This is only a segment of the story I have written, hope you enjoy it and leave some helpful feedback! Thanks...
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It happened on Tuesday evening. Around six oíclock. It was so deafening that it shock the slumbering city. It rocked it around the foundations, it shocked all the buildings, big and small, it swayed itself around the inhabitants, and worst of all, it was in our house. I closed my eyes to the sight. It was horrible. I thought I could see flames flying past my face, laughing. I thought I could see walls and doors shattering before my eyes, screaming. I thought I could see my Dad, standing, shouting. But, really, I saw none of this. It happened to quickly for there to be any and pain. It happened to swiftly for there to be any wreckage, dust and rubble. And as soon as it happened, my Dad was already gone. Dead, finished, but I could still see him. Imagine what its like for me, seeing him disappear in front of me forever, it seemed as though he, and the whole world, were going to hell.
My Mother was away in Europe at the time, was she going to return? Was this all an accident? No, I knew, this was no accident. But why, why us? Was there something I didnít know? If there was I suppose I will never know.
It was some sort of explosive, homemade, set to go off just as the new day began. To go off, ending the day before it had started. Clutching life by the neck and twisting. Falling into blackness. It didnít take my life. For I was not worth it. I was just a boy. But not anymore, now Iím a man. A man with no money, no life, no meaning, no happiness, but a man. I am happy to be a man even if I am a suffering man. At least I survived.
Many people in the world are cruel. They do care, but only about themselves, their money, and there clothes. They do not care about others; they walk past thinking that anybody who wasnít them was a lower level, a lesser, pathetic . I was nearly one of those people. In a way I am. I steal, I scurry around, I look people nastily in the eye. I wouldnít do if it werenít for what had happened.
I hate everyone, everyone, except my dog. I am Marcus Jones and my life has been taken over by an explosion. An explosion that happened forty years ago, but it still seems like merely hours ago. I live in a town. I am not sure where. Maybe England, maybe not. Because you see, forty years ago the world erupted inside my house and so did my trust, I lost my home, my Dad and, even though I am alive, my life. I stowed away on a ferry and now I have no idea where I am. But now I know where I was, forty years ago. And Iím about to tell you the story that happened so far in the past, but yet so soon in the memory. I was just ten years old. If you are ten years old then you know what it feels like. But you have no idea, no idea at all, what it felt like after that Tuesday night. You have know idea what its like to be a ten year old boy. Alone.