Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-10319977-20160102141602/@comment-10319977-20160105213437

Sorry if I'm making this thread too long by repeatedly posting updated versions of the story. I'm not sure if I should edit my original comment and insert it there or not just in case I make some edits that mess up the story. I would like to say that I worried about the scare factor, so I will attempt to make the scene with the father (not brother, dupin) scarier, as well as add in a little plot-hole filler and make the father try to explain himself a little. Also, I appreciate the grammatical corrections, as that's not an area I'm too strong with. Lastly, it's awesome that my blank-slate protagonist idea worked out, as Empy imagined them as a girl but I personally imagine them as a boy. Either work since I made sure to leave out those details to help with immersion and relatability.

Updated version of the story #2:

As a kid I grew up with a single mother and three half-sisters, all of which were younger than myself. Aside from that, we never had a vehicle to travel anywhere and thus had to walk everywhere in the blistering cold. Needless to say, it forced me to grow up quite fast. It also gave me a lot of empathy for others, especially those less fortunate than myself.

You see, no matter what struggles I went through, I've always had a home, and despite getting fed up with them more often than not, I've always loved my family very much. This is why I've always empathized with the homeless. Not only are they lacking in obvious basic necessities: food, water, shelter, but they would either have to be completely disowned by their family or have none left to take them in, and that must be a very scary thing. However, all my feelings changed one night while I was walking home from the grocery store.

I was walking down the dimly lit road with my grocery bag in hand. It really wasn't ominous considering the steady, albeit somewhat infrequent flow of cars. That was until I walked past a nearly pitch black alley-way and suddenly, out of nowhere, a low voice groaned out my name. Needless to say I was terrified, and froze in place for what must have been minutes, until sense started to take over me again. Figuring my mind was just playing tricks on me, I started to move again and once more, froze in fear as the voice rang back out.

Now my heartbeat was growing faster and faster as I heard the voice start to repeatedly call out my name as it got closer and closer. Finally, a large, muscular man wearing an over-sized, dirt covered jacket and straggly jeans emerged from the shadows and grabbed me by the shoulders. His face has scars, some fresh. Some oozing with blood. He was looking straight into my eyes, his own wild and glossed over. He kept repeatedly mumbling my name in excitement, the stench of his foul breath flooding into my nostrils as I struggled not to vomit. I would have struggled but judging by the size of his arms and the look on his face he could have snapped my neck with ease.

Upon seeing the fear on my face his mumbling started to slow, only for me to feel his unkempt, gloved hand reach up and touch me on the shoulder. I began to feel short of breath, like I was having a panic attack. This was too much for me. I somehow found enough strength to snap out of my fear and push the man off of me, dropping my grocery bag and immediately breaking into a sprint towards home. I never looked back.

A couple days later I found my mother in the kitchen reading the newspaper. At first I didn't pay her any more attention than usual as I made myself breakfast. I had since gone back to the store to get groceries in the daytime. It wasn't until I heard her sniffling as she set down the paper and made her way to her bedroom that I took an interest in what she had been reading.

It was an article in the obituaries section about a homeless man, the same homeless man I had run into a couple nights before. Only this time he looked a lot more cleaned up, like the picture had been taken a long while back. The description read "Ex-veteran *name exempt* found dead outside *name of company excluded*. Police reported likely cause of death to be suicide."

Reading this information caused a lump to form in my throat. It wasn't because I was having flashbacks to the night of the encounter. It wasn't because he was so close to committing his own suicide when I encountered him.

It was because he partially looked like me.

It was because he had my last name.


 * End of story*

I'm not sure if my updates were enough to fix all the problems you two listed. Please let me know which ones I fixed, whether or not you think it's good enough for the site, as well as any titles you two may think fit.