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Rewright Wat a way to go............. by Wilmer Donkor self

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want to make love to it;)
Love it:D
liked it:)
was ok(Y)
............................................. :-/
disliked it:|
it sucked :E
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burn this crap and execute the writer:M
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  20:54:49  18 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
Rewright Wat a way to go............. by Wilmer Donkor self

I decided to rewright my story after a few comments and after Amoki asked me if he could rewright my story (his wil come on the forum soon) I corrected some errors and added some story. here it is:

My brother told me to stay home and wait for him to find a big catch. But I got inpatient and wanted to go. Geus wat, that was the wrong choice. My brother said he wouldn
  08:17:27  20 February 2004
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Amoki
back with a vengeance
(V.I.P.)

 

 
On forum: 07/31/2003
Messages: 1729
This is my version of your story, Mr Donkor. I will try to give reason for the correction/advancement I have made.

What a way to go
By Wilmer Donkor

It was not suppose to end like this, me sitting here in my own blood, in this desolated land with no friend to comfort to my deathbed. It was just not fair, when hundreds of others was still very much alive and kicking within the 30KM square land.

IT all began like a dream.

I used to live directly across the Rotterdam harbour. Pa used to tell me to study hard, so I wouldn't hace to end up like him driving forklifts within the harbour, or end up getting low wages like my ma, a secretary. He had always shoved me with visions of me being the CEO who owned the big ships in teh harbour, or the distant rich doctor uncle who distanted himself from us. I never blamed Dad for doing so, for me myself too wished not to live inside this cubical hellhole known as my apartment.

But I messed up.At 15, I was already a victim of the 'coffeeshop'. To take drugs, I did a lot of things- breaking into neighbours house to get money, beating my ma when I was denied of the golden syillings of Euros, and stole my Pa's wallet. Before I knew it, I was 23, withour a life, without a job, without education, and a long list of bad record.

Not to mention without a home too. Pa's long dead after a forklift accident, and ma's to cold in her grave because of breast cancer. The apartment we used to live in was sold to cover their bill.

After my brother left me (for good, he said) to have a live of his own ,my life was without a definite purpose... until I found the Zone. Or rather The Zone found me. Rumour had it that the Zone, claimed as the newest frontier of man, was dangerous, yet lucractively reward those who was brave enough to go. Deciding to take my chance, I broke into another house for the very last time, got my cash, and proceed to get to Ukraine. After all, striking rich at The Zone was better then playing Lotto, because you can work to get rich instead of waiting for luck. NO one seem to have come back from there to tell us anything about the Zone, but maybe it was because that they were already rich and lived somewhere else.

(this served as a beginning of your story. I introduced your character, gave him an identity/character. The first paragraph was to confirm how the story will end, because your title had already saying that you are going to die. Also, notice that I did not always open my sentence with "I do this, I do that." Instead, I put in thoughts.)

***

"THat was easy"

The five of us sneaked into the Zone unnoticed. Somehow, the guards were stupid enough to not to repair the broken fence which was,obviously, purposely cut by someone who too was sneaking into The Zone. They were even stupid enough to patrol the area once per half-an-hour. IT was too easy, nothing that we had expected.

THere were five of us- Mark, Chris, Dennis, Tar and I. All of us happened to meet during the trip to Kiev via the Euro train. Though we knew nothing of each other, we were smart enough to put all our money together to put together rations, bullets, a map and compass, and five antiquated TOZ hunting rifle from the 'black' streets of Kiev. With the combined power of 12 G buckshots from out guns, nothing could stop us. Or could it?

"YEah, couldn't agree more." I found myself praising our luck. If everything went smooth like this, we could be rich within one year. After all, how strong can mutants be?

We found out the first night. After a day going north, we realise the compass was useless- it always pointed towards the north! Something was definitely wrong with the ground. We were left with no option but to camp for the night in the forest.

They came in the darkness; we had never expected them to come so soon. They came with 7-or was it?- of them while we were sitting around a campfire. Mark was suddenly jumped from behind. It was horrible to see how the beast ripped his arm off for dinner. The scream was... horrifying. The rest of us jumped up grabbing the TOZ rifles and blasted away. I could had sweared I hit tough flesh with the slugs, but all of a sudden they disappeared, leaving us stunt and mark one arm less.

Stunted, we took our things and, without another word, ran aong the nearest road. We have to find shelter. There was no way we would let ourself got jumped again.

"Look! A light!" Someone shotued. "LEt's go!"

THen another scream. THe scream was the kind that made yor goosebump raise- it sounded like "HElp!" but they were muffled sound of blood, as if... one of us was jumped on.

When we finally burst into the house, we found another man inside who pointed an AK at us.

"WHo the hell..."
"We meant no harm sir." Tar shouted. "Some bloody mutants got us. Please, we need to stay for the night."
"Ah...new stalker." HE smiled, then stopped when he saw the pale-faces staring at him. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"Of course we're not!" Chris replied. Suddenly, we realised there was only the 3 of us. MArk and Dennis was gone. Oh shit. They were gone. We didn't wait for them to show up. Quickly, we block up everything, and waited for the morning.

Barkoff, as we get to know the new stalker, was not exactly a veteran, but he stayed in The Zone long enough to know that no one should be moving at the night. During the night, we quickly learned our lesson- money didn't come easy in The Zone. We also made an important decision- Barkoff would be our leader. WE will need his experience to reach the place known as The Camp, the place where stalkers lived in peace.

***

When people says "Everything will be alright through the night", never trust them, especially inside The ZOne. OUr next morning did not become alright.

After a quick nervous meal of jem and crackers, we moved out... only to find two tattered bodies, their face gone. The only recognizable feature that told us that they were Mark and Denise were their clothes.

"Oh God." Tar shouted while Chris and I vomited out heart out. The face were streaks of red and black. Flies were hovering around their bodies, their 'zzzzzz' sound telling us what would become of us soon enough. "Oh shit."

"You could have consider that when you come, my friend." Barkoff remarked quite heartlessly. "If you can stay in The Zone long enough, you will see this almost everyday.

Suddenly, Tar screamed "LEt me have them! Damnit, Let em have them!" Next, he ran out... only to be hit at the head by Barkoff so hard he felled to the floor instantly.

"Look, kid. You are not going to survive long if you keep behaving like this. I've lost my friends too before. Save your fury for another day. You don't know what is out there waiting for you."

Tar just stared at Barkoff, eyes still blazing with anger. "Those were my friends, bastard."

"I never said they were not."

Suddenly Chris voiced. "I am not staying here. I want to go home. I still had my girlfriend back in Scotland. Bloody hell, I never expected this will happen." But then he stopped whining. "That's it. When we reached the Camp, I'm out. I rather dig sewage and lived on benefits then dying here. You guys can have my thigns then"

"Fair enough." Looking into Tar's eyes, I could see he was too trying to conceal the fact that we could end up like Chris and Denise.

***

Swiftly, we moved quietly among the asphalt road. Barkoff was the one who advised us to do so, and no one was arguing. As long as we could reached The Camp, we will do anything. The birds were still chirping, but I doubt that the morning would going to be serene.

Suddenly, crows flew from the nearby trees and flew up.

"Fall back! something's waiting for..." Barkoff commanded when figures popped up from the trees. Ambush!

Tar was the first to die.. While we scurried for cover, he slowly walked backwards while slowly shooting his gun one by one. BUt cool under fire didn't impress the Gods much. Without warning, a "Shooom' sound. Right in front of my eyes, the RPG slammed into Barkoff's body. Moments latter, the only sign that he was on Earth before was his bloody TOZ and two bloody legs, along with pieces of flesh painting the ground red.

"THere's a house over there! Go!" Barkoff screamed. That was before he too felled victim to a bullet. But he was not quite dead yet.

"We have to help him!"Chris shouted to me. "He is the only one who knows to go to The Camp!"

I found myself becoming more panicky. "You want to help him? Go, Damn it. I want to live."

"Damnit, Donker. HE helped us!" Chris could almost came to my knees to beg. "We need him! We must at least die with him"

I did not care. I ran towards the house. Damn Chris. He can die, along like the rest of them. I don't care if I am selfish or not being grateful to Darkoff. I will live to fight another day...

Until a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I was hit.

AS fresh blood flowed out of my body, I forced myself to crawl into the house, then settle at a corner. Using a pocketknife, I cut my clothes open... and found that I was hit in the chest. There was no more hope for me. Bandaging wouldn't do- I'll die from internal bleeding.

Now, as unconsciousness starting to flood me out, my mind starting to play tricks on me. Flashback of me taking my first marijuana high. My father wanting to strike rich. Me beating my ma for money. All the time wasted on my life. SUddenly, I realised why no one ever warned us about the danger of The Zone- they never lived to tell about it. And the soldiers at the fence... why would they bother to get themselves into a firefight when The Zone could take care of us through means and ways?

Life was an illusion, I know. Greed and money got me here, and selfishness caused me to die alone. Even now, I could still here gunshots. Chris and Barkoff were still fighting. Maybe they might get out, and maybe Chris could go back home to his family, maybe marrying the girlfriend. Maybe he would die, but at least he could die with dignity. Me? I died like a coward, a pervert. I could have chose to die together with the others. Instead, I got selfish... and lying here to die.

Maybe if they survive, they could bury me honorably, and maybe I could get to see flowers from the other side. If not, maybe rats would be my pallbearers. Yes, I sneered at myself before I passed out forever. At least now I was giving back to nature.

What a way to go indeed...

End/


Now, to explain things out.
1) I intended to make this story memorable- that was why I tried to portray the character (Wilmer) as a selfish lad. But of course you are not a crack-smoking guy, are you? That was also why I changed the way the story ended a little but from the original. Plot wise too, but not a big one. I don't want to do anything that had little function to the plot. Example, like the way Chris died. Why don't put him into a big bad conflict instead of killing the poor man?
2) This is only a roughly done story- I have not sandpapered it, because I did not bother to do this story like it was mine. Normally, I would have written all on a piece of A4 refill, then type it in. For this one, I just sent what I came to mine. Of course, not a very proffesional way to do things though. I know, I did not bother to use a spellchecker or to redo my grammar, but this is just an example.
3) I put in a lot of conversation. This is one of the way to make a story interesting, not just pure action.
4) I paragraphed everything. Why? Put things neatly into short paragraph instead of long ones can I) impress readers II) do not get the readers' eyes tired of seeing a lot of words in one jumble.
5) If you didn't notice... the words are almost twice as long as your original part. But that is the only way you can boost the quality of the story.

Well, that it. I can do better, but... bah, just don't feel like it. I do writing for fun, though I am serious to a certain degree. Anyway, continue writing. Having an interest to learn to write could being you a long way, maybe it might lead into a writing carrier. Who knows?
  09:00:37  20 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
Wilmer Donkor

I am not a crack smoking junky (unless crack is your reference to weed (pot).
and people dont steal for weed (it just dont happen) not here anyway. the coffeeshop's here only sell weed because that is the only "legal" drug in holland (all other drugs that are mind altering are "hard" drugs which are even illigal here.

ITS A CLICHE TO MAKE THE DUTCHMAN A POTHEAD.
not everyone here is like that (although alot of people think we are)
  09:04:36  20 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
Wilmer Donkor

HE WHERE IS THE RPG??????????????????????????????????????????
  09:10:18  20 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
Wilmer Donkor

Never mind i found the rpg but dont understand what really happens

Tar was the first to die.. While we scurried for cover, he slowly walked backwards while slowly shooting his gun one by one. BUt cool under fire didn't impress the Gods much. Without warning, a "Shooom' sound. Right in front of my eyes, the RPG slammed into Barkoff's ( )body.Moments latter, the only sign that he was on Earth before was his bloody TOZ and two bloody legs, along with pieces of flesh painting the ground red.

"THere's a house over there! Go!" Barkoff : screamed. That was before he too felled victim to a bullet. But he was not quite dead yet.

BARKOF SERVIVES THE RPG (TALK ABOUT REALISTIC)
  14:05:40  20 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
Wilmer Donkor

this is a massege to all the people who visit thi page:

Which story did you like the most??????

PLZ PLZ PLZ REPLY
  19:28:17  20 February 2004
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Amoki
back with a vengeance
(V.I.P.)

 

 
On forum: 07/31/2003
Messages: 1729
no... I've change the victim to Tar instead of Barkoff- because Barkoff is the veteran ones. He should be the one who take cover first, not shooting out. This is really what I called realistic. Like I said again, Tar was cool under fire, but he WAS not taking cover. This is one of the place where I change the plot just to show realistic.
  19:32:30  20 February 2004
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Amoki
back with a vengeance
(V.I.P.)

 

 
On forum: 07/31/2003
Messages: 1729

---QUOTATION---
Wilmer Donkor

I am not a crack smoking junky (unless crack is your reference to weed (pot).
and people dont steal for weed (it just dont happen) not here anyway. the coffeeshop's here only sell weed because that is the only "legal" drug in holland (all other drugs that are mind altering are "hard" drugs which are even illigal here.

ITS A CLICHE TO MAKE THE DUTCHMAN A POTHEAD.
not everyone here is like that (although alot of people think we are)
---END QUOTATION---



I said steal money, didn't I? It make sense when you really wanted a high (for obvious reason, I don't know about the drug term). And weed is pot and pot is marijuana. And I never said that every Dutchman is a pothead- because Goodspeed isn't one . Making that generalisation would be saying something like A)every american is Anti-muslim and B) every African has AIDS. Those a just rediculest.

Youi don't happen to live across the Rotterdam Harbour, do you?
  19:34:24  20 February 2004
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Amoki
back with a vengeance
(V.I.P.)

 

 
On forum: 07/31/2003
Messages: 1729

---QUOTATION---
Wilmer Donkor

Never mind i found the rpg but dont understand what really happens

Tar was the first to die.. While we scurried for cover, he slowly walked backwards while slowly shooting his gun one by one. BUt cool under fire didn't impress the Gods much. Without warning, a "Shooom' sound. Right in front of my eyes, the RPG slammed into Barkoff's ( )body.Moments latter, the only sign that he was on Earth before was his bloody TOZ and two bloody legs, along with pieces of flesh painting the ground red.

"THere's a house over there! Go!" Barkoff : screamed. That was before he too felled victim to a bullet. But he was not quite dead yet.

BARKOF SERVIVES THE RPG (TALK ABOUT REALISTIC)
---END QUOTATION---



Hehehe, it was suppose to be Tar instead of Barkoff. My mistake. Should have sandpapered it.
  21:06:13  20 February 2004
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Wilmer Donkor
(Novice)
 
On forum: 02/18/2004
Messages: 20
The discussion Continu's...................................................................

You said that he was doing fine untill hr found the coffeeshop, refering that he has gotten a drug addiction, but sinds the coffeeshop only sells weed (and thats all they sell sinds there is a strong servalence on them) which us not an addictive drug (maybe mentally when you have VERY WEAK will) still its way to cheap to have to steal money and not woth the risk of burglary.

And its still a cliche to make a dutch man a drugaddict.

and further more read both our story's (i am reffering to this comment:


---QUOTATION---
no... I've change the victim to Tar instead of Barkoff- because Barkoff is the veteran ones. He should be the one who take cover first, not shooting out. This is really what I called realistic. Like I said again, Tar was cool under fire, but he WAS not taking cover. This is one of the place where I change the plot just to show realistic.
---END QUOTATION---




YOU are the one who lets Barkoff get hit with an rpg an I let Tar get hit READ BOTH STORY'S AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND (you dont have to explain what is your fault because you obviously didn't double check your story.)
 
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