Jacob glared at his grandfather, hardly able to control his ranging anger.  His dark hair hung loosely around his clenched and hardened face, dancing in his eyesight.  His lip curled in anger, his grandfather Martin was radically strict.

      “Why?” Jacob asked between clenched teeth, his voice wavering on the brink of an outburst.

      Martin replied coolly, “I now what you did last time you went down to the village.  I won’t have you drunk again.  You’re just a boy, and yet shot one of the villager’s horses.”

      Jacob’s face crunched up.  “Don’t call me a boy.  I am eighteen, old enough to leave this wretched place.  Besides, it wasn’t just me.”

      His grandfather remained his set tone of voice.  “You are still young and have much to learn before you do anything on your own.  I am responsible for you since your parents died, and I will not let you go because of your foolish thoughts.  You were with the boys who shot the horse-”

      “Don’t say anything about them!”  Interrupted Jacob flooding his anger.  “This isn’t about them, it wasn’t me who shot the horse!”

      “Aye, but you gave my gun to them, to have a little sport.”  Countered Martin.

      Jacob stomped his boot against the oak floor, flinging himself out of the seat and crashing out the back door to chop wood.  Martin, his grandfather, sighed despairingly, shaking and rubbing his head.  His old, yet strong frame bent over the fireplace heavier.  It was always cold in the Alps, and the winter of 1777 was no exception.

      When night drifted closer, the meal was warmed physically yet remained icy; the tension rising between Jacob and his grandfather.  They said nothing and gulped down the soup as silent as dead men.  Even as Jacob lay in his bed he reviewed the heated argument with his grandfather, he remembered it as if it was happening as he thought.  What’s the problem with going down to the village, being with friends and having a little fun?  I paid the villager back for his horse.  He paused in his thoughts.  “I’m an adult,” he said in a whisper to himself, “I shouldn’t be bullied like a child by an old man who’s loosing his mind!”

      He ground his teeth.  But slowly he loosened them as his mind wandered to other things.  He slowly sat up in his bed and grabbed his boots.  Taking tentative barefooted steps, Jacob crept out his tiny quarters into the main room of the cabin.  He passed the smoldering fire, where three chairs sat, and slipped on his coat and slid open the door.  A gust of wind blew in carrying snowflakes with it.  He dashed out, quietly slipping his boots on, quickly plodding forward into the deep drifts of snow.

      A sliver of the European moon shined dimly, high up in the inky star filled sky.  Wind tore at Jacob and snow caked his body like the rainy season’s mud, yet also numbing his exposed hands and face.  He tugged his coat closer, but it did little to no good and the freezing cold air swept in.  Thirty minutes passed as Jacob tramped on through the tall pine trees.  But Jacob became uneasy as a thick blizzard settled on the peaks of the mountain.  The wet, dreary feeling he should have reached the village settled on him like an army besieging a castle.

      His heart quickened, he spun in circles, looking back to where he had come from.  The tracks led back a several yards, he quickly began to struggle for them, slipping and landing in the knee deep snow.  His face seemingly burnt in the burial of the white powder.  He staggered up, sinking in the snow ever more.  At last, he stood, but the tracks, put down only moments before, we hidden in the blinding white sea.

       Jacob turned to his left in panic to a low wall of rocks dimly seeable through the weather.  However, in the blinding flurry of snow he could not climb pile of rocks, therefore he stumbled away, defeated and worried, down another possible path.

      Within moments, Jacob could no longer see the hand in front of him, the darkness combined with the blizzard made him unsure of anything, and making matters worse, the moon slipped behind a cloud, and what little reflection that came from the glistening snow was shot dead.

      He gasped, sliding deep into the mounting three foot snow covering.  Jacob lifted himself up feebly and began trudging in any direction he could find passable.  His boot caught on an object, beckoning him to cease his point less staggering.  The lad of eighteen heeded the call and sat down, feeling the tear running down his numb cheek turn to ice.  “What have I done!”  Another burst of tears followed and he fell limp to the ground.

Martin sat up in his bed.  He heard the door open, with a gust of wind and snow, then finally close.  Sudden realization struck him.  “Jacob,”  he muttered.  Dashing around the house Martin got ready to go out, but it was ten minutes later before he set foot outside his door and into the windy Alps.  Snow beat upon him as he tried desperately to find Jacob’s trail.  He would sacrifice his own life if he could find Jacob, they were family, but that was the least he could say.  Jacob couldn’t care less for him, however Martin couldn’t care more for Jacob.

      The weather began to become more severe as Martin searched.  “Jacob . . . Jacob . . . Where are you!?”  shouted Martin.  The only response was a howl.

A young wolf skittered across a cliff ridge lined with pines.  Behind and in front of him were four or five of the other gray furred animals.  Their fur protected them from the harsh bite of the cold.  The bouncing of their gray manes increased as the scent became stronger.  One or two wolves howled as they ran, the echo ricocheting around the valley.

      The young wolf was hungry for easy prey.  The whole pack had been hard pressed for food in the recent months, these were also the very coldest months of the year.  At last the young wolf smelled the scent of a man.  As they came closer they could tell that he was near death.

      The pack of wolves reached a twenty foot drop into a bunch of trees.  They all leaped down and scrounged around until they found the dying man.  But as they padded towards the man a shout came from behind and an old gray bearded man leaped out from behind a pine with a walking stick.  The wolves turned towards him and several pounced.

      Or at least they thought they did.  The old man had dodged far quicker than they had expected.  The pack leader, the largest of the wolves and with a huge gray and black mane, leaped at the old man.  The old man ducked and swung his stick upwards, crashing it against the wolfs chest.

      The wolf yelped and sprung back.  The old man threatened to attack another wolf and it began to withdraw.  Seeing that his tactics were working, the old man made threatening moves toward each of the wolves.  They all began to withdraw without a fight.  But then the young wolf leaped from behind the old man.  It had crept around him when he was not watching.

      The claws of the wolf dug into the old mans back and the bite of the wolfs teeth sunk into his right shoulder.  The old man fell on his back, with the wolf underneath him.  With his left hand the man grasped his stick that had left his hand as the wolf bit into his shoulder.  Then he swung the stick around and it came crashing down on the wolf’s head.

      The young wolf yelped and let go, its snout bleeding profusely, and staining the white glistening snow red.  The trounced young wolf struggled back into the dark woods to follow its pack away from the old fighter.

      As soon as the danger of wolves was gone the old man hustled over to the limp body in the snow.  He lifted the body and slowly trudged back toward where he had come.  Tracing his foot prints that were already being covered up by snow.

Jacob slowly opened his eyes.  He heard the crackling of the fire outside the small room e was in and the footsteps outside his door.  An old man was revealed to Jacob as the door swung open.  Jacob found that a slight smile appeared on his face.  Martin was standing there.  “You saved me didn’t you?”  asked Jacob.

      Martin nodded.

      “How?” asked Jacob.

      “I saw a pack of wolves, I suspected they were following your trail.  Recently they seem to have been going after even live humans.  And I was right that they were following you.  It has saved your life.”

      Jacob smiled.  “I know,”  Jacob paused and sighed.  “Please forgive me, I now see that you have always been trying to care for me.”

General J.S.
5/25/2013 01:09:12 pm

#1 sentence: did you mean raging anger?

#3 paragraph: I NOW what you did . . .
#3 paragraph: and YET shot one of . . .

#6 paragraph: Interrupted Jacob flooding his anger? THAT SENTENCE SOUNDS A LITTLE STRANGE.

#9 paragraph: the soup as SILENT[?] as dead men. THE SENTENCE AFTER THAT SOUNDS A LITTLE STRANGE.

#10 paragraph: crept out [OF?] his tiny quarters . . .

#11 paragraph: of the European moon SHINED[? or would it be SHONE?] . . . high up in the inky[,] star[-]filled sky . . . wet, dreary feeling [that] he . . .

#12 paragraph: the tracks led back A several . . . WE hidden in the blinding . . .

#14 paragraph: I REALLY LIKE HOW YOU WROTE "WAS shot DEAD" -- IT'S A GREAT ANALOGY!

#15 paragraph: to cease his POINT LESS staggering.

#17 paragraph: I THINK ONE USUALLY IS "SUPPOSED" TO WRITE THIS -- "!?" -- LIKE THIS -- "?!".

#21 paragraph: crashing it against the WOLFS chest.

#23 paragraph: YOU HAVE TWO WORDS WITHOUT AN APOSTROPHE FOR POSSESIVES.

I WILL FINISH TOMORROW!

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General J.S.
5/25/2013 11:07:35 pm

#4 to last paragraph: the small room E was in and . . . "You saved me[,] didn't you?" . . .

THAT IS THE LAST "QUESTIONABLE"! IN BOTH OF THESE COMMENTS, I MENTIONED ERRORS AND OTHER THINGS. I HOPE THEY HELP. BY THE WAY, I THINK YOU SHOULD TRY USING MORE DASHES (-) AND SEMICOLONS (;) IN YOUR WRITING -- OTHERWISE IT APPEARS SOMEWHAT STRANGE WITH ONLY COMMAS.

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The WordWeaver
5/26/2013 08:18:54 am

Thanks for the grammatical advice (I wrote this a long time ago, and my grammar has improved since then), but what did you think of the actual story? I think that the story matters far more than whether it's grammatically correct.

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General J.S.
5/27/2013 06:09:16 am

You are welcome for the advice. I think Second Chance is a great story. I like how you describe the characters.

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Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo
6/9/2013 07:55:56 am

It's awesome! It's great! I love it! :D Do more!

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