JacquelineDawson's profile
AGE:
21
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: November 17
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: November 17
Tiny Dane studying at the National Academy of Writing in Birmingham, England.
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My scrawny legs tremble, as I stand naked in front of the window. It’s freezing, but my mind can’t fully process it. I only register because when I finally shift my attention from his eyes on me from across the courtyard to my reflection looking back at me in the glass surface, I can see the goosebumps covering my deprived figure. Makes you wonder why he’s looking in the first place, doesn’t it? Makes you wonder just how few girls must have shown an honest interest in ...
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I’ve got my back against the wall. It’s freezing, but I can’t quite move. I’ve placed myself opposite the bed, a fag in my mouth. I take a drag and allow for the smoke to slowly pour out from between my lips. Disbelief builds up as I just sit here, staring at the weak old wooden bed. I can’t believe I fucked William Ray Smith. I can’t believe I fucked him in my own bed. I tap the cigarette and the ashes fall into the bin. I look up at the window, replaying ...
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“All I’m asking is if he’s here!” I say, thinking up yet another way to kill the stupid cunt in front of me. “Is that such a difficult question to answer?” “Please lower your voice, Miss,” the guy presses on, adding a fitting hand gesture to go with that request. He’s taller than me, face full of dimples. I know I’d feel just a little bit sorry for him if he weren’t so fucking obnoxious. “I’ve already told you I ca...
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I lunge The Black Album into my bag and get up as the bell rings. Jostle my way past fellow seniors heading for the door, and disappear out into the hallway that is already crowded. Everybody’s heading for the cafeteria, which makes it even more difficult to get out of this place. I fight my way toward the main entrance, but the flow of students heading in the opposite direction makes it difficult. When they’ve all finally passed, I find I’ve hardly moved at all. I reach my ...
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I have a pretty vivid imagination. That’s why every time I shut my eyes for just the smallest of moments, I see William’s. Looking at me with puzzlement, bewilderment, he’s trying to understand why I hold the gun in my hand and why it’s latest bullet has blown a hole through his head. There’s a quiet knock on the door. Too quiet for it to be Nic. I sigh, but I don’t open my eyes. The image is so clear. So perfected. “Jackie-darling?” I hear my m...
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Reviews
This reads more as extract from a novel than a short story, if you ask me. Maybe it's because it feels unfinished and seems the kind of story that has more both before and after this scene. I think you should definitely change the title. What with the mentioning wings and all, really, in my mind some sort of angel is flying about - not that I'd go for Guitar Angel, either. If I had to point out *one* thing I think would maybe make this even better, I'd give her some more thougts, reveal some ...
100.0% Review Quality (2 Votes)
Final critique at the bottom. I didn’t know what he meant at the time, although I do now. but the man who’d made all the blood come out held me close and told me not to worry → Rephrase? And that man, he was old enough to be my father → Nice touch, but could be used better, I’m sure. And after he left I cried, quietly because I did not want anyone else to hear → I’d love a longer break in between ‘cried’ and ‘quietly’. Maybe do it ‘And after he left, I cried – quietly, because I did not…’ Tha...
You should trim some of the words away so the rhyme will come more naturally - and keep it in here because it's a nice little piece of text. Categorizing anything 'Poetry' makes it sound so serious, in my opinion. I'd rather you call this a humouristic rhyme (; I loved the last verse - maybe I'd change the "that" to a "'cause", but well - we're all different, I imagine (: For now anyway. I fear the day I'll end up looking like my mother ;D
It wasn't exactly "haha"-hilarious, but I really enjoyed this. If you ever feel like expanding this, I'd LOVE to see just a bit more of the female anger (which could probably be my own on a bad day) presented by the witchlike woman with the pot and the bottles of oil. It's unbelievable how insane we can be, sometimes. Almost as unbelievable as men's ability to leave dishes before work. Isn't that just the worst?
Blistful should be blissful, ignorence should be ignorance. Other than that, I really liked this! Power or pain. Excellent question. Kudos.
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