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Old 01-13-2010, 05:17 AM
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Icon14 I urgently need help!!!


I've been writing this story for months, and now I have finished it I need someone to tell me what they think. Could someone read the first three chapters and tell me if they wanna read more? Just one thing - ats aimed at teenagers.:smile: Oh, and Essence, yes you can read it!
Prologue
Edward’s Diary
28th December 1903
Tomorrow I will be no more. My life will be at its end. In my heart I know that my life of threat and torture is simply because I was born at the wrong time.
I do not regret dying. I know Edith will grieve for a while, but soon she will forget. Everyone will forget about the life and times of us. I am the last left, and as soon as that trapdoor opens we will be no more.
This country is, and will remain forever, a place of natural beauty, but now I am about to be led out in front of a crowd of thousands of people cheering, waiting for me to hang limply and freely from a piece of rope in the wind in a place of such horrors for me that you could not imagine. Bodmin Gaol has been a place of suffering for me over the past three weeks, and for this reason I am glad horrible torture and pain that I have suffered for many, many devastating years will end for me now.
And I hope that if anyone ever finds this diary, then they too will learn about our story; the story of suffering and wonder, and pain and magic. The things from fairytales, that is beyond anyone else’s wildest dreams. After all, we were, and always will be, merely diamonds in the rough.
Chapter One
Maia’s Journal
12th April 1995
Today I heard some absolutely fantastic news. I am going to have a baby. It was the best news I have heard in such a long time that I screamed with joy when I found out. I am keeping my fingers crossed that the baby is a girl, after all, as a female myself, I would be closer to her than to a boy, and, after all, girls tend to be better behaved than boys.
Hopefully, my fiancé’s family curse will not have an effect, otherwise I will be devastated. I know that there is a ninety-six percent chance that it will directly affect her, but I really do not want to think about that. I am just hoping that it will not have an effect on her, but there is only a one in twenty-five chance that she will be untouched. I do not wish to think about what would happen to me and my baby if the curse was to plague us with the misery that it will certainly cause to both me and my baby if it was to take hold. I hate discussing this topic, despite hate being such a strong word, and I do not want to write anymore about this as I have only just stopped myself from weeping, and it would be silly to start again.
The second I found out about my unborn spectacle, for I think new life is such a wonderful thing, I went to find Jack. I love him dearly, and he knows it. I have always had a crush on him, but it just took me a few years to be honest to myself. We’ve been dating for five years now, and as the obvious father of the baby, he deserves to know what has happened.
He is the most affectionate, kind, person I have ever met, and as if that was not enough, he spoils me even though he has hardly enough money to feed and clothe himself! He proposed to me two days ago with a beautiful white gold and diamond ring, and said that it just meant that he would not be able to afford a house, and would have to live on the Arbington estate. That was horrible because I felt very guilty. The Arbington estate has a very high crime rate, and it was well known that that was where all the drug dealers and alcoholics lived.
I strolled through the most obvious place to find him. Covent Garden Market, the liveliest market in town.
There is always a rainbow of different colours scattered in every space. I cannot even begin to list the many colours.
There are people and animals everywhere. Harmonies of different languages and cultures weave in and out of the stalls and people. It was the perfect place to find my perfect boyfriend! Children running from stall to stall were laughing and crying, and just enjoying the time spent with their friends. There are plenty of stalls that sell such a wide assortment of different things. Trinkets, scarves, chocolate brownies, shoes, wooden hand carved chairs, ocean fishing tackle (although where you are supposed to fish round here, I do not know!), as well as countless other exhilarating and exotic items of phenomenon and wonder.
Soon I ran into Paul, one of Jack’s best and oldest friends, as they have known each other since playschool. He was his only real friend apart from me.
‘Oh, Maia, erm, I have some very appalling information that I have to tell you about.’ Paul told me. ‘I tried to...pray to god I tried. I’m … so sorry. So, so sorry. I hate to bring such dreadful news to you, but you need to know that there was nothing I could do. Jack has been in a horrible fight, and is now unconscious in hospital…’
‘What?’ I cried, interrupting him. ‘No! My darling! Where is he? I must visit immediately.’
‘The hospital near here, I cannot remember what it’s called. St Pantres, no, wait, St Peters, yeah, that’s it. St Peters.’
As soon as I heard, I ran all the way, or at least, as much as I could manage. Being pregnant, it is very difficult to run without getting out of breath. .
That was how I found out in the first place. I found that out the hard way. I was getting so out of breath, so my next-door-neighbour, who is a nurse, and who also has several children herself, informed me that I should do a pregnancy test. That day I realised that my period was one week late. The pregnancy test was positive, so I went to get confirmation from the local doctor’s surgery. This was also positive, and this brings me up to a couple of hours ago.
When I eventually arrived, I went up to the reception.
‘Excuse me Madame; but you will have to wait for an appointment. Doctor Mathews is exceptionally busy at the moment. Would you like to sit down? You look incredibly out of breath.’ The nurse at reception told me. She was wearing classic nurse blue, and she had a polished nametag pinned onto her neatly ironed uniform. Because of this, I was able to work out her name as being Joan Washington.
‘No, I am here because I have been told that my boyfriend is in here. I believe that he has been in a fight, and is now unconscious. I am just so worried about him. The second I knew, I ran all the way here. Please take me to him. I am so worried about him.’ I panted. After running all the way here, I was still exhausted.
‘Okay, I will need you to tell me what he is called, and then Doctor Baker will take you to him.” Joan told me, and looked down at her keyboard, ready to look him up.
So I gave her his details, and she told another nurse to take me to Jack’s doctor. I was then taken into my poor beloved’s room.
I had the shock of my life, as there lay Jack, but it didn’t look at all like him. I was about to turn round and say to the doctor ‘that is definitely not him. You have taken me to the wrong person.’ But I knew that there was no denying it. My handsome boyfriend, with his face was all smashed up, and bloodied bandages all over his body. His chest was all sliced up, and the most devastating thing was that he was not awake. A tear came running down my cheek. I am quite strong, and I never normally cry, but I think you would agree, if you saw him lying there, that I had good reason to. I saw a chair next to his bed, and went to sit down.
‘I do not think it is a good idea for you to stay longer,’ said the Doctor ‘after all, you are in such a state.’
‘No, I will not leave his bedside,’ I stated, ‘after all, I love him dearly, and would only end up staying up all night worrying about him, and having nightmares about what he must have been through.’
‘O.K., now I can see how worried you are. If only my wife would worry about me as much as you worry about him. He must be well loved.’
‘He has to be,’ I said, ‘for neither I nor he has anyone else,’ I said, for after all, we do not, at least, until the baby arrives. That is another eight or so months away. I am writing this waiting for my beloved to wake, but have now run out of things to say.
Jacks Journal.

12th April 1995
As soon as my eyelids fluttered open, I saw the most attractive thing. My girlfriend was looking down at me, my hand in hers. Then it hit me. I am in hospital. I remembered the whole thing as if it was only a few moments ago.
There I was, minding my own business in the market, getting the shopping, when all of a sudden I heard plenty of people shouting thief, and a stall owner, whom I am great friends with, chasing after me and telling me to return it. To show him that I was innocent, and had nothing to do with it, I put my hands in my pocket, and to my astonishment, I pulled out jewellery! There were expensive watches, pearl necklaces, gold rings… and numerous other high-priced things.
When I went to give them back, he picked up a bottle of glass off of an alcohol stall, and I heard a swishing sound, followed by a crash as the glass bottle hit my chest, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Liquor and my scarlet blood were flying everywhere. I instantly brought my hands to my eyes and face, to protect them from any further attack. Soon there was another swishing sound, and something hard slammed into my back. I yelled out and brought my hands to my back. It must have been an elderly gentleman’s walking stick, as I heard someone saying ‘give it back’ in a voice that must have come from an old mouth. The sound of cane on flesh and cloth sounded repulsive. It felt repulsive too, like when my father used to beat me. Then it came into contact with my skull a number of times. The last thing I remember is swirling into complete darkness.
Then of course, I woke up. It had been a terrifying encounter with pain and near death experiences all in one. And it was an experience I was in no hurry to repeat.
Suddenly, I felt a tear drop onto my bruised and painful chest, followed by another, and another, and another. I tried to sit up, but failed, wincing at the pain running through my already powerfully beaten body. I let out a groan.
‘You are alive. I cannot believe it. Praise the lord. I was starting to think the worst.’ My sweet darling said.
‘I am so glad I regained consciousness looking at the beautiful thing I have just seen.’ I said to her, letting a phoney, but seemingly real smile replace my frown to stop her from worrying about me.
‘You are just the same as ever, are you not?’ she said. ‘Just as flattering as ever… What happened?’ She asked, so I told her, and tried to ignore the shock and tears that ran down her cheek whilst I told her. She hugged me, but seeing me wince when I tried to hug her back made her cry even more.
I had never, ever seen her cry before. Not when her mother died, not when her father passed away, not even when a lorry hit her beloved pet dog, Douglas.
‘I found out that you were in hospital from your friend, Paul.’ She told me. ‘I had come looking for you with tremendous news, but I was horrified when I was told you were... well... hurt.’ Maia told me. Eagerly, I asked her what it was.
‘You will be a father.’
All of a sudden, I was speechless. It was great news, but, alas, it changed when there was a knock on the room’s door. And this could all be illustrated with merely one knock, and my reply.
'Come in.’ I murmured, but I wish I had kept quiet. If I had kept silent, everything would still be ok.
It was the police, and I knew what it was going to be about.
‘We are glad to see that you are awake.’ one of them said. ‘If you were not, we would not be able to do this.’ He continued. ‘Jack Bailey, I am placing you under arrest for stealing countless valuable possessions, including a Timex watch and a pearl necklace. Everything you say is being recorded, and may be used as evidence against you in court.’
Oh my goodness, what have I done. That’s the whole point, nothing, but everyone else seems to think that I did. Life could not get much worse for us.
‘You cannot take him.’ Maia exclaimed, for when people she loves need her she is always loyally there for them. ‘He is not well, as you can see from all the bandages covering his frail body. He has been arrested for something he did not even do. Where is the justice in that?’
‘We can, as we have permission from his doctor, who does not want a delinquent in his hospital, and there is no justice for criminals that do evil.’
‘But…’ She tried.
‘There will be no buts from you unless you would also like to be arrested.’
‘It is not worth it my darling. Do not be concerned, as I will be safe and sound the next time you see me. I promise. And, if you ever get sad, think of me, and remember that I would not want you to cry over a nothing like me. I love you so much, my darling.’ And so, they took me away.
I am sat in my cell now, writing this. It is the only thing stopping me from completely breaking down. My punishment is going to be for thirteen complete years if I am found guilty, and that’s if I behave. Who does not believe in thirteen being unlucky, do you believe now?
I do not even want to think of my unborn child. I have let them down. I am not even going to try to appeal, I am short on money as it is, so will not be able to afford a lawyer, and if I plead not guilty, and am found out to be guilty then it will add another year to my sentence, and I am not willing to risk that. Not for the world, after all, the sooner I am released, the sooner I can help Maia look after our child.
Maia’s Journal

Later

I have been weeping into my pillow for hours. It is not possible for me to stop. I have as good as lost the most important thing in my life. What am I to do? What have I done to deserve this? I love Jack too much, and now I miss him too much. It is more than my heart can bear. How will I cope for thirteen years without him? I love him.
October 2nd 1995
Today I am to find out whether the curse has affected my unborn baby or not. I will not ask to know the gender just yet though. I want that to be a surprise. I am just getting ready to go out. I am still crying over Jack, but he says that I must move on. It is breaking my heart to do this, but it is what he wants. I have promised to tell him the results too. I hope my beautiful baby will be ok.
Later
I am beside myself. The curse has had an effect on the baby, and what makes things worse for me is that it is against my beliefs to have abortion because it is killing a living thing that’s life depends on me making the right decision. What am I to do? I have just got back home from visiting Jack. I hate to bring bad news to him, especially with what he has gone through the past months, but he has to know. I cannot leave him in the dark about this.
My baby is not going to be normal, but a… an Asiophorius. The name given to the only other type of human that exists. They were despised by this country because they were different. I bet you did not know about there being two types of human. People were too ashamed to let anyone of the future know what had happened.
Jack’s grandfather was the last one, and he placed the curse. Apparently, just before they hung him, he placed the annoying curse upon my beautiful, yet mysterious unborn infant. Our baby would be the survivor, the sole survivor. He or she would be the one that would revive the entire population.
Last time they were on earth, they were killed in very inhumane ways, which is why I do not want to bring it into such a cruel, heartless world. The poor people were treated like pests.
Mind, folks of long ago thought that they actually were pests, hence the nickname, Street Rat.
This used to be the only country with them, as it is believed that they are more evolved humans. This was their territory until we acquired it from them, in very merciless ways. We slaughtered them, even though it was us who had done wrong. Not them. It was us, and our evil doings.
Jacks journal

October 2nd 1995
Today I gathered some appalling information. My family curse has had an effect on our baby. Maia came to visit me about an hour ago, and she told me.
My fingers are sensation-less as it is dreadfully cold in here, and it shall get colder as the winter begins to commence. I miss Maia exceedingly, and I am continuously exhausted. At the end of the year I am to start working picking up litter and things like that with the other inmates, but until then, I am bored, bored, bored. I can say I’m actually looking forward to it because it would be a chance to see the sky and get my first taste of fresh air in many long and boring weeks.
There is nothing to do apart from tallying the seconds, anticipating the time until I am out of here and therefore able to help our beautiful unborn child.


Chapter Two
The Independent:

29th December 1995.



Baby found



Today we have learnt that a newborn baby has been found in Springfield Alley.
It was found wearing just a nappy, and was believed to be fit and healthy, and only about a day old. We later learnt that she was put back and left there, with doctors hoping that she will eventually die due to what she is. She is an Asiophorius. There is no threat to the general public as she will die soon. The only reason why she was not destroyed within an instant was due to the fact that otherwise our beloved country's government would have blood on its hands and look malicious to the other countries in the European Union, and thus likely to be banned from it. If she causes a problem, we will endeavour to use this as an excuse to annihilate her.
We have just spoken with Dr Mathews, the man who discovered the baby.
‘Never in all my life have I heard of such a preposterous thing. This species were driven to extinction nearly one hundred years ago. We conducted a test on everyone else in the country and found that there was none left. I do not know what can be done.’ If anyone out there knows anything about it, do not hesitate to contact Dr Mathews on 07682987743
WRITTEN BY PETER RODGERS



Jacks Journal
29th December 1995
Oh my god. Oh my god. I cannot believe what my eyes have seen in the newspaper. They have found our child. I have not yet found out what it is called, or whether it is a boy or girl, although it is reasonably obvious, for the reason that Maia would not have given it up had it been a boy.
A boy does not have any noticeable powers, unlike the girls. No one would ever realize. There would be no conspicuous difference. It must be a girl. If it was a girl, then it would be obvious that she was different, and that would be a one way ticket to her execution. I hope she will survive, because I need her to love me.
Maia’s Journal

30th December 1995
I am exhausted as I gave birth yesterday to a beautiful baby girl. She had stunning dark brown eyes.
I did not want to abandon her, like I said, I wanted a little girl, but I could not live with myself knowing that I had let a living thing into the world that would be tormented for the rest of its life. I did not want that to happen. I left her there so that she would die soon.
I hope that if she does live then she will understand. I do not want her hating me for doing what I had to do, for she would have been slaughtered had I looked after her, and Jack would have got the blame for allowing her to be born in the first place.
Jacks Journal
3rd December 1999
Today is to be my court enquiry. They said that I had to go through with one, as it is tradition. The police have decided that if I am found out to be guilty, they will transfer me to another jail somewhere. Rumour has it that it has yet to be confirmed which, but they told me that they would not inform me anyway.
Later

My poor darling… at the hearing she wept through it all. Because of this, I came to the decision to plead innocent, as there would be at least a miniscule amount of hope that I would be found innocent. The court went badly. I will write down the important things below.
‘Now, who is the offender?’ said the court judge, with the white wig sat on top of his otherwise baldhead, and a colossal pink nose sticking out underneath his gigantic bushy eyebrows. Honestly, I’m surprised that there wasn’t a lion or at the very least a monkey living in them. His ears flapped, and he kept scratching them whilst he said it. He looked very angry as he had burst purple blood vessels on his nose and cheeks, and his forehead was a collage of many frown lines woven together. Furthermore, he had the worst figure I had ever seen. What had I let myself into? But anyway back to the court…
Two armed officers heaved me on. I informed them that I would walk on by myself, but they said that they would not risk it, and that they did not trust me. They were very scary individuals, with giant muscles that looked big enough to break my arm the way that I would break a match.
From then on, I knew that winning the court case would be almost impossible, maybe impossible.
‘Jack Oliver Bailey, you are charged with stealing many valuable things including Timex watches, twenty-four carat gold diamond necklaces, and many other very expensive objects. How do you plead?’
‘Jack, please do not plead guilty.’ Maia piped up, a fresh fountain of tears streaming down her face. Honestly, if she had cried much more then the courtroom would have begun to give the impression of being the world’s largest and deepest swimming pool! I am sorry for trying to be funny in a serious time like this, but if I am how I should be then I will cry enough water to supply Niagara Falls for a century.
‘Silence in the court at all times!’ judge responded, followed by a quick, loud tap of the hammer, which echoed around the courtroom, and startled everyone. ‘If not, I will be forced to have all unofficial personnel removed from the courtroom.’
Instantly, I had a flashback. It was like a soap where they are in the courtroom and they have flashbacks, but I swear what I saw was genuine. I was walking through the crowd and felt something brush past my pocket; perhaps it was a hand. It could have reached into it and put the jewellery there to frame me. I then saw a man with a black moustache and charcoal hair hurry past me, as though he was trying to get away from someone. I thought I recognised him from somewhere, but I could not quite put my finger on it. He might have gone to my old school, but otherwise I had no clue as to where I knew him from.
‘I am innocent your honour. I did not take those things. A hand put it in my pocket.’
‘Right, call the first witness.’ Then the judge grumbled something under his breath that was still audible from where I was standing. He said ‘why couldn’t he have pleaded guilty, then I would be allowed to go home as soon as possible.’ This made me realise that I stood no chance. I instantly regretted saying that I was innocent, as it would take longer for the court to finish, and I would be more prone to tears the longer I stayed here, knowing I was going to lose anyway.
There was an old man walking through the door, with a wooden walking stick. This walking stick was probably the very walking stick that knocked me out. To think that tatty old thing could have caused me so much pain and agony!
‘What did you see Mr., erm what is your name again?’
‘Paul A Wright.’
‘And what exactly did you observe that day?’
‘Well, I remember walking through the market to get the groceries and then I saw the accused,’ and at this he pointed at me, ‘Being chased by the victim. The victim hit him with a bottle, and then grabbed my walking stick and began whacking him with it. I heard a lot of shouting, and there was a large amount of alcohol and blood flying everywhere. I asked what had happened, and I was appalled to be told that it was none of my business, as it surely was, as I was the owner of a now bloodied walking stick that I would have to spend my precious time cleaning. This offended me because I obviously do not have much longer on this earth to live, and wasting my time because of this…this criminal had wasted precious minutes of my time. I later found out that the accused had stolen many priceless objects…’
‘Where did you find this out? Did you persuade someone to tell you?’
'No, no one told me. I found out on the television. I may not be getting any younger, but I still watch the news bulletins.’
‘O.K., is there anything else that you would like to tell us?’
‘Yes. We never had this problem when I was a lad. Even London was safe when we were at school. That was the time when real discipline was used to punish people, not locking people up for a few years. There was never a problem with criminals when the whip, the hangman’s rope and the cane were being used.’
‘Yes, that is not a bad suggestion. Do you think that we will be able to do that for an experimental period? It might make the crime rate a whole lot lower if people think there is pain involved. It is not such a bad idea.’ said one of the higher-ranking officers.
‘Excuse me, we will discuss that later… what is most important right now is serving justice. Call the second witness.’ The judge grumbled, clearly already fed up.
In came the gentleman with the black moustache. He wore a black Jacket and khakis, and on his facade was a combination of self-satisfaction and terror. He obviously knew that if I remembered seeing him then he would be done for, but by the look on his face I could tell that he hated me so much. Why? I did not have a clue as to who he was.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I just have to bring something in from my car.’
A few moments later, he came in carrying a laptop and mini projector. He then projected what can only be described as an exceptionally detailed PowerPoint showing what happened. The first slide explained what had happened. Then there was a slide about what he saw. He spoke whilst the slides played. I shall not write what he told everyone else in the court. I have excluded it from this account so that I do not bore you to death. I am still absolutely positive that I recognise him from somewhere. But I wonder where?
‘As you have probably gathered, I saw him pick up the jewels and walk off with them. I told the stall keeper, who then pursued him.’
‘Is that all you saw?’
‘Yes, your honour.’
‘You may go now.’
‘I would just like to say something, your honour.’ I said, butting in, for I knew that this might help my case. ‘The man who has just walked out, and who has just been called as a witness, rushed past me hurriedly seconds after I felt a hand brush my pocket. Maybe he could have placed the jewels in my pocket? I’m not sure, but I definitely did not take them. Of that I am absolutely positive.’
‘You do know that trying to blame someone else for what you have done will add another full year onto your punishment if you go on with your claim, and are found guilty?’
I unquestionably did not fancy jeopardising my chances of getting out of here soon, so I just stayed silent.
‘I thought so. Third witness.’ The judge sighed. He was, without doubt, extremely, extraordinarily fed up. So I decided to be quiet for now. Maybe if I was nice and just let him get on with the court then he would say that I was not guilty.
In came my friend, Paul. I realized instantaneously that, no matter what occurred; he would stick up for me all the way, through thick and thin.
‘I saw what occurred, but unfortunately not very well. On the other hand, I know Jack extraordinarily well. We have been friends since our first year at school, and have always told each other our secrets. He would, under no circumstances, ever do anything like that. Jack would not risk doing this for the world. This is because that at that time there was a big chance that his fiancée was pregnant. He did not know for sure at the time of this incident, but he told me before this incident that she had had a cheap supermarket pregnancy test that turned out to be optimistic.’
Remind me to tell him later that no one knew about the baby, and that we were planning to keep it that way.
‘Is there anything else relative that you would like to say that might help the case?’
‘Erm…no, I cannot think of anything else.’
‘Thank you for wasting our time.’
‘I did not waste your time. Personally, I thought that this was relevant and…’
‘Well, do not think. It might be very treacherous for you to do so.’ The judge sighed at this. I now did not respect him as much as I should, for he was very rude to my friend, who was only trying to help me. But then again, I think that was why he was discourteous. He hated me.
Then the final eyewitness strode into the courtroom. It was the possessor of the alcohol stall. I was hoping he had not seen anything that would make my horrific experiences over the past few months, when I was in all alone in a cold dark cell, to last for a lot longer. However, quicker than it filled me the first time, my hope was destroyed, as he strode on briskly, with an exceptionally sincere expression. This was the entire opposite to his normal, jolly expression. At this point I was beginning to get the impression of a lot of atmospheric tension in the room. I knew from this point forwards that I was, without hesitation, about to lose.
‘Your honour, I am here to say what I saw. Although I did not see him take anything, I saw the supposed victim hit Jack, who is today charged with the offence, with a cane. He did strike who we believe to be the delinquent numerous times on the back and head. Furthermore Jack fell, unconscious.’ He smoothed down his blue striped tie and white shirt apprehensively, and then turned back to face the judge. Today was the first time I had ever seen him wear a shirt, in all our years of friendship, let alone a tie! He was the most casually clothed person I had ever met. ‘Your honour, I am afraid that I saw nothing else.’
‘Thank you’ replied the judge. He was looking very bored, and as if this was all a waste of time. It probably is, after all, I am now beginning to think that it would be a miracle if I were found not accountable for stealing all those objects of great value.
The court went off to decide my future. Since then, my future has been officially out of my hands.
While I waited for the verdict, Maia and I had conversation, because if everything failed, then we had only a minute opportunity of seeing each other before my imprisonment in the foreseeable future.
‘Jack, I promise that no matter what happens, I will wait for you to come out. I do not blame you. You did nothing.’ Maia sniffed, and then she sighed. ‘When did our lives go so wrong?’
‘I do not know.’ I said. I still do not know. We have always, always lived a good life, being kind to others and not being cruel to animals, but everything always goes wrong. I do not know why, it just does, and I bet you a million pounds that they will find out the parents of that baby, if she is still alive, very, very soon. I am writing this down just before I am told of the verdict. Now I hear them yelling at me to come and hear it, so I must go. I will write more in a short while.
Later

My plans have been shattered by a word that tears apart many content and innocent families, the word that ruins many young lives, the word I have feared ever since the incident that occurred four and a half years ago the devastatingly over powerful, guilty. Yet again, I do not know what I am to do. I am going to be transferred, and because of that, I will not see Maia for many years. Oh no.
Why can’t life be nicer to me? What is so wrong about me? I’m just a normal boy. Now I know how my grandfather felt when everything kept going wrong for him.





















Chapter Three

Maia’s Journal

4th December 1999
Today my worst fears came true. They have learnt that we are the parents of the baby. What are we to do? I know. I will go and visit Jack. He always has fantastic ideas. It will give us something to talk about too. I know how he hates to talk about the court incident. I do too. I miss my darling too much. I need him.
Later

I am in so many tears. Unfortunately the Chief Officer has prohibited me from paying a visit to my beloved, as word has got out about our baby. How I do not know, but it is horrible that one of us will get the blame for it.
What am I to do? What am I to do? There is to be a court hearing to which either Jack or I will be charged. Jack wants to volunteer, but I beg him to let me take the blame. He said that he would not like to see such a precious person like me locked up and vulnerable. However, that prison has ripped him into pieces inside. He cannot take the blame for everything in his innocent shoulders.
Jacks Journal

9th January 2000
I am soon to be transferred. It will take place tomorrow and I am to be transferred to a jail somewhere in the north of England. I have yet to be informed which, but in a months time there will be the court hearing about the baby. In the meantime, I will not see Maia for a while. The transfer will take place today in front of many equipped police. There will also be a quantity of individuals there who I do not know. They do not have any relation to me and I am very unlikely to know them, but they just want to see what happens. I suppose it is their sick minded form of entertainment. I cannot believe the police let the public watch something that is incredibly emotionally destroying for those that have to going through it into a show by allowing an audience with no idea as to what even caused it in the first place to view it. Even supposed lawbreakers should have that as their basic human right.
Dela Eden’s Diary
9th January 2000
I am writing this because I desperately need someone to share my feelings with. After all, I have no one else to love and talk to, but you will understand this later.
I found these pages in a gutter near where I slept on Friday night and, using my fingers, I tore holes down the left hand side margin, so I could tie everything together with this blue Polka dot ribbon I found. Personally, I am quite pleased with my handiwork, as I am only four years of age, but to others it is, in all probability, just a piece of rubbish. The ink I use is made from what they would have used about two hundred years ago. Crushed blueberry juice. It makes azure ink. I am not quite sure about how I am able to read and write without school, but I just can.
I discovered another interesting thing in the slums today. It was yesterday’s newspaper. The article said – for of course I can comprehend writing – that there is to be a public transfer today at one o’clock this afternoon, so of course I am going to go. And not just for my own amusement, for I am the daughter of the man being transferred. I know I am. After all, I am, should I say, one of them. That is why my father put me out on the streets. I know it is I who everyone talked about. They think I am dead now. Oh well, no harm done. It means I can merge in with the crowd without citizens becoming apprehensive, and most probably killing me. It keeps me safer than you could possibly imagine.
Do you like my name? I chose it myself. It is the African name for ‘saviour’. I am apparently the saviour of my species, so I considered giving myself a name that suggests that.
I will write more soon… but for the time being, I am going out to that transferring event. I will write in you later, ok. My very own person (well, sort of!) to talk to! You will listen to me, wont you?
Later

The event was too poignant for my liking, and I was so close to crying. I walked through the doors, and for once, fortune was on my side, as I was lucky enough not to be seen, as they would normally ask a four year old on their own where their mummy and daddy was, I could not exactly tell them that my daddy was being transferred at present, as I believe I would have given myself up. They would have realised fairly quickly that I was not a normal child, and that would cause my death easily.
It was so moving. I know I have never met him before, and that he was the one that put me on the streets, but he is my father, nonetheless. I also saw my mother. It was heartbreaking to see the way the police split them up. She was screaming and crying as the only person she had got taken away from her. I almost cried too. My mother wept and wept. I wanted to comfort her, but I knew that she would not know me at all, so she would wonder who I was, and if she knew it would cause her even more grief. I could not make her grieve even more. My father tried to escape to comfort her, but he got beaten a great deal with the wooden baton, which made mother cry even more.
I do not know what to do. I want to talk to someone, but that would give me away. I am only four years of age, but have witnessed many horrible things in comparison with most adults, let alone children. How can I last any longer without love?
I am very curious about who and what I am. I have a very adventurous feeling in my heart, telling me to investigate, but I also have a lost, lonely feeling accompanying that courageous one. I feel so lonely; I do not know what to do. I need some help. I need some love, for once. How come everyone else has at least a little bit of it and I have none? What will it take to get something that is at the top of my wish list?
Jacks Journal
9th January 2000
I am writing this in the back of the police van, and the unusual thing is that I am weeping. I have not wept for many, many years. The only times I ever cried were the times when my father abused me, but that was when I was only ten years old. I am normally very strong in my heart, but now I have broken down. I almost cried when I was being transferred, but I could see the terrible state Maia was in, and could not bear it if she saw me crying. It would have been way too much for her to manage. The policemen in the van with me are calling me a big cry-baby, and laughing at me. They do not even have the decency to mock me behind my back. Personally, I am long past the point of caring now though. And anyway, they have not lost everything they had for something they did not even do.
I also saw someone very interesting at the transfer. It was a child, who gave me the impression that she was around four years old. She reminded me of a portrait I saw a very long time ago. It was a painting of my grandfather, and it had been painted three years before his horrifying and malicious death. Her emerald eyes had the same look of sadness and hurt in them, and her hair was the same brunette as that of my grandfather. Her hair was in tight, pretty ringlets that cascaded down past her shoulders and around her stomach, and her dimples on her cheeks made her look beautiful. I wondered if… no that is a silly thought. She would be dead by now. It is not possible for her to survive all these years by herself. It is a pity that she has definitely died. I bet she would have been just as beautiful.
We have just arrived, so I cannot write more, just contemplate things. I will write more tomorrow, if possible, as the full moon is looming above me like it has been doing for what feels like numerous hours, so it has to be virtually midnight. I am exhausted after the long journey, although I doubt I have a chance of getting to sleep. I am frightened, freezing and abandoned. My single reason as to why I am writing this is because you are the only thing I can speak to.
Thank you for putting up with my weak emotions. I will try to control them more in the future.
12th January 2000
This world is changing. I am absolutely certain of it. The world I grew up knowing and loving is rapidly disappearing. And the shocking thing about my sudden realisation is that no matter what I do I cannot change this. My heart is as cold as ice. I feel so unbearably lonely. I miss Maia and the hustle and bustle of London.
I do not know what to do. My friends pretend not to know me, and if Maia has any sense, then she will break up with me as soon as possible. This way she can get on with her life while I am in here. I do not want her to suffer alongside me.
What am I to do? I need someone to love me who believes me, who trusts me, and is near enough to comfort me any time I need it. But none of my loyal friends are allowed to visit me, and all the other criminals think I am mad.
I need some love – a lot of love – to fix the Russia sized break in my heart. I cry myself to sleep every night, wondering where the love is on this earth. People here hate me. They make fun of me, and punch me and kick me. My stomach is still terribly sore and bruised from the assault earlier today. I told one of the officers but they say they do not care, and that it is my fault for being in here. They said much worse things about my grandfather, but they are too terrible and cruel for me to write down. My body is a mass of painful bruises in every colour. At this moment in time, I have enough colours on my battered skin to be called ‘the rainbow inmate’! You probably think I am not going through anything too terrible because I am making jokes, but the truth is that I am doing this so that I can leave the abyss of depression that I am surrounded by at this moment in time.
I feel terribly lonely, and I do not have a clue about what I can do. This page contains thousands, no, millions of words with smudged ink, due to the tears that stain this page. I now know exactly how my grandfather felt just before he got hanged for being… well, one of them. Oh, I miss everyone. I never thought I would ever say this, but I just want to go home to my rundown, miniature flat.
13th January 2000
Today I am to attend what the officers here call an important meeting. I have yet to find out what it is about, but I will inform you about later. I am intrigued as to what it could possibly be about. Now I need to go to it. I will write more later.
Later

This meeting has brought unbelievable unpleasantness upon me. My life could, beyond doubt, not get any worse, for that would be impossible.
Remember several years ago, during my court hearing, when an elderly man came up with the idea of beating people to see if it will make them behave? Well, they are going to do a trial to see if it would work, and they are going to do it on Phil and I. Phil is my roommate, and he is the only person here that is reasonably pleasant to me.
The meeting was also about the other court hearing, about my daughter. It is to take place on Friday, which is two days away. Our first beating is to take place one hour afterwards. If I am found innocent for the baby, then I get ten lashes. If I am found accountable, then my punishment is to become twenty.
16th January 2000
The trial went dreadfully, like I suspected, as nothing has ever gone right for me. I have lost for what feels like the thousandth time. The world is only against me because of what the baby and my grandfather are. Soon I am going to be beaten, so, despite my better wishes, I must go now.
Later

I am in a pain that is so dreadful that I never thought it was achievable. I will describe what happened below, but it is not pretty. OUCH! I just lent on my very painfully slashed back!
First to be beaten was Phil. He sat on the chair. I heard a swishing sound as the cane was bought towards his back at unbelievable speed, and then smack, onto his back. The sound was highly repulsive, and I saw Phil grimacing in pain, despite the fact that he was very strong. Another nine strokes followed the first, each one landing on his back, producing a repulsive sound.
Then it was I. Phil was told that he has been given authorization to leave. It was my turn next. I was terrified. As Phil left, I saw him grimace with pain every time he put a foot on the ground. He nodded at me with a look of utmost pain, as if to say ‘sorry mate, you’re in for it.’ As many wise people have said, a face can portray a thousand words, and now I agree with them.
I sat on the chair and heard a whooshing sound, followed by a smack. I felt a pain run through my body like never before. Hot tears welled in my eyes, threatening to escape and run down my face. I was desperate to let the pain out, and to cry out, but I would not let him, no, I could not let him see how much he had hurt me.
Several moments later, I was counting my lucky stars that I had already had ten strokes, and that there was only another ten to go. On the eleventh stroke I cried out, as each stroke landed on already beaten and painful, blood-spattered skin, cutting it even more. The other nine thudded painfully into my back. I stood up, and started to walk off, but apparently he had not completed my chastisement, and so he gave me the last five stokes – eventhough I was only supposed to get twenty – and then gave me several more whacks for standing up. I would not be tricked again, so I waited, biting my lip to try and obstruct the intense amount of pain running through my body, but the scheme failed miserably, as I knew it would do. He told me to stand up, and said that I may depart, but that I must come back for a caning every month until I am released. I cannot wait for that day.
When I had got back to my cell, I discovered that Phil had gone to take his weekly wash. I had a bath this morning, so would have to keep my bloodstained back dirty for a while. Then I took the weight off my exhausted feet and sat down, trying to get comfortable on a stone floor. I settled down in a chilly, damp corner and sobbed my eyes dry. I wept and wept for numerous hours. I cried so much that I did not even detect Phil when he appeared, twenty minutes after I had got back. And to think, I have to put up with these beatings once a month until I am out of here.
Now it is about half past three in the morning and I have given up on trying to get some sleep, as every time I fall asleep, I lie on my back and wake up, crying out in pain. It does not help at all that if I do not lie on my back then I have terrible dreams about everything that has happened to me over the past few years, and wake up screaming from that. I am sat on the only chair in my jail cell now, trying to put today’s events into writing for you, using the moonlight and one, solitary candle to illuminate my paper. Phil is having more success with sleeping than I am. I wish my life would turn around and work for me for once. All I am asking for is a little, tiny amount of luck for the first time. Then I will be happy. For the first time in my terrible life, I will be happy.

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Old 01-13-2010, 06:59 AM
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First of all, you really need to split this up! I copied it into my word processor to check word-count, and it's about 9,000--that's a lot for one thread, and you won't get a lot of critiques because most people prefer to take on smaller amounts. See, that's where the FAQ comes in.

Originally Posted by FAQ
Any story of more than 3000 words is pushing the limit. A very sincere and dedicated person might read the entire thing and give a detailed critique, but chances are you won’t get many responses. Under the circumstances, the best thing to do is to break a long chapter up and post it in sections. So you might have two threads titled: A Work of Staggering Genius, Chapter 1, Part 1; and A Work of Staggering Genius, Chapter 1, Part 2. Please note that long chapters, broken up into several threads and posted on the same day, will be counted as one post for the sake of posting limits – but posting three long chapters in one week would be frowned upon...
I think that the best idea for you would be to have the prologue, one Maia entry, and one Jack entry in this thread...and then in the next one, another couple pieces, and so on. That way it won't be so intimidating, and you'll get more thorough reviews.

Now I've got some stuff to say about the parts I've read so far. First of all, I'm not sure it's the best idea to have this in "diary" format, the reason being that people just don't write their diaries like that--including every piece of dialogue and things like "She was wearing classic nurse blue, and she had a polished nametag pinned onto her neatly ironed uniform". They might unconsciously notice things like that, but they wouldn't write them down, unless they were obsessive-compulsive about details. That said, you can still keep it in first person without doing the diary format--if you just give a heading of "Maia" or "Jack" before you start their respective sections, the readers catch on. I've seen this done before in a couple of published books, so don't think it's against the rules!

I'll come back and go a little more in-depth once you've split it into sections so I know what to focus on!
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Old 01-13-2010, 01:58 PM
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Hey Dela! I know I said earlier that I would read it but I never got around to it and at 10pm I really should be going to bed. But I swear I will read it - espically since I''ve been waiting so long - so expect my comments soon.

Oh and I've been thinking about our conversation earlier (the school idea) and I have some great ideas (or at least I find them intresting) so I'll probally write it since I'm feeling motivated for once. I want to know what you think first though, because you will of course be a chacter (but you can't kill Mrs Robinsion only your worst teacher). Anyway I'll discuss it with you tomorrow morning.

I probally won't comment on this story until tomoorow afternoon/evening. See you tomorrow. ^_^
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Old 01-14-2010, 02:45 AM
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Hi there,

I actually read the lot and firstly, I agree with 'Night' was too long and too much diary reference. I like the idea of a diary but it's too long and doesn't ring true.

Perhaps extend the 1903 diary allowing for more detail of the history and perhaps some more action of the lonely man/creature awaiting his death and how he got there.
But again like "Night's" comment, make it like true diary entries; perhaps more like point formation with a few emotional paragraphs.

I think Maia & Jacks interaction should be more natural and less like 'last rights' diary.

As for the child, I'm still confused how there could be a 96% chance of her inheriting the curse if the last of the species was 90 yrs and 3 generations back. I as a reader need more info as to why this child, and why so high a chance and why females are more effected and if so, why the mother (Maia) would wish for a female knowing all the facts.

The idea is interesting so keep working on it, just remember to inform, educate and involve the reader.
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Old 01-14-2010, 06:41 AM
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I'll be ready to go on sometime today, so I just want to know real quick if I should do the critique as if the story's still in diary format, or in first-person present-tense accounts? 'Cause if you wanted to stick with diary, it'd probably change a few things in the spirit of realism and all.
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Old 01-14-2010, 09:34 AM
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Originally Posted by Dela Eden View Post
I've been writing this story for months, and now I have finished it I need someone to tell me what they think. Could someone read the first three chapters and tell me if they wanna read more? Just one thing - ats aimed at teenagers.:smile: Oh, and Essence, yes you can read it!

Prologue


Edward’s Diary


28th December 1903

Tomorrow I will be no more. My life will be at its end. In my heart I know that my life of threat and torture is simply because I was born at the wrong time.
I do not regret dying. It sounds as though she is dead already but before you wrote that she is going to die. Perhaps have 'I will not regret dying' I know Edith will grieve for a while, but soon she will forget. Everyone will forget about the life and times of us. I am the last left, and as soon as that trapdoor opens we will be no more.
This country is, and will remain forever, a place of natural beauty, but now I am about to be led out in front of a crowd of thousands of people cheering, waiting for me to hang limply and freely from a piece of rope in the wind in a place of such horrors for me that you could not imagine. Bodmin Gaol has been a place of suffering for me over the past three weeks, and for this reason I am glad horrible torture and pain that I have suffered for many, many devastating years will end for me now.
And I hope that if anyone ever finds this diary, then they too will learn about our story; the story of suffering and wonder, and pain and magic. The things from fairytales, that is beyond anyone else’s wildest dreams. After all, we were, and always will be, merely diamonds in the rough.



Chapter One


Maia’s Journal


12th April 1995

Today I heard some absolutely fantastic news. I am going to have a baby. It was the best news I have heard in such a long time that I screamed with joy when I found out. I am keeping my fingers crossed that the baby is a girl, after all, as a female myself, I would be closer to her than to a boy, and, after all, girls tend to be better behaved than boys.
Hopefully, my fiancé’s family curse will not have an effect, otherwise I will be devastated. I know that there is a ninety-six percent chance that it will directly affect her, but I really do not want to think about that. I am just hoping that it will not have an effect on her, but there is only a one in twenty-five chance that she will be untouched. I do not wish to think about what would happen to me and my baby if the curse was to plague us with the misery that it will certainly cause to both me and my baby if it was to take hold. You do not need to say 'me and my baby' the second time. Saying 'both of us' should be fine. I hate discussing this topic, despite hate being such a strong word, and I do not want to write anymore about this as I have only just stopped myself from weeping, and it would be silly to start again. Too may 'and's - perhaps think of a different conective.
The second I found out about my unborn spectacle, for I think new life is such a wonderful thing, I went to find Jack. I love him dearly, and he knows it. I have always had a crush on him, but it just took me a few years to be honest to myself. We’ve been dating for five years now, and as the obvious father of the baby, he deserves to know what has happened.
He is the most affectionate, kind, person I have ever met, and as if that was not enough, he spoils me even though he has hardly enough money to feed and clothe himself! He proposed to me two days ago with a beautiful white gold and diamond ring, and said that it just meant that he would not be able to afford a house, and would have to live on the Arbington estate. That was horrible because I felt very guilty. The Arbington estate has a very high crime rate, and it was well known that that was where all the drug dealers and alcoholics lived.
I strolled through the most obvious place to find him. Covent Garden Market, the liveliest market in town.
There is always a rainbow of different colours scattered in every space. I cannot even begin to list the many colours.
There are people and animals everywhere. Harmonies of different languages and cultures weave in and out of the stalls and people. It was the perfect place to find my perfect boyfriend! Children running from stall to stall were laughing and crying, and just enjoying the time spent with their friends. There are plenty of stalls that sell such a wide assortment of different things. Would use a colon instead of a full stop. Trinkets, scarves, chocolate brownies, shoes, wooden hand carved chairs, ocean fishing tackle (although where you are supposed to fish round here, I do not know!), as well as countless other exhilarating and exotic items of phenomenon and wonder.
Soon I ran into Paul, one of Jack’s best and oldest friends, as they have known each other since playschool. He was his only real friend apart from me.
‘Oh, Maia, erm, I have some very appalling information that I have to tell you about.’ Paul told me. ‘I tried to...pray to god I tried. I’m … so sorry. So, so sorry. I hate to bring such dreadful news to you, but you need to know that there was nothing I could do. Jack has been in a horrible fight, and is now unconscious in hospital…’
‘What?’ I cried, interrupting him. ‘No! My darling! Where is he? I must visit immediately.’
‘The hospital near here, I cannot remember what it’s called. St Pantres, no, wait, St Peters, yeah, that’s it. St Peters.’
As soon as I heard, I ran all the way, or at least, as much as I could manage. Being pregnant, it is very difficult to run without getting out of breath. .
That was how I found out in the first place. I found that out the hard way. I was getting so out of breath, so my next-door-neighbour, who is a nurse, and who also has several children herself, informed me that I should do a pregnancy test. That day I realised that my period was one week late. The pregnancy test was positive, so I went to get confirmation from the local doctor’s surgery. This was also positive, and this brings me up to a couple of hours ago.
When I eventually arrived, I went up to the reception.
‘Excuse me Madame; but you will have to wait for an appointment. Doctor Mathews is exceptionally busy at the moment. Would you like to sit down? You look incredibly out of breath.’ The nurse at reception told me. She was wearing classic nurse blue, and she had a polished nametag pinned onto her neatly ironed uniform. Because of this, I was able to work out her name as being Joan Washington.
‘No, I am here because I have been told that my boyfriend is in here. I believe that he has been in a fight, and is now unconscious. I am just so worried about him. The second I knew, I ran all the way here. Please take me to him. I am so worried about him.’ I panted. After running all the way here, I was still exhausted.
‘Okay, I will need you to tell me what he is called, and then Doctor Baker will take you to him.” Joan told me, and looked down at her keyboard, ready to look him up.
So I gave her his details, and she told another nurse to take me to Jack’s doctor. I was then taken into my poor beloved’s room.
I had the shock of my life, as there lay Jack, but it didn’t look at all like him. I was about to turn round and say to the doctor ‘that is definitely not him. You have taken me to the wrong person.’ But I knew that there was no denying it. My handsome boyfriend, with his face was all smashed up, and bloodied bandages all over his body. His chest was all sliced up, and the most devastating thing was that he was not awake. A tear came running down my cheek. I am quite strong, and I never normally cry, but I think you would agree, if you saw him lying there, that I had good reason to. I saw a chair next to his bed, and went to sit down.
‘I do not think it is a good idea for you to stay longer,’ said the Doctor ‘after all, you are in such a state.’
‘No, I will not leave his bedside,’ I stated, ‘after all, I love him dearly, and would only end up staying up all night worrying about him, and having nightmares about what he must have been through.’
‘O.K., now I can see how worried you are. If only my wife would worry about me as much as you worry about him. He must be well loved.’
‘He has to be,’ I said, ‘for neither I nor he has anyone else,’ I said, for after all, we do not, at least, until the baby arrives. That is another eight or so months away. I am writing this waiting for my beloved to wake, but have now run out of things to say.

Jacks Journal.


12th April 1995
I think that having this extract being the same day as Maia's is perhaps too close: from her diary the reader gets the impression that Jack has been pretty badly hurt and so even if he were to wake later that day, I'm pretty certain that he wouldn't be lifting up a pen and writing in his diary. Just a thought.


As soon as my eyelids fluttered open, I saw the most attractive thing. My
girlfriend was looking down at me, my hand in hers. Then it hit me. I am in hospital. I remembered the whole thing as if it was only a few moments ago.
There I was, minding my own business in the market, getting the shopping, when all of a sudden I heard plenty of people shouting thief, and a stall owner, whom I am great friends with, chasing after me and telling me to return it. To show him that I was innocent, and had nothing to do with it, I put my hands in my pocket, and to my astonishment, I pulled out jewellery! There were expensive watches, pearl necklaces, gold rings… and numerous other high-priced things.
When I went to give them back, he picked up a bottle of glass off of an alcohol stall, and I heard a swishing sound, followed by a crash as the glass bottle hit my chest, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Liquor and my scarlet blood were flying everywhere. I instantly brought my hands to my eyes and face, to protect them from any further attack. Soon there was another swishing sound, and something hard slammed into my back. I yelled out and brought my hands to my back. It must have been an elderly gentleman’s walking stick, as I heard someone saying ‘give it back’ in a voice that must have come from an old mouth. The sound of cane on flesh and cloth sounded repulsive. It felt repulsive too, like when my father used to beat me. Then it came into contact with my skull a number of times. The last thing I remember is swirling into complete darkness.
Then of course, I woke up. It had been a terrifying encounter with pain and near death experiences all in one. And it was an experience I was in no hurry to repeat.
Suddenly, I felt a tear drop onto my bruised and painful chest, followed by another, and another, and another. I tried to sit up, but failed, wincing at the pain running through my already powerfully beaten body. I let out a groan.
‘You are alive. I cannot believe it. Praise the lord. I was starting to think the worst.’ My sweet darling said.
‘I am so glad I regained consciousness looking at the beautiful thing I have just seen.’ I said to her, letting a phoney, but seemingly real smile replace my frown to stop her from worrying about me.
‘You are just the same as ever, are you not?’ she said. ‘Just as flattering as ever… What happened?’ She asked, so I told her, and tried to ignore the shock and tears that ran down her cheek whilst I told her. She hugged me, but seeing me wince when I tried to hug her back made her cry even more.
I had never, ever seen her cry before. Not when her mother died, not when her father passed away, not even when a lorry hit her beloved pet dog, Douglas.
‘I found out that you were in hospital from your friend, Paul.’ She told me. ‘I had come looking for you with tremendous news, but I was horrified when I was told you were... well... hurt.’ Maia told me. Eagerly, I asked her what it was.
‘You will be a father.’
All of a sudden, I was speechless. It was great news, but, alas, it changed when there was a knock on the room’s door. And this could all be illustrated with merely one knock, and my reply.
'Come in.’ I murmured, but I wish I had kept quiet. If I had kept silent, everything would still be ok.
It was the police, and I knew what it was going to be about.
‘We are glad to see that you are awake.’ one of them said. ‘If you were not, we would not be able to do this.’ He continued. ‘Jack Bailey, I am placing you under arrest for stealing countless valuable possessions, including a Timex watch and a pearl necklace. Everything you say is being recorded, and may be used as evidence against you in court.’
Oh my goodness, what have I done. That’s the whole point, nothing, but everyone else seems to think that I did. Life could not get much worse for us.
‘You cannot take him.’ Maia exclaimed, for when people she loves need her she is always loyally there for them. ‘He is not well, as you can see from all the bandages covering his frail body. He has been arrested for something he did not even do. Where is the justice in that?’
‘We can, as we have permission from his doctor, who does not want a delinquent in his hospital, and there is no justice for criminals that do evil.’
‘But…’ She tried.
‘There will be no buts from you unless you would also like to be arrested.’
‘It is not worth it my darling. Do not be concerned, as I will be safe and sound the next time you see me. I promise. And, if you ever get sad, think of me, and remember that I would not want you to cry over a nothing like me. I love you so much, my darling.’ And so, they took me away.
I am sat in my cell now, writing this. It is the only thing stopping me from completely breaking down. My punishment is going to be for thirteen complete years if I am found guilty, and that’s if I behave. Sorry, but thirteen is far too long to be realistic even when fiction. Who does not believe in thirteen being unlucky, do you believe now?
I do not even want to think of my unborn child. I have let them down. I am not even going to try to appeal, I am short on money as it is, so will not be able to afford a lawyer, and if I plead not guilty, and am found out to be guilty then it will add another year to my sentence, and I am not willing to risk that. Not for the world, after all, the sooner I am released, the sooner I can help Maia look after our child.
Maia’s Journal

Later

I have been weeping into my pillow for hours. It is not possible for me to stop? I have as good as lost the most important thing in my life. What am I to do? What have I done to deserve this? I love Jack too much, and now I miss him too much. It is more than my heart can bear. How will I cope for thirteen years without him? I love him.

October 2nd 1995

Today I am to find out whether the curse has affected my unborn baby or not. I will not ask to know the gender just yet though. I want that to be a surprise. I am just getting ready to go out. I am still crying over Jack, but he says that I must move on. It is breaking my heart to do this, but it is what he wants. I have promised to tell him the results too. I hope my beautiful baby will be ok.

Later

I am beside myself. The curse has had an effect on the baby, and what makes things worse for me is that it is against my beliefs to have abortion because it is killing a living thing that’s life depends on me making the right decision. What am I to do? I have just got back home from visiting Jack. I hate to bring bad news to him, especially with what he has gone through the past months, but he has to know. I cannot leave him in the dark about this.
My baby is not going to be normal, but a… an Asiophorius. The name given to the only other type of human that exists. They were despised by this country because they were different. I bet you did not know about there being two types of human. People were too ashamed to let anyone of the future know what had happened.
Jack’s grandfather was the last one, and he placed the curse. Apparently, just before they hung him, he placed the annoying curse upon my beautiful, yet mysterious unborn infant. Our baby would be the survivor, the sole survivor. He or she would be the one that would revive the entire population.
Last time they were on earth, they were killed in very inhumane ways, which is why I do not want to bring it into such a cruel, heartless world. The poor people were treated like pests.
Mind, folks of long ago thought that they actually were pests, hence the nickname, Street Rat.
This used to be the only country with them, as it is believed that they are more evolved humans. This was their territory until we acquired it from them, in very merciless ways. We slaughtered them, even though it was us who had done wrong. Not them. It was us, and our evil doings.
Jacks journal


October 2nd 1995

Today I gathered some appalling information. My family curse has had an effect on our baby. Maia came to visit me about an hour ago, and she told me.
My fingers are sensation-less as it is dreadfully cold in here, and it shall get colder as the winter begins to commence. I miss Maia exceedingly, and I am continuously exhausted. At the end of the year I am to start working picking up litter and things like that with the other inmates, but until then, I am bored, bored, bored. I can say I’m actually looking forward to it because it would be a chance to see the sky and get my first taste of fresh air in many long and boring weeks.
There is nothing to do apart from tallying the seconds, anticipating the time until I am out of here and therefore able to help our beautiful unborn child.
I decided to look just at this fitrs chapter since with the other two chapters it would have been so long. It's certainly an intresting idea but the language I hate. Not because it is bad as actually you have done a very good job, but because to me all the 'darling' and such is just too soppy. On the otherhand, given that's it's you who wrote this, and the genreal idea is intresting, I will continue to read it.
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Old 05-21-2013, 12:03 PM
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tl;dr
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Old 05-21-2013, 11:47 PM
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Two points:

1) Definitely split this up so that its reader- friendly. Pretend it's in a book, and try to put the splits where pages end.

2) I agree that a diary format may be difficult for you (which is not to say at all that you shouldn't do it) simply because it seems like you have a difficult time making your voice right true through your characters. You tend to use high language, which says that you're trying to emulate your characters instead of just letting them speak. This story, through Jack and Maia's perspectives, takes place in 1995. We did not talk like that in '95.

Something that might help is to read books like Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt. If you just look at the pages, you cant tell the difference between his thoughts, narration, and dialogue, because he doesn't use quotation marks, but reading that will help you figure out how to separate those three components as well.

Remember, the bad piece is not the one you critique. The one you critique is the one with potential.
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Old 05-22-2013, 12:32 AM
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It's also best to critique current pieces rather than ones from 2010
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Old 05-22-2013, 01:30 AM
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Originally Posted by Rincewind View Post
It's also best to critique current pieces rather than ones from 2010
Which is funny, because it was at the top of the fiction section. Huh.
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Old 05-23-2013, 06:36 PM
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Originally Posted by francienolan View Post
Which is funny, because it was at the top of the fiction section. Huh.
Excellent point, Francie.

What does 'tl;dr' mean, Keliz, and why did you bump a three-year old post?
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