365 Lives (in need of feedback)

read my story?

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[black cocaine v2]

Before I start typing my story, I beg that nobody takes my idea, because I'm working very hard on this. There are mistakes in my grammar I know so you don't need to warn me or anything. Also please give me some feedback I'd love to hear some opinions. biggrin I plan to copy and paste my chapters from Microsoft Word, and I sadly don't want to italicize or bold everything all over again. I'll try to find a website that works for copy and paste, but for now just be creative. This little story is for a young adult audience so, I apologize if you don't like cursing and if you're offended in anyway. Otherwise, enjoy. heart

[black cocaine v2]

Synopsis
Alix is a 17 teen year old girl who has the psychic ability called Retrocognition. Meaning Alix has the ability to experience the past of other spirits. Her parents decide to place Alix in a secret/private program called PGC,(Paranormal Gifted Children) believing she'll make friends there who are similar to her. Alix meets many interesting kids at the program and actually feels normal for once. However, PGC's goal is not to help children interact with other children. Their goal is something much more sinister.
(this needs work I know)

Ch.1 The Scowling Eyes
Ch.2 The Mind-Reading Bad Boy
currently writing: Ch.3 The Odd One Out

[black cocaine v2]

Ch. 1 The Scowling Eyes

The world is filled with many occupations: doctors, lawyers, police officers, authors, and so much more. My father, Christopher James is an editor at Broker Publishing, and takes his job quite seriously. I’ve always looked up to my father and his successes. However, my mom’s occupation completely sends me into confusion whenever it’s brought up. My mom, Adele, is an English major, but decided to run a cupcake shop when she arrived here with my father in the United States. My dad tried to convince her to work at Broker’s, but her love for cupcakes overpowered her. Even though I think my mom made a reckless decision, she works pretty hard for her shop. I know this, because she runs around the shop like the roadrunner in Looney Tunes.

She’s always serving customers with a smile, but yelling at the decorators and bakers in the back. Sometimes I wonder how she does it, especially after her shop became famous. A voice I choose to ignore screams, “Alix!” Maybe my mom knows what she’s doing. The voice makes another appearance, “Alix!” Who am I to judge her? She’s my mom after all. “Dammit Alix wake up before I fire you!” I turn to see my mom with smoke coming out of her ears. I instantly know I’m in trouble by the way she’s squinting her eyes. My dad, sister, and I call them the ‘Scowling Eyes.’ She throws her hands up in the air, “What are you doing? This is no place to daydream Alix!” I can’t maintain my giggle due to my mom’s heavy French accent. She punches me in the arm, and begins to curse in French. I don’t know much, but I know enough to know when she’s swearing. “Go to the cash register and help for once.” She storms off in the back leaving me with a line of frustrated customers.

By five o’ clock the hoard of customers leave and business slows down. I’m slouched on the counter next to the cash register eating one of my mom’s German chocolate cupcakes. All of the employees have left the bakery except for my mother and I. My mom walks into the front of the store and locks the kitchen door behind her. “You ready to go love?” Love? What happened to the horned demon that was my mother just two hours ago? I decide not to react, “No, I don’t want to go to PGC tomorrow.” My mom warmly embraces me and tells me everything is going to be okay and that she’ll miss me.

The ride home is silent, while the radio fills the car with a woman’s soft voice singing about the sadness in summertime. My mom changes the station and “Milkshake” is playing. My mom is automatically dancing and singing her a** off in order to make me smile. This succeeds. I have to admit even though my mom is a skinny, French, girl she knows how to dance. As we pull up, my dad is waiting at the doorstep holding my four year old brother Tommy. My dad embraces both of us with love and announces that we’re having Chinese takeout for dinner. The Scowling Eyes glare at my father, but he laughs his carefree laugh. The dining room table is set up perfectly except for the Chinese takeout boxes placed all over the table.

The conversation at dinner is cheerful and ecstatic until a phone call silences us. My dad slowly stands, “Excuse me for a second.” I don’t listen to my sister, Christina talking about her dumb science project anymore, because my focus has leaned forward to my Dad’s phone call. “Hello? Oh… Of course she’ll be ready by then… A-Alright. Goodbye.” He sounds a bit emotional, and it shows on his face when he returns. I glare at my dad, “Who was that?” My dad produces a fake cough that does not pass, “That was PGC. They’re picking you up tomorrow morning at nine.” I drop my silverware, “That’s too early. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to any of my friends! Mom!” I look to mom for support but she of course just frowns at me. A symbol that shows she can’t help me out. Christina stabs her teriyaki chicken, “Good, then maybe this family can finally be normal.” What is wrong with her? “Normal? I’m pretty sure not, because first of all look at your glasses. They’re larger than your whole face.” My mom kicks me from under the table, “We use warm and caring words in this house!”
“She just called me a freak. That doesn’t matter mom?” My mom slowly inhales and exhales trying to control her temper, “Christina apologize to you sister.” Christina mumbles her apology, but I know I’m going to get more lip from her later on. Christina believes my gift is a nuisance, and I just use it to attract attention from others. She has no idea how wrong she is. I see my gift more as a curse, due to me seeing how people have died over the years. It gets pretty tiring to be honest. I feel as if the spirits are just using me as a game now to see who can freak me out the most. I finish my dinner quietly, and my mother tells me to pack up for PGC when I leave to my room.

My room is fairly small, but contains all of my needs: books, CDs, a desk, a closet, and finally my bed. I’m not much of a teen who has to be caught up in trends. I’m what they called a ‘nerd’ only, because I like to read and draw. Not much of an outcast, I have a couple of friends in the book club and anime club at school, but that’s pretty much it. By the time it’s 8 o’ clock I have packed up my clothes, laptop, a couple of books, and accessories. I lie on my bed and daydream looking at the ceiling for a bit. PGC. Supposedly this program is going to make my life easier, and I get the opportunity to make friends and control my gift. How my parents found this program, I don’t know. To me it seems kind of odd, but I don’t question it. I know they’re trying their best so I can have a good life.

I close my eyes for a moment, and instantly the ringing in my ears begins. Please, not now. I try to open my eyes, but my body refuses to obey, and everything goes white.


BASEEMA 1997–2013

When I resurface, I am surrounded by a crowd of people shouting in a language I don’t understand. Are you kidding me? Okay, first things first, take in your surroundings. Women around me are covered completely in some type of black dress, and the men are a bit hairy and have slightly dark skin. Instantly it hits me that I’m located somewhere in the Middle East. The language slowly begins to form into English, so I can understand every single word. They are shouting about some protest, but I don’t quite understand. Suddenly, a tan truck pulls up and more than a dozen of men with guns begin to shoot the crowd. A girl next to me pulls my arm, “Baseema! We need to GO!” Baseema? Without question I run after her as she runs into an alleyway. The sound of screaming increases and firearms blasts throughout the entire city. “Baseema hurry up!” I have no idea who the girl is in front of me, but she’s obviously a runner. I constantly trip over the dress so I decide to lift it to my knees, and in time I catch up with her. “Where are we going?” The girl continues to run, “To your house. We need to hide and seem innocent if they decide to look through your house.”

By the time we reach my house we’re both panting and gasping for breath. “Who were those guys?” The girl looks at me blankly. I can’t see her facial expression due to the dress, but I know she thinks I’m either stupid or crazy. I would know I’ve been looked at that way multiple of times. “That was the army, are you feeling okay?” Great, I’m already out of character. But I don’t know this spirit yet? “No, I mean yes, I’m fine. I just need water, and to lie down. The girl’s eyes crinkle likes she’s smiling, “Well you’re in luck, because we’re home.” Inside the house the furniture is in beautiful colors such as gold, chocolate brown, and red. Wow, is this spirit rich? Suddenly, I think it’s a shoe, is thrown at me with such force I fall to the ground. A woman with a similar dress as mine is yelling in Arabic at me. “Where were you? How long have you been out? Go wash and pray, then eat dinner NOW!” Okay lady, relax. I get up and search for my bedroom. A golden arrow slowly appears that points to my room. I close the door behind me, and take off my dress. Golden writing appears on the wall, it reads, “Had a nice run? I thought you needed it.” I stomp my foot on the ground, “Who do you think you are!?” The writing reappears, “Baseema of course. Shut up, because you need to wash and pray.” Its official I hate this spirit. “I don’t care if you do hate me. Hurry up and get into the bathtub!”

I decided to not argue with Baseema, and just into the tub. The water feels warm, and really nice. “Can I just sit here for the rest of the time?” Baseema writes, “Sure, if you want my mother to come up here and hit you with a shoe again.” I slouch into the tub and groan, but after washing everywhere I get up and look into the mirror while getting dressed. Oh my God. Baseema has long black hair, hazel cat-like eyes, and a curvy body. Baseema writes over the mirror so I’m unable to see my reflection, “This is not the time to admire my body you need to pray!”

Back in the bedroom, I cover myself in another dress and kneel by the bed. I haven’t prayed to God alone since I first began experiencing my gift. I hold my hands and close my eyes, “Dear God, I know it’s been awhile, but I want to thank you for all the lessons you have taught me through the spirits. I’ve learned to cherish, love, and accept things in my life. Jesus name we pray, Amen.” I look up at the wall to see a scowling face drawn on the wall. The Scowling Eyes. “What? I prayed.” Baseema erases the face, “That was Christian praying, but it will do.” I roll my eyes and walk towards the dining room where my mother, brother, and…friend are waiting for me. Another prayer is said before we eat. The food looks… disturbing and just a complete mess. On my plate there’s some type of meat on bread, a lemon dipped in sauce, and bread resembling a donut. On my napkin Baseema makes an appearance again, “The food is good, try it.” I hesitate, but I see my mother scowling at me. I decide to try the meat on the bread first. It tastes good at first, but the aftertaste… Dear God. Baseema writes, “EAT ALL OF IT BEFORE YOU GET HIT!” I manage somehow to digest all of the food, but I feel terribly sick. My mother shouts at me from across the table, “Baseema! I thought you liked this dinner, that’s why I made it!” I try to smile to show I appreciate it, but then I remember my whole body except for my eyes is covered. “I do like it, what makes you think I don’t?” She narrows her eyes at me, but decides not to say anything.

After dinner I instantly try to fall asleep hoping to return to my own body. “Why did you bring me here?” The golden writing appears, “Because, I wanted to show you that sometimes it’s good to be rebellious. Even if the consequences are fatal.” I give her a quiet laugh, “I hope you know that that makes no sense to me.” She draws a face on a wall that has a frown on it. “Can’t you just take me back home? I have to go to that program tomorrow.” There is a moment of silence then the writing appears again, “I’ll take you home tomorrow.” I try to drift off to sleep, but the sounds of gunshots are too loud. I cover me ears then slowly drift off.

The rays of the sun slowly wake me up. I don’t want to take the covers off of my head, because I know I won’t be in my bed, I’ll be in Baseema’s. I peak through the sheets and see a long paragraph has been written on the wall, “Wake up sunshine. Today, you are going down to the hospital with Fatima-the friend downstairs-to volunteer at a hospital. We usually go everyday around this time, so hurry up get dressed, pray, and go to the hospital with Fatima. They’re going to be sick, injured, and dying children there so be prepared.” Death. It used to be a word I was completely terrified of, but since I’ve experienced it so much it’s just a common word.

After, I have done Baseema’s daily routine I meet Fatima by the door. “Are you ready, Baseema?” I nod my head, and we walk out into the streets of Lebanon. As we’re walking I take in the city’s destruction. What once were beautiful buildings were now covered in smoke and debris. “What happened here?” Fatima gives her a worried glance, “Um, the war?” I have to stay in character not to confuse her… “Oh right the war! Sorry, the shoe hit me pretty hard last night. What caused the war anyway?” Fatima scoffs, “We started the war. The Arab Spring.” I look at her, “Why would we start a war? Aren’t we uh, the good people?” Fatima slowly stops in front of me, “We are, but we just want some freedom.” We walk in silent for a moment as I try to adjust to my ‘new’ lifestyle. Syria, I’ve heard that they were going through a war, but I had no idea it was this bad.

We arrive at the hospital, but I’m shocked at the amount of patients in the hallways. Down each hallway there are different age groups of the sick and injured. A man directs Fatima and I towards the children section. Children from toddlers to teenagers are lying in the hallway, foaming at the mouth, and are injured. I decide to tend to a boy who is shivering, coughing, and vomiting. I cradle him in a large blanket and hold him. I figure out that his name is Omar and he is in the third grade. He was gassed and separated from his parents during the earlier protest. Omar is slowly turning blue due to his lack of oxygen, but there’s nothing I or anyone can do. Omar’s big blue eyes look up to her, “Can you sing something? My mom sang to me whenever I was sick.” I cradle his head and nod, “I’m not the best singer, but for you I’ll try.” I begin to sing Hush Little Baby, but Omar points out that it’s an American lullaby. Omar slowly begins to sing his an Arabic lullaby, but slowly stops as he dies. I begin to mourn for Omar, but a couple of volunteers wrap his body in a white sheet and return his body into her arms. I ask them if he will ever get buried, but I get no response. One of the doctors tells me to place Omar’s body in the morgue. I hesitate, but I’m forced to walk to the morgue.

The stench in the morgue is so overbearing and foul that I nearly drop Omar’s body. I place his body on an empty table and wish that he rests in peace. When I return to the hallway the number of children has nearly multiplied. Baseema’s handwriting appears on a nearby wall, “Most will die, but they are happy it’s over.” What child would want their life to be over? A child should be playing in the sun and having the best time of their lives. Not sitting here waiting to die around other children. I decide to tend a girl who is fortunate to only have a cut above her eyebrow. She is clutching on to some sort of doll, and is crying out for her mom. I crouch next to her, “Hi, I’m Baseema. I’m here to help you okay?” I try to clean her cut with some alcohol but she screams at me to stop. I decide just to put a bandage on the wound and leave her to be.

Unexpectedly, screams and gun fire erupt from the front of the hospital. Doctors, children, and volunteers run into different rooms to hide. I try to look for Fatima throughout the crowd, but I can’t find her. I decide to hide in the morgue since no one else tried to. Idiot, it’s because of the smell. I choose an empty table and hide under a white sheet. I pretend to be dead, and not panic. A door is opened, followed by multiple of male voices. I automatically stop breathing and listen to the conversation. A strong male voice orders for them to check all of the bodies. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in my stomach with a steak knife. Baseema writes on the sheet to relax. How the hell am I supposed to relax Baseema!? Her sheet is pulled back, but she makes no sudden movements. After a moment he places the sheet back over her head, and announces that she is dead. I physically relax after I hear the morgue’s door slam shut and the voices disappear. I give out a huge sigh of relief and sit up from the sheet. A dozen of men surround me holding me at gunpoint. s**t.

Multiple of volunteers from the Arab Spring and I are placed in the opening of some type of warzone. Fatima and the girl I tended earlier are sitting next to me weeping furiously. I try to calm both of them down, but I know that this is probably the end of their lives and Baseema’s. Baseema? Where are you? Nearby Baseema writes, “I guess this is where we say goodbye.” I begin to panic. What was the lesson here? A gas bomb goes off somewhere, and men in military outfits become visible. They shout at us asking if we’re part of the Arab Spring. No one replies, due to the loyalty of the rebellion. The men begin to shoot, and bodies begin to fall. The girl who I tended lies on the ground bleeding from the head, clings to her doll. I begin to cry along with Fatima. Baseema writes, “The lesson is that life is precious. Not many Americans know what’s happening in Syria, and are unaware of how much freedom they have. Please Alix; make life count, for me.” Fatima is shot in the head, and a gun is placed on the side of my head. Before I can close my eyes Baseema writes, “I’ll always be with you. Goodbye Alix and thank you. Also, give your mom an easy time.” A picture of the Scowling Eyes appears, and I shut my eyes tightly and wait for it to be over. Bye, Baseema. Thank you for showing me your life, and I hope you’re resting peacefully. The trigger is pulled and all I see is black. Darkness, Peace.



I wake up to my mom shaking me awake, “Alix, wake up honey.” I wipe the tears off of my eyes, “I’m awake.” My mom is sitting on my bed giving me a worried look, “The PGC worker is downstairs waiting for you. Did a spirit visit you?” I nod my head, and get up from the bed, “I’d rather not talk about it.” My mom kisses me on my forehead, “We’ll be waiting downstairs.” I place the straps of my bags over my shoulder and clutch my journal in my chest. I sigh and look behind at my empty bedroom. “Well I guess this is it.” I walk down the stairs and see a young, tan, man waiting by the door with my family. The man holds out his hand for a handshake, “My names Joshua King, but you can call me Josh. Need help with your bags?” Josh’s face is scarred with a permanent scowl that’s not welcoming. “I can handle them.” Josh lowers his hand, and his scowl deepens. My mom steps in, “I apologize. She had a rough night.” My mom gives me the Scowling Eyes, and instantly my heart sinks. Baseema. I place a fake smile on my face, “My name is Alix. Here are my bags.” I shove them at him and turn to say goodbye to my family. My sister wishes me luck, and my parents comfort me. My dad is the one to break off the hug, “If you ever want to leave the program just give us a call and we’ll pick you up immediately.” I hug both of them one more time, and leave out the door. Josh is leaning against a van that has PGC painted on the side of it. Josh is smoking a cigarette and glaring at me. “What?” Josh laughs, “Nothing kid. You ready?” I nod and get into the passenger seat next to Josh. My family is standing out front waving at me. I wave back trying my best to keep my emotions together. Josh turns on the van, and speeds off. I look at my family through the window until they disappear. I turn on the radio, but Josh immediately turns it off. I glare at him, “What’s your problem?” Josh’s smug smirk reappears, “Alix is it? Alix I don’t have a problem, but you’re becoming one.” I laugh, “So, are all PGC’s employees smoking Hispanics who hate problem-starting kids?” Josh slams on the brakes, “If you want to get help from this program I suggest you change your ******** attitude.” I sit back shocked entirely, “Okay.” Josh continues to drive, and the rest of the drive is completely silent. After an hour we arrive at a tall building that is isolated from the rest of the city. Josh opens my door for me, but I see that his smirk has returned, “Welcome to PGC, brat.”

[black cocaine v2]

heart heart heart heart

[sugasu]

I will give a critique once I've finished reading it and stuff vuv

[black cocaine v2]

Benii B

thank you heart

[black cocaine v2]

Ch.2 The Mind-Reading Bad Boy

xxxThe PGC building looks similar to a bank on the lobby floor. However, everyone is in either a white lab coat or white security uniform. Josh is carrying all of my belongings, “Come on brat.” I’m encouraged to throw my journal at his head. We walk into the elevator and Josh presses the button for the fourth floor. We stand there quietly until the doors slide open. In the hallway there are large windows on each side of the walls showing the bedrooms of other children. I get a couple of waves, but most of my greetings are scowls and frowns. Josh laughs, “Listen, not everyone is exactly excited being here.” I roll my eyes at him, “Trust me, I know that.”

xxxWe walk into an unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hallway. Inside the room there’s: a bed, bookshelf, desk, computer, dresser, and a bathroom. Everything is white as well. Josh throws my bags on the bed, “I know the room doesn’t seem like much, but you can order pretty much everything on PGC’s website.” He points at the computer placed on the desk. Josh opens my door, “Your orientation is at twelve, it’s on the 2nd floor. Just follow all of the other kids. Don’t be late.” Before I order anything I decide to unpack all of my bags. By the time she finishes its eleven fifty. Okay I have a little time to myself. I walk over to the computer, but a voice from a speaker screams at me to start walking to orientation.

xxxWhen I enter the hallway, a couple of kids are standing line waiting for the elevator. While waiting I notice that one of the girls in line looks exactly like Baseema. She catches me staring, but gives me a soft smile. I try my hardest to look away, but instead I find myself smiling back at her. What? When I arrive in the elevator all of the numbers have been pressed so I have to wait awhile before I’m finally let out. On the second floor there’s a stage, podium, and two rows of five. All of the chairs are filled except for one in the front in between a girl with wild blonde hair and Baseema’s twin. I sit between them and stare directly at the stage. However Baseema’s twin smiles at me, “It’s okay to smile once in a while. It’s good for you.” I glance at her for once second, but my mood immediately shifts into complete happiness. She holds out her hand, “I’m Nyasia.” I shake her hand, “My name is Alix.” She tilts her head to the side, “Alex?” I roll my eyes, “No, Alix like all then ex. It’s a French name.” She nods her head as if understanding, but I know she doesn’t, “Well Alix, judging from your emotions it seems like you’re under a lot of stress. Is it your first day here?” Whoa wait, what? Judging my emotions? I nod, “Um yeah, I just got here two hours ago.” Her smile widens and mine follows, “Well, he online store has everything! Clothes, books, medicine, and even IPads! It’s like Amazon Heaven!”

xxx Suddenly, a man in a lab coat and Josh walk onto the stage. Josh gives me a sneer as we make eye contact. The man in the lab coat taps a microphone, “Hello children, my name is Dr. Hathaway. I’m the founder of Paranormal Gifted Children, also known as PGC. Next to me here is Josh.” Nyasia dramatically fans herself, “Oh my Allah, he is so cute.” I look at her with disgust, but even I know Josh is an attractive guy. Cute or not he’s a douche. Dr. Hathaway continues, “Today, we’re here to discuss the purpose of PGC and the rules.” Groans escape from every child’s mouth. Dr. Hathaway claps his hands together and smiles widely, “Let’s get started.”

xxxInstead of listening, I wander off. Dr. Hathaway is a strange-looking man. He looks around forty, a bit short, and his dark hair is slowly balding, A voice interrupts my thoughts, “Hey, I suggest you pay attention. They’re kind of strict on the rules here.” I look from side to side to see whose talking to me, but everyone’s eyes are on Dr. Hathaway. Who? “I’m talking to you through thought, look behind you.” I turn and see an older boy smirking at me. Oh, how do you know? Aren’t you new here to? The boy’s smile grows wider, “I’ve been here for five months, but I’m here, because I need to relearn the rules.” I return the smile. Guessing you’re a bad kid? He shrugs, “I guess so.” I turn my attention back to the stage only to see Josh narrowing his eyes at me. I roll my eyes at him. Dr. Hathaway is talking about some schedule and how to order items from PGC’s online catalog. Even though I try my hardest to concentrate on the presentation, I keep on thinking about the guy sitting behind me. He has jet black hair, grey eyes, and a nice body. In other words, he’s cute. “Thank you, so are you.” I blush furiously, not daring to turn around. You weren’t supposed to hear that! I hear a soft chuckle behind me, “Sorry baby. The name’s Blake.” I let out a huge sigh. I’m Alix. Do me a favor Blake, and stay out of my head so I can hear the rules. There’s a kick behind my chair, “Sure thing.” Strangely, my head feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of it. I let out a sigh of relief and return to the stage. Josh has taken the podium and stares directly down at me, “My name is Josh, just in case you weren’t paying attention. I used to be in the PGC program, but now since I turned twenty, I’m the head security here.” I scoff, but try to cover it with a cough. Josh’s eyes don’t leave mine when he’s talking, “Yes, I might not seem much as a bodybuilder, but I use my gift to control you brats.” Oh, so we’re all brats, not just me. The girl with tangled hair next to me shouts out, “What’s your gift?” Josh’s trademark smirk returns, and he raises a fist. I think he’s going to scold her like an old man, but what happens next completely shocks me. Josh’s whole fist ignites in a flame, and he throws a fireball right in front of my feet. I gape at the hole in the ground then back at Josh’s smirking face. Josh’s flame extinguishes, “My gift is Pyrokinesis. I can start, stop, and sense when a fire is going to start.” There are a bunch of oohs and ahs, but I honestly don’t care. Josh is still Josh. He may be able to control fires, but he’s still an a**. Josh continues as if nothing has happened, “Anyway, I’m here to talk about the three most important rules. First of all, running is permitted from this building at all time. Secondly, if you’re out of your dorm without permission after 9 PM you will be restricted and punished. Finally, don’t give the staff here a hard time, especially me.” Josh looks directly at me again. Dude, give me break. Dr. Hathaway returns to the podium, “Well that’s it. Please, return to your rooms and wait for your Supervisor to give you your schedule.”

xxxNyasia and I walk towards the elevator together and discuss about each other’s family. Nyasia is Syrian and follows the Muslim religion. She explains to me that she wears a different colored hijab each day depending on her mood. She’s wearing a pink one today so she’s feeling caring. As the elevator doors are about to close an arm slips through them stopping the doors. When the doors finally reopen Blake’s face appears. I try to hide behind Nyasia, but Blake stands right next to me. He smiles down at me, “Hey.” I try to look stern, “What you’re not going to speak to me through my head anymore?” Nyasia quizzically looks at us, “You two know each other?” Blake doesn’t break eye contact with me, “Somewhat.” The elevator reaches floor three and I’m begging for him to get off, but he doesn’t. We reach the fourth floor and Blake is the first to get out. He laughs when he sees we’re getting off as well, “Alix, you live on this floor?” I nod, but refuse to make any more eye contact. He crosses his arms, “Well maybe one day you can come visit me.” He winks and I storm off. Nyasia catches up with me, “He’s teasing, because he thinks you’re cute.” I look at her, “How would you know?” She winks at me, “Trust me I just do. Bye, Alix.”

xxxI open my door to see an African-American man placing a paper on my desk. He turns around, “Hey, my name is Darius I’m your Supervisor.” We shake hands, “I’m Alix. Sorry for asking, but what does my Supervisor do?” Darius laughs, “Were you listening at your orientation?” I give a slight shrug, “Kind of, but you know.” Darius smiles at me, “I get it boring stuff, but see that little black globe at the top of the ceiling? Well, that’s a camera, and through that speaker next to it I can scold you for anything you do.” I look up at the camera and speaker, “So basically you’re my new parent for as long as I’m here.” Darius nods, “Pretty much Al. Do you mind if I call you that?” I shake my head, “No, you seem cool. So, I’ll let you.” Darius laughs, “So do you, Josh said you might be some trouble, but you really don’t seem like you are. Anyway, here is your schedule for today.” I pick up the sheet of paper, “So I just follow this?” Darius nods, “It’s not much really, but the building believes we should restrict you guys a little bit.” The schedule involves breakfast, lunch, dinner, free time, and research? I arch an eyebrow, “Research?” Darius laughs at my expression, “Relax, it’s just a time where you, Dr. Hathaway, a couple scientists, and I discuss your gift.” Well aren’t you just smiles and rainbows. Darius grabs his clipboard from the desk, “Well I’ll be going then Al. It was nice meeting you. If you need me just yell out my name.” I smile, “Alright Darius thanks.” He waves, and then he’s gone. According to my schedule, I currently have free time for an hour then I need to go to the labs on the twelfth floor. I rush over to the computer to see what Nyasia was talking about. She wasn’t exaggerating; you can order anything from this website.

xxx By the time I’ve finished shopping from the catalog my room has been completely remodeled to my liking. A bookshelf full of books has been placed near my dresser, my bed sheets are baby blue, I bought new clothes, and I tried In-&-Out for the first time. Darius’s voice blows through the speaker, “Having a fun time?” I look at the camera and nod my head. Darius chuckles, “Well, sorry I have to end it. You need to be at the labs in twelve minutes. The security guard is coming to pick you up, he should be there any-” There’s a harsh knock at my door, and when I open it my mood is ruined. Josh stands there leaning against the threshold, “Ready brat?” I glare at him, “Sure.” We wait in the line together for the elevator, “Nice fire tricks, where’d they find you the circus?” Josh smirks, “Jealously is an ugly trait.” I laugh right back at him, “Can’t be as ugly as you.” Josh mocks being hurt by placing his hand over his heart, “Ouch Alix, is that all you got?” I mumble under my breath, “Shut up, andlet’s just get this over with.” In the elevator Josh is quiet, but only for a moment, “What was with the flirting between you and Blake?” The other kids in the room turn their attention to Josh and me. I narrow my eyes at him, “First of all stay out of my business. Second of all, we weren’t flirting.” We weren’t even talking how could he know? Josh sweetly smiles at me, “Trust me brat I know when I see flirting.” He needs to shut up before the other kids start spreading rumors, “Like you would have a girlfriend.” Everyone in the elevator bursts with laughter except for Josh. He simple just stares down at me, “Once.”

xxx On the twelfth floor there are ten larger rooms each filled with a different kind of lab. In my lab there is a desk in the middle of the room, a glass wall that separates a bunch of sitting scientists, and multiple of needles on the desk. Perfect. Dr. Hathaway and Darius are sitting on the same side of the desk smiling at me. I take a seat on the opposite side and shrug, “So now what?” Dr. Hathaway coughs, “Well, today we’re going to ask you a few questions about your gift and also to get to know you personally.” Josh sits beside me, “She’s not a Blake, but she definitely has an attitude.” Darius comes to my defense, “I heard you threw fire at her. I’d be pretty pissed to.” Darius winks at me, and I can’t help to smile. Dr. Hathaway takes out a notepad and a pen, “Right well shall we begin?” I sit back in my seat, “Let’s do this.”
“How would you describe your personality?”
“Sarcastic, loud-mouth, and grumpy, you know the usual teenage loner. My fifth grade teacher used to call me a peanut gallery, whatever that means.” Dr. Hathaway nods and scratches down some notes, “I see Alix, well what do you like to do in your free time? Any hobbies?” I fiddle with my hands feeling incredibly shy for some reason, “I like to read and write.” Dr. Hathaway continues to write as well as the scientists behind the glass wall, “What do you write about Alix?” Darius’s smile gives the courage to continue, “About the spirits who visit me. I’d rather not discuss about my journal right now.” Dr. Hathaway looks up at me form under his glasses, “Alix, I apologize, but we need a little information about your gift in order to identify it.” I nod my head, “Each time I experience a vision afterwards I write it down in my journal. I’ve been doing this ever since I was ten.” Dr. Hathaway writes the word journal and an arrow pointing to the word spirits. Darius senses that I’m uncomfortable and starts asking the questions, “Al, are the spirits nice to you?”
“Some are. Some aren’t.”
Dr. Hathaway is writing down every word in the conversation, and it makes me even more nervous. Darius warmly smiles at me, “You’re doing great. Let’s just talk about how your gift works and then the therapy session will be over.” Josh chuckles along with Darius and his therapy joke. Why is he here? Dr. Hathaway coughs, “Yes, funny indeed. Alix do your visions put you in a coma-like state?” I look at Darius’s smile when I respond, “Yeah, the longest I’ve been out for is six months, but the dreams range from minutes, to days, and even months.” I’ve caught everyone’s attention, even Josh’s, “They aren’t just dreams. I experience their death in their bodies. It’s always death, but in different locations and times. It’s like my own little history lesson, just more violent.” Dr. Hathaway sets his pen down after he’s finished, “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.” He dozes off for a while then stares at me, “It’s just their death you experience?” I shrug, “I experience a little of their life first, but it’s usually the moments before their death.” Dr. Hathaway scribbles one last thing, then grabs all of the papers, “Well we’re done for today. Thank you Alix, we’ll be seeing you again in a day or two.” He shakes my hand and hurriedly exits the door. I nod my heads toward the needles, “What are those for?” Darius sighs heavily, “They’re used to activate gifts, but we can’t seem to find one to use for you. See?” He picks up a needle and it’s labeled with ‘mind control.’ Blake. I want to ask about Blake, but not in front of Josh, “So, can I go back to my room now?” Darius stands up,“Yeah, ready to go?” I nod, and walk with Josh and Darius to the elevator.

xxxWhen I walk back to my room I accidently bump into Blake, “Sorry.” Blake smirks down at me, but doesn’t speak, “No problem princess.” I look at him with disgust then walk around him into my room. I pick up my schedule that has been left on my desk. It states that it is dinner right now, but I decide to take a shower.

xxx After my shower, I order a chicken salad and soda from the online store. There’s a knock on my door, and I expect it’s my food. When I open my door Nyasia is standing there holding her dinner smiling at me, “I thought we could have dinner together.” I really want to slam the door in her face, but willingly I invite her in. She places her dinner on my dresser and takes in her surroundings, “I see that you used the website.” I nod, “Hey Nyasia, can I ask you a question?” Nyasia grabs her food and sits on my bed, “Sure.” I sit next to her, “Do you know Blake?” Nyasia throws her head back and laughs, “Of course I do! Everyone does, he’s pretty much the bad boy of PGC. You have feelings for him I can feel it.” I scowl at her, “I don’t like him. He’s just… getting in the way. What do you mean you can feel it?” There’s another knock on my door. Finally food. I open the door to see Blake’s beautiful smile holding my salad and soda. “Here you go gorgeous.” I snatch my food from him, “Why don’t you just talk with your voice like normal people?” Blake winks at me then looks over my shoulder, “Hey Nyasia, you guys having a sleep over? Can I join?” I shut the door in his face, “You think I like him? Please.” Nyasia rolls her eyes, “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.” I sit next to Nyasia and eat my salad, “I don’t want to get to know him.” Nyasia finishes her dinner, and abruptly stands up, “Well sucks for you. The children on this entire floor have a group session tomorrow. Guess who’ll be there?” I arch an eyebrow, “What group session?” Darius’s voice explodes from the speaker, “My bad, I didn’t give you the weekly schedule. I’ll print it out for you tomorrow.” I look back at Nyasia, “Well, let’s meet up in the elevator line again.” Nyasia gives me an enormous hug, “Of course! Goodnight Alix, sweet dreams.”

xxx After Nyasia leaves I retrieve my journal from my bookshelf and jump onto my bed. I flip to a new page and right Baseema’s name at the top of the page. The static from the speaker picks up, “Al, what are you doing?” I raise my journal up for the camera to see, “Writing.” Darius decides not to investigate, “Oh alright. Please be in bed by ten, I don’t want you or me getting in trouble.”

xxxWhen I finish writing Baseema’s story I slide under my bed covers. I miss my family, Mom Dad, Tommy, and even Christina. “Hey Darius, how do I contact my family?” The awful static returns, “Geez Al, were you paying attention to the orientation at all? You write a letter like the old fashion way, hand it to me, I review it, then I send it to your family.” I giggle, “Alright, I guess I’ll do it tomorrow. Goodnight Darius.”
“Good night Alix.”

xxx For the first time in a month I have a peaceful dream. In my dream, I’m a hipster with no troubles and no responsibilities. I can do whatever I want. In the distance there is a boy on a motorcycle holding out his hand for me. It’s not until I get closer I realize the boy on the bike is Blake.

[sugasu]

black cocaine v2

First Chapter

Wow this will probably be rather long so please, bear with me. I'll try to address everything in section so it won't be too much of a cluster ********.

The Good
Your premise is very interesting and compelling. Alix at times is a pretty good character and her family seem fairly genuine. I liked the outlying characters as we are given just the right amount of detail to be able to judge them and their actions, albeit through Alix's point of view. I also really enjoy her power. It's very original and makes the story more compelling.

What needs work
The General: In terms of format, for easier reading break up the paragraphs more and give your dialogue their own lines. This makes it easier to tell when someone is talking. In dialogue, I would suggest using more conjunctions because that's just how people talk. Without them dialogue has a tendency of feeling stilted and unnatural. Watch where you need commas because you're missing a lot.

• In Depth: Characters - I would highly suggest changing the spelling of Alix's name. It may seem great because it is unique and can seemingly reflect that therefore the character is unique but it is honestly just a terrible distraction. I have never seen the spelling of Alex (male or female) with an "i" and I'm sure the same holds true for others. A name is a name and just something that our parents give us. It doesn't make or define a person and shouldn't be a focus at all. On the same subject of Alix, she seems like a very "me against the world" kind of character at times when that isn't the case at all. Her mom and dad obviously love her and it shouldn't take Baseema giving her a life lesson in death to convince her of that. It also seemed strange that Alix thought it was alright to touch the radio of a complete strangers car. It's generally considered poor etiquette if you do that. Alix really just needs to be a solid character, even if you only see a little bit of who she really is at first. This is just the first chapter. Take your time with it, we don't need to know every little detail of her and her life within the first five minutes.

Josh seems like a bleepin a*****e and while that's obviously who he is going to be (because PGC is supposedly good but is actually bad), you don't want your sort of greeter to be a d**k right off the bat especially if PGC is secretly evil! Evil corporation want to lull you into a false sense of security before revealing the douche that they are. Give undercurrents that hint at the sinister nature instead of everyone being butts.

I loved the mom, minus the continuous repetition of "scowling eyes". That's buns if that's the only thing that Alix associates to her mom (I'm assuming it isn't but that's just what it seems like). In general, just slow it down with the characters. Life stories are part of the whole, not a side note, and as such you don't have to tell the reader everything at once.

• Setting: The setting was very vague and there wasn't much of a sense of place. You tell us random physical things in Alix's room, saying it has the basics and then telling us what those basics are is unnecessary. A room is a room is a room. If it's a kitchen, just say that and maybe that it's dirty or clean or their were even stains on the ceiling. If the room is unimportant, such as Alix's room, then you don't even have to describe it. We know what a room looks like and what it would most likely hold and that's all you need out unimportant settings.
I had a problem with Alix being able to figure out her location with reliving Baseema's death. It's a little insulting that the only things that lead Alix to figure out she was in the middle east were the women in hijabs and burqas and slightly tan, hairy men. Having her feel the environment (ie weather, heat, etc.) as well as the architecture could be further identifiers as opposed to almost nothing. There are plenty of places where those two types people could be from, not just the middle east.

In general, you only need a word or two to describe a setting. If it is important, focus on the emotional and less on the totality of the physical objects that encompass the area. I could care less about the layout. I want to know what it makes Alix feel.

• Writing: Because this is in the first person, you have total access to everything that is Alix. I want to see more emotional output from your character. I don't want to read about how a character got up, brushed their teeth, did their hair, etc. (just as an example, not saying you did that) and more about how mornings gave them a sense of loathing or belonging or left them in despair.

There's a lot of unnecessary summarization that could have just been another part of the scene. Like when Alix's mom hugs her and says she loves her at the end of the third paragraph. There is no reason for this and takes away an experience for the reader. How does Alix react to this? Are hugs a regular thing? Or does Alix think her mom is only doing it because she's leaving? Just really get into the feeling of Alix and how things are through her eyes, rather than this almost general, sweeping observations that is the whole of the experience and not the experience itself.

There's a lot of upfront experiences that basically explain everything but I think it would be more successful if it were more subtle.

• Questions: While Alix's power is really interesting, I don't understand why she has control of the body, and essentially a memory that is not even her own, as well as the fact that her actions can influence the "people" around her. That doesn't make any sense to me. If it already happened (which it obviously did if they're dead) then shouldn't it play the same as when the person was alive? I find it incredibly difficult to believe that the memory is almost this open world kind of thing since you even said Alix was just reliving the death of a spirit. Also, if Alix is in the body of someone else, wouldn't it make more sense for her to inherently understand the language of the people around her? These are just some things to think about.

Why doesn't Alix know any French at all? Especially since her mother still has an accent and still speaks it on the regular? How is Alix's mother's profession confusing? It was anything but. She majored in English but then became a baker. If you want it to be confusing then add more on to that. Like "My mother went to college for writing, claiming to be the next Twain of her generation before she promptly switched to business. She said it only made sense and writing was a fools errand that could never provide like a good desk job could. While she did manage to get her degree, she found a desperate love for baking, became a certified massage therapist and promptly opened a cupcake shop." Idk, just have fun with it!


As a whole, good job, this is obviously a rough draft and just your first chapter out of many, I hope! Again, just take your time with everything. Introduce your characters and have them talk a bit, add a few more casual, everyday settings and really expand and explore. It's easier to cut extra things that are already there than to have to add to something (at least in my experience that's how it is). I really look forward to your next chapter and I really hope this was even a little bit helpful. emotion_bigheart

[black cocaine v2]

Benii B

thank you, I appreciate your help. 4laugh
yeah, these are pretty much rough drafts/just for fun. sweatdrop

[sugasu]

black cocaine v2

thank you, I appreciate your help. 4laugh
yeah, these are pretty much rough drafts/just for fun. sweatdrop

Sure thing!
Rough drafts are always fun, woo! 4laugh