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NOTE: I made my comments to the pieces at the post below for Masaru, Hongxin, Emilia and Suzanne.
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Revision:
Learning to Ride a Bicycle
Girls were forbidden to try risky sports in most families in my hometown, and
bicycle riding was considered one of the dangerous exercises.
Eager to ride a bicycle for a long time, my father’s bike was so tempting in my mind’s eye. I sneaked in the room which was the bike located, with silent footsteps, releasing the spring from the stand carefully, pushing it slowly to reduce the noise. My desire was eventually satisfied.
The equipment with a two-square-feet iron rack behind that was quite big and heavy, especially for a small girl in grade five. However, my ambition prevailed against
difficulties.
The school playground was the best place to practice, for the olive shape pasture was one foot higher than the running path. I scooted my left leg along the edge of the grass, with my right leg stretched through the space between the seat and the front wheel. My whole torso was tilted on the left side. Although the countless failures were painful, they gave me an unforgettable impression.
When I fell on the pasture, the fresh grass smell relieved my pain somehow. In order to balance my riding, I sometimes pushed to the right side too much that would thrust me to the running path. Then the dirt was stirred up. The dust not only caused me to cough, but it also made my injuries more painful. The dirt mixed with my bleeding looked as though a few earth worms had crawled beneath my knee and elbow. At the time, my secret was more concern than my injuries.
“Look! That tomboy deserves punishment. She must fall in ditch,” my mother teased.
“Oh! That’s a good excuse,” I thought I could use her comments to justify my accidents.
Riding bicycle shouldn’t be a risky activity if one learns on a small one. Anyway, I have been satisfied with my action and also have impressed me very much.
324 words
Hi Suzanne,
Could you perhaps dramatize your opening? Perhaps you could have a conversation with your mother?
"Mom, I want to learn to ride a bicycle. It'll be so much fun!"
"Absolutely not!" she replied, "Girls do NOT ride bicycles. It is too dangerous!"
Masaru,
Do you type inside the blog comment box? I think you are using the "enter" key at the ends of lines, so your paragraphs read like lines of poetry.
The same as for Suzanne. Why not use a conversation to introduce the story:
"Hey guys. You want to go catch eels with my dad tonight?"
Matsu was a fisherman's son and one of my classmates. I never could have predicted that I would remember this night for over fifty years. . .
and so on
Hongxin Guo said...
When I was a child,the city wall of Peking was the place that I most liked to go in summer days.The moat,like a emerald necklace,flew around the majestic city wall and ran to The Grand Channel. On the banks, willows made their deep shadows for the fishermen.The cicadas and the frogs were playing a summer symphony in high spirit.The dragonflies and the swallows skimmed over the water happily.It was the best place for angling,chatting and picnicking. However,the root of the city wall was my paradise,and the thing I most liked to do was to catch crickets.
Crouching and searching in the growth of the grass were a hard work,for it was very suffocated under the hot summer sun.Not for long,I already steamed with sweat.Suddenly,I heard a cricket chirping in the deep grass.I tip-toed to him. The chirp stopped. I stopped too,to make him feel the danger was over. He chirped again. I located at him and swooped him with my wire meshed hood.
It usually needed a long time to rummage the grass,the debris.Sometimes some skills were needed, such as to pour water into the hole that was located. When I caught a cricket who looked valiantly before and now was my prisoner,I put him into a paper tube with joyfulness.
At this moment,under the blazing sun,the beads of sweat dripped on the ground, and my shirt had mucked, so I pull over shirt simply and barebacked. And continued my work to search another one....
Feeling the sting on my shoulder, I realized my skin was burned.... Under the scorning sun, a tired boy with a dirty face lurched back home with many tubes.
Childhood Momories
The winter was cold, it was twenty degrees below zero outside. Our father was on duty for a week. Our mother wasn’t able to get up early, and prepare breakfast for us because she was put on sleep pills.
We, my two younger brothers and I, always had to compete on something. Since we were on ourselves in the mornings, there it was- to be first at school.
Being careful to not woke up our mother, we ate, dressed, and left quickly.
The next day, we didn‘t eat trying to leave earlier than the others.
On the third day, we put- on our school forms, sweaters, coats, fluffy hats, and even boots and went to bed with our bags for being able to get up and run after the alarm went on.
Stupid hair! The two of them had one problem less than me. I had big hair which needed to be combed, so that is why I was the looser. I cried.
Those competitions are important memories for us, we talk about them now, and we laugh.
(179 words)
The Night of Hunting Eel
“Hey guys. You want to go catch eels tonight with my father’s barge?”
Matsu was a fisherman’s son and one of my classmates. I never could predicted that I would remember this night for over fifty years.
At dusk, four of us pulled the 20feet barge to the water front and jumped in it. It was low tide. Full moon above horizon made a runway for us on the dark sea. Matsu propelled the boat on it by sculling, moving both arms back and force, balancing himself as standing on the end. Ten years old kid handling the scull like a fisherman! We looked up him with amazement.
Both ends of the beach, there were mile long bulwarks and across the beach another breakwater showed us it’s top where we could catch eels. Splash of the water made by fish were seen here and there. White bands of ripple water were coming toward us one after the other with a lullaby sound. Outside of bulwark, we could hear the sound of raging seas hitting the wall, like a symphony of drum. We felt we were in the bosom of Nature.
“Look!” Suddenly Matsu moved his lantern to show us a moving creature along side of rocks against the bulwarks. He grabbed a rectangular stake net, dipped it, scooped the thing, and thrown it on the floor. Two feet long eel!
“Eels hide themselves between rocks or in holes. They are nocturnal fish, so they come out to get food at night.” His voices were sounding like a teacher in the class.
On his left hand, he held a 3 feet bamboo stick with sharp pointed steel on end then pierced a small fish with lined fishhook. With aid of lantern and moon light, I searched holes between rocks. Matsu stretched the bamboo stick to a hole, holding loop end of line on right hand. Nothing happened.
At next hole, Matsu moved the bamboo stick as if the bait was still alive, and then we saw he pulled the line sharply toward the boat. Another eel on the hook! He made a circle with thumb, forefinger and middle finger, and then held the eel by its neck to unhook. We felt reverence for his action.
For an hour or so, we had marvellous, exiting time. By the time tide was changing, Matsu forced us to go back to the shore which nobody against him anymore.
We never went back to catch eels after that. Matsu never finished elementary school and I hadn’t seen him for a long time since then. Later on in my life, whenever I came across the hardships, the memory of the night with Matsu comforted my souls and gave me courage to stand up again.
Third draft 450words
Zarghoona,
I assume this took place in Afghanistan? I'd like to know a bit more about your beginning. What "duty" does your father perform. Why does your mom need sleeping pills?
Also, can you add detail on what you ate to make it more interesting?
Learning to Ride a Bicycle
“Mom, can you give me money to rent a bicycle?” I asked
“Bicycling? You dare to say that; you are not a boy,” my mom rejected
I realized girls were forbidden to try risky sports in most families in my hometown,
and bicycle riding was considered one of the dangerous exercises.
Eager to ride a bicycle for a long time, my father’s bike was so tempting in my mind’s eye. I sneaked in the room which was the bike located, with silent footsteps, releasing the spring from the stand carefully, pushing it slowly to reduce the noise. My desire was eventually satisfied.
The equipment with a two-square-feet iron rack behind that was quite big and heavy, especially for a small girl in grade five. However, my ambition prevailed against
difficulties.
The school playground was the best place to practice, for the olive shape pasture was one foot higher than the running path. I scooted my left leg along the edge of the grass, with my right leg stretched through the space between the seat and the front wheel. My whole torso was tilted on the left side. Although the countless failures were painful, they gave me an unforgettable impression.
When I fell on the pasture, the fresh grass smell relieved my pain somehow. In order to balance my riding, I sometimes pushed to the right side too much that would thrust me to the running path. Then the dirt was stirred up. The dust not only caused me to cough, but it also made my injuries more painful. The dirt mixed with my bleeding looked as though a few earth worms had crawled beneath my knee and elbow. At the time, my secret was more concern than my injuries.
“Look! That tomboy deserves punishment. She must fall in ditch,” my mother teased.
“Oh! That’s a good excuse,” I thought I could use her comments to justify my accidents.
Riding bicycle shouldn’t be a risky activity if one learns on a small one. Anyway, I have been satisfied with my action and also have impressed me very much.
354 words
Revision:
Childhood Memories
The winter was cold in Moscow, it was twenty degrees below zero outside. Our father, as a student of Military Academy, was away for a week. Our mother wasn’t able to get up early and prepare breakfast for us because her doctor put her on sleep pills.
We, my two younger brothers and I, always had to compete on something. Since we were on ourselves in the mornings, there it was- to be first at school.
“ Who will make it first for school?” asked my younger brother, we all looked at each other, and were already in a hurry.
To make them slow down I said, “Haste make waste” I knew I won’t be the winner with my big hair.
Being careful to not woke up our mother, we ate, dressed, and left quickly.
The next day, to make it faster, we didn‘t eat. We threw away the burgers which were prepared by our mother for our breakfast.
The third day was the funniest. We put- on our clothes: school forms, sweaters, coats, fluffy hats, even boots before going to bed. We placed our bags beside our beds. In the morning, after the alarm went on, the two of them got up, grabbed their bags, and run for the school.
Stupid hair! The two of them had one problem less than me. My big hair needed to be combed, so that is why I was the looser. I cried.
Those competitions are important memories for us, we talk about them now, and we laugh.
(257 words)
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