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My english Homework :S
As we pulled up in the drive, the place looked cheerful enough, a huge building situated in a polluted town, nothing amazing which is why they don’t get much business I expect, I was only here because I had been driving for almost 24 hours and I couldn’t spend another day without a rest.
The building was covered in chipped paint work, mud and what look like remains of egg from top to bottom with small gaps where there was small windows and a double door. I walked up to the door and knocked loudly on the door, it was answered almost immediately by an old woman carrying an old fur coat. Her face looked like it had been pushed towards the middle for decades and her few remaining teeth were black and rotted. Before I had time to turn away she shuffled me into the dark, damp hallway where there was an old reception desk with an even older man behind it doing nothing but waiting to die.
“How many nights?” He croaked weakly
“Urm… just a night?” I answered stunned
“Minimum stay is a week”
“Okay ill be on my way then” I said glad to have an excuse to get out of here
“Your rooms up the stairs on the left number 69, breakfast is at 8!”
“But…” Before I could say anything else he had passed me over the key and went into a silent sleep.
I climbed the creaky stairs into what looked like a drunk mans leftovers. The ‘bedrooms’ either side of the hallway stank of what smelt like a mixture of urine and sick, and all you could hear was snoring and shouting coming from the battered doors which had seen there day come and go around 60 times. The place screamed for it to be knocked down, but there was no such mercy.
I came to bedroom number 69, (or 96 as the numbers had been turned around) and dreaded what I would see behind the chipped door. What I saw wasn’t that bad. There were a few mysterious stains on the carpet and bed sheets but I could handle them, all I cared about was how comfy the bed was. I flew at it, lied there and fell instantly asleep.
When I woke up the next day it wasn’t peacefully, a huge bell coming from downstairs rang and rang until, one by one everyone was downstairs and ready for breakfast, a few still wearing blue fluffy dressing gowns, thinking there was a fire, stared around in puzzled astonishment. Others looking cheap and cheerful ready for a full day ahead of them. Don’t know what their looking forward to around here, nothing around except motorways and offices.
Needs an ending.. Just dont know how to
btw it needs a twist :p
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for a twist just come up with something no-one would expect and try making it funny :)
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Are you asking for advice or for someone to finish it off?
Lean towards the advice part lol.
Erm... what about start to talk about one person who stands out of the people. That person walks outside like a zombie crossing the road unaware of the oncoming traffic passing around him etc. etc.
Then build up tension somehow then kill him off :)
Sorry for my poor attempt.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by
Family Guy
As we pulled up in the drive, the place looked cheerful enough, a huge building situated in a polluted town, nothing amazing which is why they don’t get much business I expect, I was only there because I had been driving for almost 24 hours and I couldn’t spend another day without a rest.
The building was covered in chipped paint work, mud and what looked like remains of egg from top to bottom with small gaps where there were some *explain what's in the windows* small windows and a double door. I walked up to the door and knocked loudly on the door. It was answered almost immediately by an old woman carrying an old fur coat. Her face looked like it had been pushed towards the middle for decades and her few remaining teeth were black and rotted. Before I had time to turn away she shuffled me into the dark, damp hallway where there was an old reception desk with an even older man behind it doing nothing but waiting to die.
“How many nights?” He croaked weakly.
“Urm… just a night?” I answered stunned.
“Minimum stay is a week.”
“Okay ill be on my way then” I said, glad to have an excuse to get out of there
“Your room's up the stairs on the left number 69, breakfast is at 8!”
“But…” Before I could say anything else he had passed me over the key and had gone into a silent sleep.
I climbed the creaky stairs into what looked like a drunk man's leftovers. The ‘bedrooms’ either side of the * hallway stunk of what smelt like a mixture of urine and sick, and all you could hear was snoring and shouting coming from the battered doors which had seen there days come and go around 60 times. The place screamed for it to be knocked down, but there was no such mercy.
I came to bedroom number 69, (or 96 as the numbers had been turned around) and dreaded what I would see behind the chipped door. What I saw wasn’t that bad. There were a few mysterious stains on the carpet and bed sheets but I could handle them, all I cared about was how comfy the bed was. I flew at it, lay there and fell instantly asleep.
When I woke up the next day it wasn’t peaceful, for a huge bell coming from downstairs rang and rang until, one by one everyone *describe the people in more detail* was downstairs and ready for breakfast, a few still wearing blue fluffy dressing gowns, thinking there was a fire, stared around in puzzled astonishment. Others looking cheap and cheerful ready for a full day ahead of them. I didn't know what they were looking forward to around there, for nothing was around except motorways and offices.
It seems great so far. I have changed some grammatical errors with red text, and added red astericks (stars *)on where you could describe the scene more. :) Hope this helps.
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As we pulled up in the drive, the place looked cheerful enough, a huge building situated in a polluted town, nothing amazing which is why they don’t get much business I expect, I was only here because I had been driving for almost 24 hours and I couldn’t spend another day without a rest.
The building was covered in chipped paint work, mud and what look like remains of egg from top to bottom with small gaps where there were some curious people staring at the cars speeding along the street. I walked up to the door and knocked loudly on the door. It was answered almost immediately by an old woman carrying an old fur coat. Her face looked like it had been pushed towards the middle for decades and her few remaining teeth were black and rotted. Before I had time to turn away she shuffled me into the dark, damp hallway where there was an old reception desk with an even older man behind it doing nothing but waiting to die.
The old receptionist pointed me up the stairs and gave me a key for room number 69 I climbed the creaky stairs into what looked like a drunk mans leftovers. The ‘bedrooms’ either side of the hallway stunk of what smelt like a mixture of urine and sick, and all you could hear was snoring and shouting coming from the battered doors which had seen there days come and go around 60 times. The place screamed for it to be knocked down, but there was no such mercy.
I came to bedroom number 69, (or 96 as the numbers had been turned around) and dreaded what I would see behind the chipped door. What I saw wasn’t that bad. There were a few mysterious stains on the carpet and bed sheets but I could handle them, all I cared about was how comfy the bed was. I flew at it, lay there and fell instantly asleep.
When I woke up the next day it wasn’t peaceful, for a huge bell coming from downstairs rang and rang until, one by one everyone was downstairs and ready for breakfast, a few still wearing blue fluffy dressing gowns, thinking there was a fire, stared around in puzzled astonishment, a man with glasses and a small beard tripping down the stairs looking petrified and then angry when he saw why he had been awoken so rudely. Others looking cheap and cheerful ready for a full day ahead of them. I didn’t know what they where looking forward to around there for, nothing was around except motorways and offices. A breakfast of cereal, burnt toast and jam was laid out in front of me. After prodding the toast for a full five minutes and tasting the cereal and sour milk I decided to skip breakfast, I went up to get my things (no way was I going to stay another 4 days here) I found my room ‘unavailable’ because someone was cleaning it, according to an Italian towel boy, who wasn’t doing anything but smoking cigarettes and slumping in a corner, so I decided to take a trip outside to ‘see the sites’.
Wanting to be on my way already, annoyed by my early awakening and hungry after my ‘breakfast’ it had all left me a bit annoyed. So when I left the building I started swearing and shouting my head off. Some prat in a 260 Peugeot had skidded off the road swerving to avoid a mother and baby at a crossing had levelled his front bumper into the wall just two inches away from. I went over pulled the 20 something year old out of the wreckage and decided to make his hole face multicoloured.
Before I could hit him hard, police who had seen the crash ran over and pulled me off him, the kid continued spiting, cursing and swearing till the cows came home, I didn’t matter though, I had left my mark, his nose had been broken, and it looked like a black eye was forming. I was carted off to a police cell for the night, I couldn’t understand why the police where all looking at me and whispering discomfortingly.
“I guess well have too keep a closer eye on you” said the constable
I had absolutely no idea what he was on about. I stared at him puzzlingly for a while until the old people from the hotel came in and dragged me out of the police station (still handcuffed). They where whispering to, I was getting really annoyed at these people now, why where they taking me back to that crap hotel, where was there right.
I picked up a few words they where saying ‘third time this week’ ‘don’t worry hell go in one of our secure rooms’
The car drives into the place he is staying, the camera zooms out to show the sign above the door. It reads ‘lunatic Asylum and Mental Hospital’
^^^^^^
The finished product, not a very good twist but i think itll do :S
any1 reackon thats 800 words+?
EDIT: used wordcount 833 xD I have an essay
