constructive criticism on my writing?

The leaves on the forest floor made a crunching noise as I ran. Through the trees and bushes, past the stream, trying not to trip over any branches strewn across the forest floor. I don’t know whether I was running toward something or someone, or whether I was being chased. Either way, I couldn’t stop running. I was going in circles for what seemed like forever until I finally found who I think I was looking for. In the middle of the forest there was a small clearing in the shape of a circle. There was a little bench right in the middle of the clearing and sitting on it was my father. Now this was very unusual, considering my father passed away when I was four years old. From afar, his face looked the same, but as I walked closer I realized that he had aged a great deal. Wrinkles had invaded his once perfectly smooth skin. His eyes, once a clear sapphire blue, were now a faded steel blue, almost gray, and permanently tired. When he saw me approach him, he looked very shocked. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly snapped it shut. He stared silently at me for a couple of minutes, and then started making odd motions with hands and mouthing words. And then I realized that he couldn’t talk. My dad died of throat cancer and wasn’t able to speak right before he passed on. I watched intently, trying to decipher what he meant. I thought I saw him mouth the word “help” but wasn’t sure. Before I had a chance to ask him, there was a loud, ear piercing scream. Someone was screaming, probably in pain, over and over again. I winced and covered my ears. So did he. Who was screaming, and why? I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned away from my father and ran. I tried to run from the noise, but the farther I ran, the more prominent it became. I ran past the stream, past the bushes and trees, out of the forest and back to my house. When I got there I went straight to my room only to find my father there, sitting on my bed. “Help me,” he choked out, “please help!” I sat up in bed, my heart pounding and forehead sweating. Calm down, Sophie, calm down. It was only a dream. I looked at the clock on my nightstand, it read four thirty. I lay there in bed trying to figure out what my dream meant, since I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. I was afraid that after I closed my eyes the same dream would invade my head and frighten me even more. What does that dream have to do with anything? Dad died almost nine years ago. Why was I in the forest and why did he need my help? I couldn’t figure it out. And then it hit me. Dad passed away on March 18, and that was today. Could that possibly have something to do with my dream? That he died exactly nine years ago? I sighed and rolled over in bed. As much as I wanted to stay awake, I just couldn’t. I closed my tired eyes and slipped into unconsciousness. “Sweet heart, time to get up. Come on Sophie, get out of bed now. Please,” my mother said in as kind of a tone as she could manage. My alarm for school rang fifteen minutes ago, and when my mom noticed I wasn’t up she came into my room. Mom bent over and shook me a little bit. “Sophie Rae Clearpinte, get up now! When you‘re late and you miss the bus, I‘m not driving you to school,” she threatened. I groaned and rolled over, almost falling out of bed. “Okay, I‘m up now, happy?” I said with an unnecessary attitude. This morning I didn’t care whether I had an attitude or not. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, and that dream was really bothering me. The forest looked so familiar, as if I had been there before. And my dad looked so real, almost exactly the same as the last time I saw him, nine years ago. I picked out my outfit and dragged myself into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and got on my clothes, a bright pink shirt with a silver peace sign in the center and skinny jeans. I plugged in the straightening iron and started to straighten my hair. I tried unsuccessfully to think about something other than my dream, burning my hand in the process. “Sophie, the bus is going to be here in three minutes. Get your butt downstairs!” Mom yelled from the kitchen. I wasn’t having a good day so far, and my mom wasn’t making it any better. “I‘m coming!” I hollered. I grabbed my backpack and purse and practically flew downstairs. When I skidded to a stop in the kitchen, my mom gave me a dirty look and handed me a pop tart to eat on the bus. I hastily threw on my Nike sneakers and black Hollister sweat jacket. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and left the house, slamming the door behind me. It was a chilly morning in March, my hair and the leaves fluttering in the wind. Then I heard a door slam and my neighbor, who also happens to be my worst enemy, appeared by my side. “Hi Sophie! How are you this morning? Oh, you don‘t look so good. Did you sleep at all last night?” Kaci asked innocently. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was pretending to be concerned, but what else was ne sry its really long and if there r any errors... part of the story was cut of.. if any1 wants the rest tell me and ill post it.

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5 Comments: Trackback URL | Comments RSS

  1. JeanYo Says:

    I think that it got cut off at the end, but so far, it’s pretty good!

  2. Kaileen Says:

    i want to read more!

  3. Live Laugh & Love Says:

    It’s okay, it was worth the long read. It’s really good! I did not see any errors, but I don’t care, that doesn’t bother me when I am really into reading something like I just was. It’s sad about her dream, and I think that this will be really interesting. I hope that you will continue more, maybe if its ever at a store, I’ll buy it so I can read more after ,but what else was ne- :) Good luck!

  4. choochoo Says:

    NO errors that I can see,you really got me interested in the story,you also threw in some things of the modern time so you can tell what time it is set in.Overall I liked it.I write somewhat to and I think you did a really good job.

  5. Chanda Lynn *mommy to be* Says:

    it was good but i can tell by your writing style you are younger. you place a lot of emphasis on describing the clothing. thats not really a necessary detail in the story, and just a bit excess.

    it was good considering you are younger, just keep writing. your stories will improve with time and practice.

    this story is full of frivolous details that can be taken out. the mother also goes from sweet to angry really fast with no details in between and makes it seem a little unrealistic. she could go downstairs and then come back up and threaten her, but she coaxes and threatens her all in a period of 10 seconds.

    I picked out my outfit and dragged myself into the bathroom.-
    everything after this sentence is just full of unnecessary minor details and makes it a bit amateurish. this is when i kind of lost interest.

    sorry, just my honest opinion. i liked the first part tho. it was really well written.

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