Thank you, it sure helped.
Flash Fiction / A short biography.
At age of one, I opened my eyes to see the world.
At age of two, they showed me a mirror and I closed my eyes not to see this ugly world.
At age of three I began to go.
At four, I learned to return.
At age of five, I wrote my first story.
At six I learned to write.
At seven I learned to read, but after I saw some reviews on my writings, I decided to stop reading.
At eight I went to the school.
At nine, I returned. One hour was too much for me.
At age of ten, I went to grade A. Again.
At age of eleven, they recollected that people like to celebrate their birthdays and made a party for my father.
At twelve, they made a birthday party for me too.
At thirteen, everybody went home.
At fourteen I learned to swim.
At fifteen, we went to the sea to practice my swimming.
At sixteen, I was thrown out from the school.
At seventeen, in the prison, I learned to shave.
At eighteen, I went to the army.
At eighteen+15 minutes, I was thrown away from the army.
At nineteen I opened my first startup.
At twenty, I sold it to Google.
At twenty-one, I finished paying to Google for their buying my company.
At twenty-two I opened another startup.
At twenty-three I opened other three startups.
At twenty-four I learned to count to hundred.
At twenty-five, I sold my companies for a hundred and something. (I think, something being millions.)
At twenty-six I bought a bank.
At twenty-seven, my bank bought 157 buildings.
At twenty-eight, my bank went bankrupt. I remained with a country which the bank couldn't sell.
At twenty-nine, I bought a government.
At thirty, the government paid me a hundred and something for the return of the loan I gave them from the money I loaned from them before.
At thirty-one, the world went "boom". Prices went through the floor and continued to dive.
At thirty-two, I gave up flying to the Senate Investigations in my Boeing. I went by yacht.
At thirty-tree, all the life was before me. So the half of the world. Another half I had to sell as divorce settlement.
At thirty-four, I began to write stories.
At thirty-five, I began to write poems.
At thirty-six, I began to show my writing to others.
At thirty-six + a day, I ended showing anything to anybody.
At thirty-seven, I did nothing. Nothing good, I mean.
At thirty-eight I bought all the writers.
At thirty-nine I won the first place in the writing competition. I wasn't sure, though, if I like to be the only participant, but I soothed myself by winning another similar competition.
At forty, I understood that I don't want anything more and finished. Everything. Totally. I simply pressed that big red knob and heard the earth cracking. Lights going out. People evaporating.
At forty + one minute I learned to swim in terribly hot, terribly stinky, terribly repulsive substance in terrible darkness of terrible place. They didn't permit me to stay at hell telling I would terrify other residents. So they opened a place just for me - my personal darker than black hell.
At forty-one thousand, I stopped counting years. It's easier to count them in thousands…
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TerJa reviewed Version 2 -
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What an original. albeit depressing poem. Well, if it is a poem at all. Anyhow,, it is good.
still, since this is a review I’ll offer a couple of suggestioins.
First, I don;t quite follow the sequence of the first few years. (At 5 you write your first story, at 6 you learn to write?) Isn’t that backwards? Then at 7 you learn to read? Am I missing something?
Also near the end the writing thing comes back again and again is, to me, unclear.
This is a good piece which, I think borders on very good. Keep writing.
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stefykg reviewed Version 1 -
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The evil I see in you doesn’t hit me until the end then you look to me as a wannabe Devil. I don’t understand where you start out average, continue average, then you end up being blacker then the demons already in Hell? (Hell should be capitalized right?) Anyway, I don’t think you can do this list. It made me utterly bored. You need depth to the pain. You need to show how you got to that 41 thousand years of life in a darker place than most because I fail to see what makes you different from anyone else. You have random thoughts that don’t connect well in the end.
TnD reviewed Version 1 -
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Overall, I think it’s an interesting ‘biography.’ I think that ‘ages’ five and six should be switched, due to not making sense. But, even with the switch, you would still give the same impression as you’re aiming for.
At the age of nine, you make a mention of an hour, but at the end it’s a thousand years. Continuity error or trying to throw off the reader?
Twenty-three : ANother three startups?
Twenty-five : The parentheses don’t make sense. I think you’re aiming for it supposedly being ‘hundreds of millions’ or something like that?
Twenty-eight : When did you buy a country?
Thirty-six : You already got reviews of your writing when you were 7.
Thirty-six + a day : ended [up] showing
Forty + one minute : This is a rather unenviable phrase. Terrible (while paints the picture) draws away. I found myself skimming after the first three. “hell[,] telling [me] I…” “my personal [??] darker”
Hope this helps. Thanks for sharing.
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