Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Would you please correct the mistakes in my tale?
The prime minister liked to walk in the forest. Before dawn, he would slink out of the back door of his residence and then squeeze through the gap in the fence, He had cut it himself just for this purpose years before and kept it secret. He revelled in those hours of loneliness when he could breathe in the scented air and indulge in the beauties of nature. Here, surrounded by lilies of the valley, lungworts, anemone and ferns, he was away from his irate and never satisfied wife, away from dozens of burly guards, away from the wicked media and other evil people who wished to see him fall. How he loved to go by the old oak and beech trees, stroll on the mossy ground, and kick chestnuts with his boots! High inflation, unemployment, cuts in social services, strikes, calls for his resignation, and dozens of other problems vanished as if by a miracle as soon as he entered this kingdom of serenity. Birdsong reminded him of the babbling of a brook in which he used to swim as a child, and a pheasant’s call sounded like a wheel of the bicycle he inherited after his grandfather’s death. The forest was his refuge and sanctuary. He felt protected and safe, just like a child returning to his mother.
He walked for a long time, deeper and deeper inside, engrossed in his thoughts. Soon there would be a general election, and he had to do something to improve the rating. The opposition parties were barking at his heels. They smelled the prey like bloodhounds and became ever wilder. If they believed they were going to defeat him, they could not be more wrong. Enemies surrounded him even in his own party, but he was going to outwit them all.
His father was spineless, but his grandfather was a great man. He taught him how to be successful in a dog-eat-dog world. When he was six years old, the grandfather took him with him to show him how to steal eggs from neighbouring chicken coops. “Why spend money buying something when you can get it for free?” the grandfather said as he was making an omelette from the eggs they have stolen that morning. Their neighbours noticed that someone was frequently nicking their eggs, but they suspected a weasel and laid traps, which of course never caught anything. The grandfather also showed him how to nick a wedge of expensive cheese, by shoving it quickly into his trouser pocket. Later, they ate it together with a bottle of fine French wine, which the grandfather nicked by fastening it with rubber bands on his leg. And who knew how many eggs, how many cheeses and bottles of wine the grandfather would have stolen, if death had not suddenly ended his glorious life. His passing left a massive void in the existence of the future prime minister. He promised himself to honour his memory by making a brilliant career.
Later when he became a politician, he remembered the words his grandfather instilled into him: never admit your faults, lie whenever you can, and tell everyone how much you love them. If you have enemies, make them your best friends by giving them money, and if they don’t accept, crush them with all might. When he grew up, he put every advice into practice and reaped the reward. By becoming the prime minister, he reached the pinnacle and then saw envy and bitterness around him emanating from those petty men, chained to their tables, living unfulfilled lives because they lacked courage and resolve. They hated him because he reminded them of their own misery and cowardice.
A bird’s cry jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked around but could not orient himself. The trees were tall and thick, blocking most of the sunlight. He walked in one direction, then another, and understood he was walking in a circle. He was angry at himself for not carrying a mobile phone with him. But he hated it, and despised people who walked around with the small object pressed to their ears, their heads tilted slightly, their blank eyes staring into the distance, their mouths working frantically to give information in the shortest possible time. But that despicable gadget would come in handy now. On the other hand, if his guards discovered what he was doing, that would mean the end of his lonely walks. They would overhaul security, change their routines, and make it impossible for him to slink out unnoticed.
TO BE CONTINUED
The prime minister liked to walk in the forest. Before dawn, he would slink out of the back door of his residence and then squeeze through the gap in the fence, He had cut it himself just for this purpose years before and kept it secret. He revelled in those hours of loneliness when he could breathe in the scented air and indulge in the beauties of nature. Here, surrounded by lilies of the valley, lungworts, anemone and ferns, he was away from his irate and never satisfied wife, away from dozens of burly guards, away from the wicked media and other evil people who wished to see him fall. How he loved to go by the old oak and beech trees, stroll on the mossy ground, and kick chestnuts with his boots! High inflation, unemployment, cuts in social services, strikes, calls for his resignation, and dozens of other problems vanished as if by a miracle as soon as he entered this kingdom of serenity. Birdsong reminded him of the babbling of a brook in which he used to swim as a child, and a pheasant’s call sounded like a wheel of the bicycle he inherited after his grandfather’s death. The forest was his refuge and sanctuary. He felt protected and safe, just like a child returning to his mother.
He walked for a long time, deeper and deeper inside, engrossed in his thoughts. Soon there would be a general election, and he had to do something to improve the rating. The opposition parties were barking at his heels. They smelled the prey like bloodhounds and became ever wilder. If they believed they were going to defeat him, they could not be more wrong. Enemies surrounded him even in his own party, but he was going to outwit them all.
His father was spineless, but his grandfather was a great man. He taught him how to be successful in a dog-eat-dog world. When he was six years old, the grandfather took him with him to show him how to steal eggs from neighbouring chicken coops. “Why spend money buying something when you can get it for free?” the grandfather said as he was making an omelette from the eggs they have stolen that morning. Their neighbours noticed that someone was frequently nicking their eggs, but they suspected a weasel and laid traps, which of course never caught anything. The grandfather also showed him how to nick a wedge of expensive cheese, by shoving it quickly into his trouser pocket. Later, they ate it together with a bottle of fine French wine, which the grandfather nicked by fastening it with rubber bands on his leg. And who knew how many eggs, how many cheeses and bottles of wine the grandfather would have stolen, if death had not suddenly ended his glorious life. His passing left a massive void in the existence of the future prime minister. He promised himself to honour his memory by making a brilliant career.
Later when he became a politician, he remembered the words his grandfather instilled into him: never admit your faults, lie whenever you can, and tell everyone how much you love them. If you have enemies, make them your best friends by giving them money, and if they don’t accept, crush them with all might. When he grew up, he put every advice into practice and reaped the reward. By becoming the prime minister, he reached the pinnacle and then saw envy and bitterness around him emanating from those petty men, chained to their tables, living unfulfilled lives because they lacked courage and resolve. They hated him because he reminded them of their own misery and cowardice.
A bird’s cry jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked around but could not orient himself. The trees were tall and thick, blocking most of the sunlight. He walked in one direction, then another, and understood he was walking in a circle. He was angry at himself for not carrying a mobile phone with him. But he hated it, and despised people who walked around with the small object pressed to their ears, their heads tilted slightly, their blank eyes staring into the distance, their mouths working frantically to give information in the shortest possible time. But that despicable gadget would come in handy now. On the other hand, if his guards discovered what he was doing, that would mean the end of his lonely walks. They would overhaul security, change their routines, and make it impossible for him to slink out unnoticed.
TO BE CONTINUED
