, though. The pain had begun to fade; he was feeling a lot better. <He> slowly closed his eyes as the sounds of soldiers and dogs faded into the background. Through the dark, Hanschen saw his daughter, her warm smiling illuminating the black, and he knew he was in heaven.

Consider cutting off the last bit: "and he knew he was in heaven." Let the reader draw his own conclusions. We see Hanschen's vision fading, the sounds growing fainter... it's pretty obvious he's dying. Also, if you go ahead and just tell us that he's in heaven now, it brings up another point: if he can see his daughter there, she is already dead. Just something to think about.

Edit: Seperated it into paragraphs...

Overall, I really liked the story. You've got a good grasp of flow and pacing, and your spelling and grammar are pretty workable. We also get to know the character of Hanschen pretty well: we begin to care about him near the end of the tale. My only suggestion, as far as characterization goes, would be to "dip into" his mind just a tad more often. Let us see the world through his eyes.

Other than that, though, I think you've got a great piece. Hope to see some more from you!

JosephB · 11-02-2007, 07:54 AM

Futhark -- good job. You have far more patience and ability to point out areas of potential improvement on story and mechanics than I do.

I can see them -- can't do a very good job of articulating them. (Not really the right word.) Not yet anyway.

Smiling Hobo · 11-02-2007, 02:48 PM

Thanks for the feedback Futhark and Joe...this helps me out a lot!

Any comments from other members are welcome, too.

Taxiday · 11-02-2007, 06:30 PM

Having seen that blot on Mankind in person, I tend to look at your story quite positively. I just wonder if you were actually there and saw it?
To me, it was the ugliest thing I ever saw and I hope you can find a way to stress that. I saw a bit of irony and wonder if that too can be emphasized.
A lot of people know the damned thing was there but they don't really understand it's impact. For God's sake - people were willing to die to get across it!

misterchris · 11-02-2007, 10:13 PM

I got lost at "dirty sewage". Is there such a thing as clean sewage?

Brendan N · 11-03-2007, 04:08 AM

Liked this one quite a bit, as far as writing for school goes this is such a treat. Futhark has done a wonderful job editing this for you. I agree particularly with what he said about the ending - take heaven out of the equation. If you want to communicate that Hanschen now has some piece of mind, go about it more poetically, to contrast the rest of the narrative. Be subtle and suggestive rather than "and-then-he-went-to-heaven-the-end."

Overall very nicely done, kudos!