zeeby

Frank stumbled into the street on that cold autumn night, drunk as death. I remember hearing screams, though I stood still as ever, staring straight into the depths of hell. The next sound was a sickening crunch. After that came silence, just for a second, but for one miserable second. I wanted to kill myself in that eternity masquerading as a second. His body finally hit the ground with a thud. The blood rushed from my face.
Everybody ran to his side screaming and gripping at their hair in disbelief. Sarah looked like she was honestly out of her mind. I just stared. The car was a blue sedan, though my memory from that day is shoddy, and I can’t recall what the driver looked like nor what brand his car was. Shit, I’m sure I can guess it anyway, his face I mean. I remember feeling terrible for him.
Frank’s blood was all over the hood of the blue sedan. It was honestly a sickening scene. After the initial shock was gone from me, I rushed over to Frank’s side. He was still alive, though I immediately wished he wasn’t. I could tell he was gone, and he was in so much pain. He didn’t scream, he didn’t even cry. Blood was pouring out of his mouth like a goddamn faucet. I remember just before he died, he grabbed the collar of Gary’s jacket tightly. His eyes bulged out his head so far I thought they may have been knocked loose by the collision. Seconds after, his grip lessened, and his bulging eyes closed. There was a gallon of blood under my feet.
I still have the Adidas sneakers from that night, stored deep within my closet. I can’t throw them out, although I don’t know why. They have been the cause of more tossing and turning at night then most normal people could ever have in a lifetime.
I think that this town never really got over Frank’s death. You can see it in the way police handle teenage drinking, and the curfews of most of the kids around town. Besides that, school hasn’t been the same.
I have to say that one of the things that most shames the memory of a dead person is constant reminders. When the gymnasium was built in honor of Frank Gugilli, I was mortified. A year after his death, and they just have to keep on shoving it down our throats. Frank was dead, and we were all fucked up for life. Most kids don’t go home with their best friend’s blood on their hands.
“Jesus dude, how many times?” Chris was always so hard on me. He was pretty much a jackass to everybody. “Do you like summer school or something? This is three years straight now.”
“Fuck you, I can’t help it.” Of course I could help it, I wasn’t dumb or anything. I don’t know why I didn’t do more to be honest. Sometimes I like to think it is because I was so incredibly gifted that I didn’t see the point in school, but I think it’s more of an inate laziness in my person. That is probably my biggest flaw.
Jack sat silently on the couch, eyes straight at the television. He had dropped out at the beginning of the year; Nothing like a high school dropout to make yourself feel better about the direction of your life.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. You’re just an idiot. What are we doing tonight, did you guys talk to anybody?” Of course, Chris knew that if anybody had heard anything, he would have already knew.
“Nah,” Jack said, “You?” We all knew that he had heard something, but it was like playing a game, trying to find out what was going on from him. He could never just tell you what was going through his head, he needed you to ask. I think it was a control thing.
“Yeah, some slut uptown is having a party.” Chris looked smug and victorious. It made me mad.
That night, we headed over to the girl’s house. Her name was Madison Henry. She would randomly have blowouts during summer, and that particular one was quite a blowout. So many randoms showed, I could say with conviction our entire school was there. I drank heavily.
A couple of the boys met up with us, and we all played pong deep into the night. Almost ritualistically, Dan stepped outside for a “piss break”. Nobody knew what he did during these long absences, but there were many theories. Dan was a good looking kid, and I knew he was popular with a lot of the girls in the grade. I figured he was just very sketchy about his endeavors with girls. Chris secretly thought he was gay, and always shot down my theory. He was convinced that Dan didn’t enjoy the party scene, and would just leave out of boredom or uneasiness. “Sketchy fuck, if he doesn’t want to be here, why does he come at all?”
Chris was a fat kid, with curly black hair and beetle black eyes. He always wore baggy shorts, not because he thought he was gangster or anything like that, he just liked baggy shorts. He loved classic rock, and thought any song that didn’t play on his radio stations was a bad song. Though he had many flaws, I always saw him as one of my best friends. We fought a lot.
Dan made his way back to the party. It looked like he had smoked outside, because his eyes were bloodshot. “Oh my god, are you stoned?” He sure looked it.
“Nah, nah,” he said with a smile. “Take you in pong bitch.” I couldn’t turn down a challenge. I picked up the ball and took the first shot, with a small boy named Rory as my partner. Rory was one of the most loyal kids I knew. He was funny, and never argumentative. Though we NEVER hung out alone, I considered him one of my favorite people on earth and usually saw him at least twice a week outside of school.
After the game, I found myself feeling a little woozy. Buzzed, and soon to be smashed. That was the point I was at, and I was on track to black out at the rate I was at. The girls came in and all the guys looked up. Veronica and I exchanged glances and looked away quickly, grinning widely. Veronica had black hair and blue eyes. We’d hooked up a couple of times, but nothing serious. Beside her strolled in Shannon, Sarah, Jamie, Kelly, Brianna, and Shauna.
“Shot Jamie as a partner,” Joe blurted out. Jamie was cool, though I always saw her as a little bit uptight. She didn’t talk much, except to Joe, with whom she had something going on, though none of us could figure out quite what it was.
Joe was a big guy if I have ever seen one. He had to weigh 250, though he wasn’t fat at all. Oddly, he wasn’t jacked either, he was just meaty. He was a good looking guy too, though not quite as much as Dan.
Dan was quiet around girls, though not in a bad way. “Hey guys,” he said with a coy smile.
“DAN!” Shannon screamed, jumping on top of him and engaging in a tight hug. Everybody loved Dan, except for Chris who thought he was a sketch.
“What’d you guys do today?” I asked them.
“Ah nothing, just kind of sat around what about you?” Kelly wasn’t pretty, but I always kind of saw her as a good friend of mine. She was just easy to talk to.
“Same, haha.” There was a whole lot of sitting around in my town back then. Nobody seemed to have any life in them when they weren’t drinking. I never understood it, but it really seemed like the town was only ever alive at night. The 20 bars down the strip would light up, and music could be heard no matter what block you were on. Nobody drove drunk.

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SeattleGhostWriter

First and foremost, when posting in forums like these - please make sure that you separate your paragraphs out. It makes for easier reading. That is my first tidbit of advise here.

Secondly, your first paragraph is not working at all.

The best thing to do is to read the sentences out loud and ask yourself if they sound natural. The first paragraph does not do anything to the reader. So what, some guy got drunk and the narrator is just in some unemotional shell. Who really cares? This is something you don't want your readers to think or conclude.

Here is a better rendering of what you have written. I have used some of the same words, but added my own for a different type of flow.

For one miserable second came silence, but for one second. Frank stumbled into the street, drunk of course. I think it was a cold Autumn night as I remember the screams. All I could do was stare into the depths of hell when I heard the sickening sound of metal meeting flesh. I wanted to kill myself in that eternity. An eternity masquerading as a second. The blood rushed from my face as I watched his body finally hit the asphalt, bouncing lifeless before coming to rest.

The difference between what you have written to that of what I have written is that the reader is suddenly drawn into the narrators world. There are questions. The reader can't help but want to know why and how. In a sense, they are seeing the events unfold from the eyes of the narrator. It is the reader who are the ones seeing these events. The reader is actually there witnessing these events. That is what a writer attempts to accomplish within the first sentence, and subsequent sentences alike. The entire paragraph sets up the scene in the readers mind. They know it is a cold August Night, they know there are people screaming, they know someone died and how they died, and they see it all because you are showing to the reader exactly what the narrator is seeing and relating.

In the paragraph that you have written, the reader does not have this connection. There is no reason given to the reader why they should care or even venture further into finding out why and how.


Again, very awkward flow here. Who is everyone? How many is Everyone? You only mention two people - the narrator and a female character? There seems to be some emotional detachment here. Something that can work to your advantage, or disadvantage.

Sarah was out of her mind. I just stood there and stared. The car was a blue sedan, though my memory of that night is a bit shoddy. I tried to recall what the driver looked like or what brand his car was, but all I could remember was the vehicle being a blue sedan. The only thing that stands out is how those with us reacted. Screaming, running to Frank's lifeless body. Only I remained there on the sidewalk. Sarah had cradled his head in her lap as she stared at me, shouting something.

Notice how I keep the same flow, the same quickened pace. This is how emotional detachment can work to your advantage. It shows the reader how the narrator is feeling, how they are attempting to recollect that night.

I hope some of this helps.

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Andrew Carson

Ok again like mentioned above... spacing. However as for the first paragraph, I was finding it a good read in a strange way! It reminded me of Tim Burton or something like that. Look at all the comments above but remember you can never please everyone so do what feels right.