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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - COMPETITION ENTRY: Mr. Russo |
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The Accidental Protege Iggy Koopa I\"m your accidental protege... The gift, the blood, the thrownaway...\"         Since: 03-08-05 From: Marching on the city of Southern Cross Since last post: 1165 days Last activity: 1165 days |
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| Every day, when I’d walk home from the elementary school on One Hundred Fourteenth Street, I’d pass by Russo’s Butcher Shop. Oftentimes, my mother would give me some money to buy some chopped beef or chicken breast for dinner on the way back home, but I didn’t mind. Anthony Russo was a good man. He was in his early thirties, with thinning hair, and a full, jolly belly. He was always really nice to me, and he’d give my family deals sometimes since I’d frequent his shop quite a bit.
One day, though, something changed. It was a chilly March afternoon, and as I walked past Russo’s storefront in my cap and coat, there was a “closed” sign hanging on the door. It was strange; Mr. Russo always had the store open every weekday, and was never closed up. "Maybe he’s sick today", I thought. I packed up my thoughts and continued back home. My mother wasn’t very happy about me not bringing back the pork chops like she asked me to do, but I don’t think she was too mad at me, personally. After all, I had no control over the hours of a store that I didn’t own. The next day, after school, I went back to the shop, and once again, the store was closed up tight, and I began to feel suspicious. What the heck is Mr. Russo thinking, not coming to work in two days? As nameless, faceless people passed by on the streets, I fingered out some older man in a hat and suit, probably on his way to work, and asked him politely, yet pleadingly if he knew what had happened to Mr. Russo. The man spoke quickly through his mustache as his eyes seemed to droop, either with emotion or with age; I couldn’t tell. He told me that Anthony Russo was dead; died a few nights ago. He didn’t know the details, but wished me the best of luck as he said his farewell and disappeared into a mass of people across the road. Time felt like it was stopped, as the towering buildings loomed over me, once with great strength and pride, now like gigantic, granite judges who just sentenced a man to death. I couldn’t believe my ears. I stood there, spellbound by some kind of force. I never knew anyone that died, and this new turn of events was a strange new concept for me. I didn’t want to believe it, so I asked someone else; this time, a middle aged lady in a blouse and skirt with her blonde hair all done up, and shopping bags in her hands. She gave me the same response, and apologized for whatever reason before turning away and leaving me in my new inherent misery. I must’ve stood in front of that storefront for a good ten minutes before I rubbed away the rogue tears that were trying to build up in my eyes before crashing down to the peninsula of my chin. When I finally got home, my mother immediately interrogated me with questions as to why I didn’t bring the pork chops home for a second time in a row. I told her that Mr. Russo was dead. She brought her hand up to her mouth in a slight gasp. I thought she wasn’t going to believe me, but, for some reason she did. It wasn’t typical in 1952 to believe a child when they give a story about why they didn’t complete a certain task, or do something just right, but for some strange reason, she accepted this story as unreserved truth. After a dinner of potatoes and vegetables (since we apparently had no pork chops), I decided I wanted answers as to why someone as young as Mr. Russo died so abruptly. I sat quietly on the landing of the stairs, covertly, trying to listen in on a conversation my mother and father were trying to have in private. I could hear their whispers as I was perched above them in the darkness of the hallway, like a sniper, getting my prey of information in my line of sight before I pulled the trigger, and all answers would be solved by a bullet made of sense. I distinctly picked out several words and phrases that I had never heard before; particularly, ‘mob’, and ‘knocked off’. I didn’t know what they meant, and finding that there was nothing of any consequence to be made out of what was said, I put the conversation I heard in the back of my brain and slept on it. It didn’t make sense. Life didn’t make much sense, though, at times. Millions of questions flooded my head that night, and I had dreams of Mr. Russo being clonked in the head by an angry mob of people in the streets. Mr. Russo’s death was the first one of many that I’d be associated with. Brooklyn was a strange place in these times, and I had to wonder how much longer I’d be stuck here before I could finally leave, and be away from the mobs of people indiscriminately knocking people out. Word Count: 852 (Last edited by Raoh on 05-07-08 03:46 PM) |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable  Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| A few of the sentences came across oddly to me but otherwise I am really impressed with this one. The plot was very interesting, the character well developed and the innocence that he exhibits at the end was actually touching. Honestly I think this is one of the best things you've written.
Creativity: 10/10 Spelling: 10/10 Grammar: 9/10 Character: 9/10 (I would have liked to know his name) Plot: 10/10 Total: 48/50 Edit: Math while sleepy is bad (Last edited by Elara on 05-15-08 04:04 AM) |
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Lord Vulkas Mormonus Vile High Xeodent of Xeomerica.  Since: 10-29-04 From: North Carolina, United States. World, Sol System, milky way Since last post: 94 days Last activity: 94 days |
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Actually, Elara, your score would be 48, all added together, not 49. 
Anyway, on to the judging! Creativity: 9/10 Not hugely original, but it was a good take on the effects of the mafia. Spelling: 10/10 I didn't spot any grammatical errors, nor did I check, so I'll just give you the 10. Grammar: 7/10 Sadly, this is your wekest spot. I'm not sure that I could call it grammar, exactly, more like the writing style which got a bit annoying. Also, there were a couple places where your character's thoughts weren't in quotes. Just a bit more diting probably would have made it a lot better. On a side note, you reall improved it with what editing you did right after you posted it, good job with that, but it's not yet to perfection. Character: 7/10 Stereotypical naive child. I would have given you an eight, but then I read that little sentence about how in 1952 they didn't believe children's excuses(not exactly character, but I couldn't figure out where else to put it.). Hate to say it, but time hasn't made people trust children any more. If it were a different excuse, I probably would have hiven an 8. Plot: 8/10 Pretty good plot, not horribly complicated, and not a lot happens, but for a story this short, that's alright. Total: 41/50 Pretty good, really, but with some touching up, and perhaps watching for a few things that could make the writing have more flow, it could be a lot better. |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| Thanks for catching that, my brain was in space it seems. |
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