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Question by Butcher: Would You Buy This Book If You Saw It In The Store?
Sunday was my mother's favorite day, maybe because she had been born on the same day, or because it was Sunday, and like other Sundays – a day off. But there was something odd on this Sunday. I had never seen my mother working so hard. Her hands looked so fatigued that I was sure this cart of laundry was not the only one she had carried. The sweat drops that had appeared on her forehead flowed down along the creases of her arms while the second cart was being carried. My eyes could not watch her doing it all on her own
"Mom, are you sure you do not need any help?" I said, but my left hand already held the cart she had just lifted off the floor. I knew she needed my assistance; actually most of the times she had asked me to help her. She turned her head at me to meet my eyes and said regrettably
"No, Billy. It is fine; I am not as weak as you think. (cough) go out, play with your friends. I bet they are waiting for you outside"
Her light - brownish eyes accentuated the tears that were about to wash her face. I reached out to hold the cart as I noticed her tired hands shaking
" I told you, I DID NOT NEED YOUR HELP !" , she increased the volume of her voice that it sounded a way more threatening than before, and headed to the front door to dry the clothes . I was waiting next to the chair I had sat on, knowing it would not take a long time for her to call me. It had been almost two hours and thirty seven minutes. I was quite impressed, thinking maybe it was a special Sunday after all. I ran all the way up stairs to my room to make sure she is doing well. My body froze as I found out she had been sleeping the whole time. The laundry cart was dropped faced down on the grass, and the clothes she had put in it scattered around her body. I did not know whether to go out or stay in, but the way she was laying looked as if she had fallen. I went out through the window and climbed down the oak next to my house to get to her faster than I would have if I had gone out through the door. When I approached her, it took me a couple of minutes to understand what had happened.
"Mother, are you okay? Can you hear my voice?" She did not answer. I shook her head in an attempt to wake her up; her eyes were closed so I spread my fingers as far apart as I could to open them, nothing helped. I rolled her over the grass to move her to the bed, but as her head was moved from the place it had been, I noticed a blood stain in my father's military uniform. I put her body aside and touched the stain to examine it. It looked just like a ketchup sauce from where I stood. I stuck out my tongue to taste it, it was a blood. I tried to estimate how much blood she had been losing but the presence of my father's military uniform drew my attention. I called my father (Robert ) although I did not want to, because my father tended to make a drama out of nothing.
"Dad, it is Billy, try to come home as fast as you can, I will tell you everything later, bye"
I knew I should not have said it, but I also could not deal with everything. My dad came even faster than I had expected. He was so eager to know what had happened that he did not close the doors of his truck
"Billy, are you okay? What's happened?" My dad was too worried that I decided to tell it in a way that would not let him get another heart attack
" Mom is bleeding a bit, she will be fine, by the way, how did your military uniform get in the laundry?"
My dad ignored what I had asked and took her to the nearer hospital, and told me the truth because he knew he could not fob me off with the fake stories he had used to tell me.
"Billy, I will not be home in the next few weeks. I am a soldier, and my force is going to participate in a war soon. But I will be back as I always did! , I bet your mom could not take it and collapsed… but I know you are strong enough to keep standing on the ground, right?"
I had to agree with him, because I knew there was nothing I could say to make him stay. I did not know why my mother had not told me about it, on a second thought, maybe she had tried to keep it away from me by not letting me help her.
By the way, how is my English?
Best answer:
Answer by Boris
nope.
reason:
Badly Structured
Spelling is mediocre at best
nickname is butcher and you have people bleeding all over the place. uncool man!
Not really my thing to begin with anyway
Bad descriptors
Complete lack of detailed description.
I could go on I think but I am not in a thinking mood right now so this'll have to do
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