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I am writing this for a scholarship, please forward your corrections if any. Emotion: smile

I have encountered many horrid days in my lifetime, but i suppose it is true when said "The worse is yet to come..."
My father was a very abusive man, he wasn't a heavy drinker or into many drugs. He was just a hateful man. I guess losing it all
was what made him decide to change his ways, people always realize how to do right by others to late.
Since 1980 My mother had been either a stay at home mother or working, everything she did was with my fathers consent, i suppose she felt she had to discuss every aspect of her life to avoid conflict, or maybe she was needy for close friendships, although she worked in he psychological field with many disables persons,she really didn't have any friends who my father felt was trustworthy and so was made to abandon them all.
So in 2000 when she had been laid off from her work, and most desperatre for money to support her indolent husband and her three beautiful children, she took up a job at our local Wal*Mart where she befriended not one, but 2 lesbians and a gay man. Well, needless to say my father greatly admonished her for belonging to such a crowd, imagine, a 40 year old woman with friends (in essence that was all it was). Already feeling deeply isolated in this cave she had built for herself with much help from my father, she neglected to heed to his harsh words and tried very hard to helo my father come to the realization that these people were her friends, wether he liked them or not. She even went so far as to try to get my father to like them by inviting them over for dinner numerous times.
Along with sleeping in my mothers bed for hours on end and collecting other mistresses, my father had also liked to travel to his native island of Haiti, not having the money to pay for tickets, or anything else for that matter, the mortgage payment was often put on hold to respect his wished and let him leave for weeks, months even, without sending a hello to his family in Manchester, NH.
As forementioned, my father was very abusive, wanting so badly for his 3 children in america to be as submissive as his five in haiti, and not achieving what he so greatly desired often made him come to despise h is life in America, and not being able to leave made him despise us, therefore many nights he would come home straight from his other life in Auburn Mass. and beat us for whatever he thought fit, wether it be for not doing the dishes, leaving the door unlocked (so that he may enter peacefully) and for sometimes smiling at him. My mother, to scared to fight for us, had more than often let it happen without saying a word.
He would then after beating us, storm into my mothers room in a fit of rage exclaiming how we do not appreciate what he had given us, and how we should be made to forefiit all of our clothes, and belongings so that the more appreciative of his children could enjoy "the greatest that life had to offer" as he had so eloquently put it. He thankfully, never put that plan to action, I always thought it was because of my mother, putting forth more money to feed his hungry offspring.
When my sister came to her seventeenth year she had gotten pregnant and my father had coerced my mother to make her leave the house, there remained only me, my brother andmy mother in this hell on earth)
Going back to my mothers "disreputable" group of friends, my father had made it very clear that mother was not to associate with the homosexuals in America, because my father felt it would ruin his reputation in Haiti. Nonetheless my mother had felt accepted, happy, and found comfort with this group she had chosen so she ignored my fathers rants about her imputence.
In December of 2004, after a long trip to Haiti, (perhaps to create more offspring, and squander my mothers money) my father returned home furious declaring that he had hired a spy to watch my mother while he was in Haiti and he had proof of her cheating on him with this "lesbian friend" of hers on a secret rondevouz (that we all new about) The video/pictures that he had hired and paid an unspecified individual to take could not, infact be seen by anyone else but himself, because the spy had needed to sign forms releasing the footage that my father had already paid for.
Telling anyone who would listen that my mother was a cheating whore who ruined many long years of marriage for a woman, he proceded to exclaim that she was neglectful towards her children, complaining no one was never home to cook or to answer to his every whim. Now, at this time I was seventeen years old and my brother was thirteen, and I would be a dirty liar if i said that I, or my brother went to bed every night with an empty stomach and roaches all over our bedroom floors with no heat or hot water to shower with. As I said i was seventeen, I had aquired the skills needed (from my mother) to cook for a family and to clean for one. I felt my mother, with two jobs, worked hard enough, and should not have HAD to come home to two children and a husband to cook and clean for.
The climactic point of this situation arrived one cold night in December (December 8th). My father came home from being away for about 2 days,in that small amount of time my mother had arranged a get together with her friends, they went to see a movie, and had a great time from what I grasped.
Well, Imagine my fathers fury when he came home and to find not his wife in a miniskirt cooking his food and catering to his every desire, but two very content children watching TV and laughing with eachother. He called my mother and recieved no answer, to which he responded to by waiting outside for her return. She returned only a few minutes later and stepped out of her vehicle to a profound blow to her left eye, confounded that my father would ever place his hands on her she ran insided and preceded to beg me to stay calm ( i had a history of fighting my father back, reguardless of who he hit).She then checked her eye, which thankfully hadn't been injured badly with my fathers strike and her glasses, and rand to her bedroom and wept silently.
My father then stormed in after her and began screaming derogatory phrases to her to which i responded to by announcing his hypocrasy and denouncing his character as a father and human being.
The fight had begun.
Blow after blow we began swinging at eachother, my mother still weeping, tried to calm us down, my brother than interrupted by also striking my father for striking me, and than I struck my father for striking my brother. This brawl went on for about 5-10 minutes before my mother had separated us, but not before my father, who had never threatened death upon me, exclaimed that he was going to "bury me that night." My mother had asked us to remain silent in my bedroom, but i could not leae her with him, I left my room and waited silently at her door, and signaled to my brother to call the police, fearful for our lives, i carried a pair of shears, and my brother, a butcher knife, both of which the police took from us when they arrived.
My father was arrested that night, bailed out by morning, and is now, in essence gone from our lives. We talk maybe once every 3 monthe, and i am thankful that he is well.
By the next day my brother had gotten over what had happened the previous night and led his life as he usually did. My mother and i stayed deeply pained by this incident and worked at recovering. I do not know if she did or not but i haven't, I think of my father everyday and how he used to love us so much I wonder where it went, what i did wrong to make him despise me as he does, and i wish things would be as they were but it will not happen. We have pierced eachothers hearts much too deeply to ever feel right about eachother again.
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Comments  
Is there any reason why you state "Please read and judge Vocabulary only?" It's a very moving and poignant story, but there are some grammatical errors.
I was worried that some may focus on the stroy and not my errors and I really wanted to sort of "clean this up" a bit. I guess it wasn' t really necessary to ask to judge the vocab. only. Thank you very much Emotion: smile
Students: We have free audio pronunciation exercises.
I have encountered many horrid days in my lifetime, but i suppose it is true when said "The worse worst is yet to come..." My father was a very abusive man, he man. He wasn't a heavy drinker or into many drugs. He was just a hateful man. I guess losing it all was what made him decide to change his ways, ways; people always realize how to do right by others to too late.

Since 1980 My 1980, my mother had been either a stay-at-home mother or working, and everything she did was with my father's consent, i consent. I suppose she felt she had to discuss every aspect of her life to avoid conflict, or maybe she was needy for close friendships, although in need of close friendships. Although she worked in the psychological field with many disables disabled persons, she really didn't have any friends who my father felt was trustworthy and so was made to abandon them all.

So in 2000 when she had been laid off from her work, and most desperatre desperate for money to support her indolent husband and her three beautiful children, she took up a job at our local *** where she befriended not one, but 2 two lesbians and a gay man. Well, needless to say, my father greatly admonished her for belonging to such a crowd, imagine, crowd. Imagine, a 40-year-old woman with friends (in essence that was all it was). Already feeling deeply isolated in this cave she had built for herself with much help from my father, she neglected to take heed to of his harsh words and tried very hard to helo words. Instead, she tried very hard to convince my father to come to the realization that these people were her friends, wether he liked approved of them or not. She even went so far as to try to get my father to like them by inviting them over for dinner numerous times.

---------

Maybe someone else can pick up from here. MsLovely, you have other similar mistakes in the remainder of your composition, most of which I think you can correct by carefully going over your paper yourself. Good luck.
Thank you so so much Danyoo, I will make further corrections and repost asap. Thank you, once again. Have a lovely day/evening/night.
Along with sleeping in my mothers bed for hours on end and collecting other mistresses, my father had also liked to travel to his native island of Haiti, not having the money to pay for tickets, or anything else for that matter, the mortgage payment was often put on hold to respect his wishes and let him leave for weeks, months even, without sending a hello to his family in Manchester, NH.

As forementioned, my father was very abusive, wanting so badly for his 3 children in america to be as submissive as his five in Haiti, and not achieving what he so greatly desired, often made him come to despise his life in America. Not being able to leave made him despise us, therefore many nights he would come home straight from his other life in Auburn Mass. and beat us for whatever he thought fit, wether it be for not doing the dishes, leaving the door unlocked (so that he may enter peacefully) and for sometimes smiling at him. My mother, to scared to fight for us, had more than often let it happen without saying a word.
After beating us he would then storm into my mothers room in a fit of rage exclaiming how we do not appreciate what he had given us, and how we should be made to forefiit all of our clothes, and belongings so that the more appreciative of his children could enjoy "the greatest that life had to offer" as he had so eloquently put it. He thankfully, never put that plan to action, I always thought it was because of my mother, putting forth more money to feed his hungry offspring.? Needs re working to make it more clear.
When my sister came to (how about 'was in'?) her seventeenth year she had gotten pregnant and my father had coerced my mother to make her leave the house, there remained only me, my brother and my mother in this hell on earth)
Going back to my mothers "disreputable" group of friends, my father had made it very clear that mother was not to associate with the homosexuals in America, because my father felt it would ruin his reputation in Haiti. Nonetheless my mother had felt accepted, happy, and found comfort with this group she had chosen so she ignored my fathers rants about her imputence.

Well written, you had me reading all of it.
Now these are all the corrections I have time for. Can you yourself see the rest? Or do you want more help?
Try out our live chat room.
Robyn Terri, Thank you very very much, i have actually been working on this piece an I will repost it as soon as I am finished. I think alot of careless mistakes were made on my part. Thank you again Ms. Robyn
I have encountered many horrid days in my lifetime, but i suppose it is true when said, "The worst is yet to come..."
My father was a very abusive man. He wasn't a heavy drinker or into many drugs; he was just a hateful man. I guess losing it all was what made him decide to change his ways; people always realize how to do right by others too late.
Since 1980, my mother had been either a stay-at-home mother or working, and everything she did was with my father's consent. I suppose she felt she had to discuss every aspect of her life to avoid conflict, or maybe she was in need of close friendships. Although she worked in the psychological field with many disabled peeople, she really didn't have any friends who my father felt were trustworthy, and so was made to abandon them all.
Along with sleeping in my mothers bed for hours on end and collecting other mistresses, my father liked to travel to his native island of Haiti, and not
having the money to pay for tickets, or any other expenses, the mortgage payment was often put on hold to allow him to do so. He would leave for weeks, months
even, without sending a hello to his family in Manchester, NH.
As forementioned, my father was very abusive, wanting so badly for his three children in America to be as submissive as his five in Haiti, and not achieving what he so greatly desired often made him come to despise his life in America. Not being able to leave made him despise us, therefore many nights he would come home straight from his other life in Auburn, Massachusetts and beat us for whatever he thought fit, wether it be for not doing the dishes, leaving the door unlocked (so that he may enter peacefully) and for sometimes smiling at him. My mother, too scared to fight for us, had more than often let it happen without saying a word.
He would then storm into my mothers room in a fit of rage exclaiming how we do not appreciate what he had given us, and how we should be
made to forfeit all of our clothes and belongings so that his more appreciative children could enjoy "the greatest that life had to offer" as he had so eloquently put it. He thankfully never put that plan to action. I always thought it was because of my mother, putting forth more money to feed his hungry offspring in Haiti.
The climactic point of this situation arrived one cold night in December. My father came home from being away for about two days In that small amount of time my mother had arranged a get together with her friends. Well, Imagine my father's fury when he came home and to find not his wife in a miniskirt cooking his food and catering to his every desire, but two very content children watching TV and laughing with each other. He called my mother and recieved no answer, to which he responded to by waiting outside for her return. She returned only a few minutes later and stepped out of her vehicle to a profound blow to her left eye. Confounded that my father would ever place his hands on her she ran insided and preceded to beg me to stay calm ( I had a history of fighting my father back, regardless of who he hit). My father then stormed in after my mother and began screaming derogatory phrases to her, to which I responded to by announcing his hypocrasy and denouncing his character as a father and human being.
The fight had begun.
Blow after blow we began swinging at each other. My mother weeping, tried to calm us down. My brother then interrupted by also attacking my father.
This brawl went on for about 5-10 minutes before my mother had separated us, but not before my father, who had never threatened death upon me, exclaimed that he was going to "bury me that night."
My mother had asked us to remain silent in my bedroom, but I could not leave her with him, I left my room and waited silently at her door, and signaled to my brother to call the police, fearful for our lives. I carried a pair of shears, and my brother, a butcher knife, both of which the police took from us when they arrived.
My father was arrested that night, bailed out by morning, and is now, in essence, gone from our lives. We talk maybe once every 3 months, and i am thankful that he is well.
By the next day, my brother had gotten over what had happened the previous night and led his life as he usually did. My mother and I stayed deeply pained by this incident and worked at recovering. I do not know if she did or not, but I haven't. I think of my father everyday and how he used to love us so much I wonder where it went, what I did wrong to make him despise me as he did, and I wish things would be as they were, but it will not happen. We have pierced each others hearts much too deeply to ever feel right about each other again
MsLovely, here are my suggested corrections. This version has less errors than your original one. I think you are a very talented writer! Good luck.

I have encountered many horrid days in my lifetime, but i suppose but I suppose it is true when someone said, "The worst is yet to come..."
My father was a very abusive man. He wasn't a heavy drinker or into many drugs; he was just a hateful man. I guess losing it all was what made him decide to change his ways; people always realize how to do right by others too late.
Since 1980, my mother had been either a stay-at-home mother or working mother, and everything she did was with my father's consent. I suppose she felt she had to discuss every aspect of her life to avoid conflict, or maybe perhaps she was in need of close friendships. Although she worked in the psychological field with many disabled peeople people, she really didn't have any friends who my father felt were trustworthy, and so was and thus she was made to abandon them all.
Along with sleeping in my mothers bed for hours on end and collecting other mistresses, my father liked to travel to his native island of Haiti, and Haiti. And not
having the money to pay for tickets, or any other expenses, the mortgage payment was often put on hold to allow him to do so. He would leave for weeks, months
even, without sending a hello to his family in Manchester, NH.
As aforementioned, my father was very abusive, wanting so badly for his three children in America to be as submissive as his five in Haiti, and not achieving what he so greatly desired often made him come to despise his life in America. Not being able to leave made him despise us, therefore us in turn; therefore, many nights he would come home straight from his other life in Auburn, Massachusetts, and beat us for whatever he thought fit, whether it be for not doing the dishes, leaving the door unlocked (so that he may enter peacefully) and sometimes or sometimes just smiling at him. My mother, too scared to fight for us, had more than often times than not let it happen without saying a word.
He would then storm into my mother's room in a fit of rage exclaiming how we do not appreciate what he had given us, and how we should be
made to forfeit all of our clothes and belongings so that his more appreciative children could enjoy "the greatest that life had to offer" as he had so eloquently put it. He thankfully never put that plan to action. I always thought it was because of my mother, putting forth more who kept putting forth money to feed his hungry offspring in Haiti.
The climactic point of this situation arrived one cold night in December. My father came home from being away for about two days. In that small amount of time my mother had arranged a get-together with her friends. Well, imagine my father's fury when he came home and to find not his wife in a miniskirt cooking his food and catering to his every desire, but two very content children watching TV and laughing with each other. but could not find his wife in a miniskirt cooking his food and ready to cater to his every desire. Instead, he found two very content children watching TV and laughing with each other. He called my mother and recieved no answer, to which he responded to by waiting outside for her return. She returned only a few minutes later and stepped out of her vehicle to a profound blow to her left eye. Confounded Appalled that my father would ever place his hands on her she ran insided and preceded proceeded to beg me to stay calm ( I had a history of fighting my father back, regardless of who he hit). My father then stormed in after my mother and began screaming derogatory phrases to her, to which I responded to by announcing his hypocrasy and denouncing his character as a father and human being.
The fight had begun.
Blow after blow we began swinging at each other. My mother weeping, tried to calm us down. My brother then interrupted by also attacking my father.
This brawl went on for about 5-10 minutes before my mother had separated us, but not before my father, who had never threatened death upon me, exclaimed that he was going to "bury me that night."
My mother had asked us to remain silent in my bedroom, but I could not leave her with him, I left my room and waited silently at her door, and signaled to my brother to call the police, fearful for our lives. I carried a pair of shears, and my brother, a butcher knife, both of which the police took from us when they arrived.
My father was arrested that night, bailed out by morning, and is now, in essence, gone from our lives. We talk maybe once every 3 months, and I am thankful that he is well.
By the next day, my brother had gotten over what had happened the previous night and led his life as he usually did. My mother and I stayed deeply pained by this incident and worked at recovering. I do not know if she did or not, but I haven't. I think of my father everyday and how he used to love us so much. I wonder where it went, what I did wrong to make him despise me as he did, and I wish things would be as they were, but it will not happen. We Sadly, we have pierced each other's hearts much too deeply to ever feel right about each other again.
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