Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29447668-20161018012830/@comment-28266772-20161019152415

 The noise down front jolted me from my uneasy slumber. My neck ached as I sat up and looked around the 93 morning bus. My worst fears were confirmed – the bus had stopped, and I would be late to work. The boss had told me I would be put on corrective action if I was late one more time. Corrective action meant being written up, and from there, being fired. Being fired meant a resume [resumé] gap, which meant I could not get another job. My rent would not be paid, and I would be evicted, joining the other homeless people on the street to face the pity and contempt of the respectable populace – those who earned their right to live in society. I had grown up homeless, living in disgrace in the shelter because of my shiftless father. I would not be taken down again by some no-account lowlife.

 My hands began to shake and the silver bracelets on my arm jingled. My throat tightened and I began to choke with terror. I could not breathe. Then I began to hyperventilate.

 The cause of the trouble was down front. Two stupid guys had boarded the bus without paying and the driver had called them back to pay the fare.

'' Please, dear God, let them pay the fare so we can be on our way. I don’t want to be fired. ''

 Of course, the troublemakers chose to argue and curse, not even bothering to speak proper English.

  “I don’ gotta pay no goddam fare for no goddam ride, muthafucka,” said one.

 “Sir, you have to pay the fare. It’s $1.75,” said the poor driver, who surely had had enough of these thugs already.

 The other young man was on his phone, yelling something about his baby momma’s car. He also paid no attention to the driver’s pleas to pay the fare.

 The bus was still stalled. I looked at my watch. If I resolved the matter, I could still get to work on time. If God looked upon me favorably, maybe I could even go to the bathroom before work. I was the only one who was paying any attention to the trouble down front. Every last one of my fellow passengers was playing with their phone, reading the newspaper, or fast asleep. It was up to me.

 I stood up and went down front. My race, appearance, gender, and age meant the young men would not see me as a threat. My purse was neatly slung across my body. My right hand was in my purse, as if I were fishing for change to pay the fare for the young men.

 I crept up behind the worst offender, the one who was polluting the air with his foul language. With one swift motion, I raised my right arm, stabbing him in the neck with my nail scissors. My aim was true. The young man had cursed his last curse [clunky]. His body fell lifeless on the floor of the bus. Luckily, I jumped back just in time to keep the pool of blood from splattering my person or clothing. I didn’t even get any blood on my pumps.

 I smiled, rejoicing in the peace and quiet. Then I remembered the other young man. He looked at me, said “oh shit” [said, *new line* “Oh shit,”] and jumped off the bus.

 I smiled again, for that meant I didn’t have to use my nail file in his eye.

 “OK, sir, we can go now. I took care of the problem,” I told the driver.

 Why did the driver start screaming? We were all set to go and be on time for work.

 -

<p class="MsoNormal"> Huh…

<p class="MsoNormal"> Mechanical issues - mechanically I can’t find any repeating/problematic errors. You seem to have fixed up most of the issues that Empy picked out.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Style issues – First, you didn’t need to eliminate all the Bible references. Empy just meant you shouldn’t have had them repeating as often as you did; as it was I enjoyed the references made. Second, the descriptive passages are relatively okay although you really should use the first person narrative to bring us into the protagonist’s head more effectively. As it is I’m left with the distinct impression of a total asshole who throws a tantrum for no reason whatsoever. Any attempt to make the character sympathetic, or even have us take on their point of view isn’t really present; specifically, there’s a distinct lack of emotive language.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Third, the use of language to characterise the thugs is pretty transparent. You make one reference to race so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this one—maybe the thugs were white, maybe the protagonist was black—but be aware that the language isn’t very subtle and could be interpreted poorly. You may need more work to bring attention to the nature of the protagonist. Specifically, I’m left with two questions. Are we meant to sympathise with the protagonist? Or malign them?

<p class="MsoNormal"> Plot issues – I’ve already covered this by describing the dissonance between how you present the world, and the character’s disproportionate response to the obstacle. Nonetheless the point remains present in content and not just style; the character’s actions don’t fit the situation and you give us no way to ratify their behaviour in a meaningful or satisfactory way. You could solve this by immersing us into the mind of a clearly broken and irrational human using stylistic language, or you could use the sequence of events to demonstrate that same irrationality. I feel a tinge of the latter near the end when the character wonders why the driver is screaming but it’s not enough.