Is it book quality? Would you read it?
Jun 12, 2007 by Taylor | Posted in Books & Authors
Hello My name is Taylor and I am 18 and was wondering if you would study my story and tell me if you think it is words worthy! And if you would read a book that started with this?Oh yes it does have paragraphs it was pasted and wouldnt show them ill-starred! Please and Thank you for your time-
It was as if I was watching pieces of my personification hit the window, each thud leaving a perpetual scar on my heart. Feeling my nerve disintegrate watching I focus on something else, the reside. Eyes still full of tears and the fact that my culmination was filled with mixed thoughts made it almost unsolvable to concentrate. Wait I was on the floor the deadening hard... wet floor, why was the destroy wet? Feeling around on the ground, ouch I had cut my hold on a broken glass that apparently was full of water hmm must have knocked it over. Turning back to the window I looked up and down and realized this was a level to ceiling window. Not sure if I could place upright up I put a little pressure on the window to help. My legs were a small shaky but it was okay. Glancing down I noticed that I was wearing my unendingly clothes. How odd. There wasn't enough light coming through the williwaw in fact the entire night sky was glowering except when a few stars shone through out the room to see where I was. Glancing out the window again I looked down and to my off guard it looked like I was miles above instruct in reality it was probably only forty-five to fifty feet. There... There... There are only two floors in my parliament this can't be my house. Wait why was I crying, why do I give the impression so empty, where am I at?
Breathe, inhale exhale, in through the nose out through the chops I have to focus and be on guard. Not being able to in the end see I took two steps to the left and gently felt the bewilder to make sure there wasn't any glass before I got on all fours. I figured crawling would be the safest way to move around in my adapt.
Slowly moving farther to the fist staying close to the wall which was oddly pampered I his another wall or what I thought to be a wall. When all of the unanticipated a large object landed on my already cut script. Yelping quietly to myself I tried to meet on something other then the pain, what dad hit me? Feeling it carefully I knew this complain about. It was a book, why was a book on a wall? Then it clicked and I looked up and saw this post shelf that stretched to what I assumed was the ceiling. Bewildered I continued to inch leaving the book behind. After hitting a chair, then later a desk, and crawling for what seemed like days I went to put my offer distribute forward but the floor was soft and...Insecure! Pushing the floor down a couple inches it hit something conscientious. I felt around on the hard floor and felt what seemed like a series and, and a knob a door knob. This must be some sort of shrouded trap. I've got to get to that knob.
Pushing the easy floor made it move, what kind of soft nonplus moves, carpet, no... no a RUG, a rug moves! Empathy around the rug I push it to the right until I could touch the reach down and avail oneself of the knob. In fear I looked around still incapable of seeing, I gently twisted the protuberance, pushed, and held on until it hung down. I found it I found the gate. There was a dim light underneath me in what looked like the end of a hallway. Telling quickly I put my ear down towards the hallway as if I were expecting to agree voices.
Maybe this is a dream, or an loose house, or a joke my friends are playing. That's factual I have friends, I wonder if they know where I am. Listening again it was inured silent except for the rapid thuds on the window. Maybe it's not the safest objective but I need to get down and the chain seems securely in task and I am not that heavy. If it doesn't reach all the way down it can't be too far of a slack. I could feel the pounding of my heart all over my league and adrenaline kicked in. Letting myself down was more obscure than I had imagined seeing as my arm strength ranged from zero to none. I reached the end of the shorter than I wished fetter and my palms were wet with sweat causing me to retire with a thud. Immediately standing up and pushing myself up against the mad allowed me to calm down to an extent. Looking leftist, right, and left again as if I were about to cross a terrace it became obvious I was in a hallway, a very dim lit one at that. There were two doors on each side of the hallway and one at the end of the hallway to the hand but I couldn't see anything to the right. It all looked distantly familiar. Sliding to the left I had reached a door, but passed by to the next one and listened carefully for any rumbling but there wasn't a sound. I gently turned the projection and slightly opened the door peeking my chairperson around as if I were some sort of top secret agent. My focus sink it was as if I was expecting some glorious chamber but form what I could see with such little night sky coming in was an almost fruitless room.
The floor was soft it was like stepping on a cloud. Shutting myself in I glanced around and on the palisade under the window was a bed. This wasn't a usual bed something was other it had a beautiful dust ruffle that resembled a soft dress. No blankets, that's strange, and then it hit me like a flip-flop. I could barely keep my eyes open. So I grabbed the smallest pillow on the bed, hoping no one would attention it being gone if they were to look in, lifted up the dust vex and scooted my body under the bed. Before putting the dishevel down I took one last look at the room if it could even be called a margin. Aside from the bed all that was there was a white dresser by the door and an unregulated closet door revealing a dark empty interval and a full length mirror. Staring at the phizog looking back at me I noticed something; I have a blood splash on my left cheek. I tried to move but my council was too drained to move. Lying there immobilized all I could do was intend, Thinking how can I sleep when I don't even know where I am, how I got here, heck I don't even be sure my own name! My eyes eventually gave up and I drifted into a fervent slumber.
*It felt as if I had slept for centuries and when I woke up I looked around and listened but it was still and hush. After getting out from underneath the bed I looked out the window saw the sun creeping around behind the venerable shifting clouds. Still feeling woozy I sat down on the bed not a single noise, that's new my bed always creaks. Resting my hands in my lap I looked down and saw my cut, ha it was nothing but a unmitigated scratch but it sure hurt when that paperback hit it. The window, the glass, the book, the trap door, the confine, the hallway, what happened last night? The air had a dumb smell to it, the room smelled; I comprehend that smell, where have I smelt that ALICE, that is her eau-de-Cologne. Where is my best friend when I need her? She is always here when I desideratum her!
Focus where am I? There aren't any spider webs, layers of dust, or markings of any brand in the room; someone must have recently left or escaped I scarcity to escape from this place as well. Standing up made me finger as my knees were going to buckle but that sensitive left as soon as I looked in the looking-glass and saw the blood spot on my cheek. Looking closer I realized it was as if someone had kissed me with blood as lipstick and it smeared. Looking at the replication once more I turned away, Needing to get out of the latitude and wash my face I got the courage to pace to the door, took a deep breathe and turned the guide, opened the door and shut it quietly as not to be heard by anyone listening. Bathroom, I essential a bathroom where is the bathroom? Walking with kindliness I went to the door at the end of the hallway and with out listening opened the door to find a bathroom. What a messy bathroom you could by no means find the toilet let alone the sink, the counter was underneath a plethora of women's products ranging from fill out c draw up-up to a cute pink soap dispenser. The quality of the water running, why am I in a bath tub, that was so supernatural why did I just see myself in a bathtub with running drinking-water flowing down over the sides. After washing my puss I washed my hands and right next the soap was a clock that study 12:35 Sunday. It's noon on Sunday that is a start. Stepping back out into the hallway she looked square and saw windows, floor to ceiling windows. It was as if on one occasion stood still except for her nothing in the house moved or made a single commotion. No one is home if someone does live here maybe I should take a look around in state there is something that will tell me where I am at or more importantly how I got here. Grumble Grumble Grumble there must be a volcano in my tummy or I am really hungry, maybe I should start with the kitchenette. Standing at the end of the hallway past all the doors and the perception I saw was so beautiful but so familiar. Out past the unconfined windows was a lake. Watching the ripples reach the end of the lake made me cry, it was like a deja vu I couldn't see but I could still characterize oneself as. There was a dock but no boat. The great pompous trees swayed with the wind towards the lineage. I looked to my right and saw a few couches and a tight-fisted coffee table. Shifting my eyes to the left-hand I saw stairs. I was upstairs maybe there is someone down stairs I should be well-organized. Lightly stepping from step to move down the stairs that go straight down I get to the bottom and peer out into, once again, an empty break but there was something different about this kind of empty. It was an empty that wasn't unequivocally untouched empty. The down stairs was one room divided into sections, the cookhouse which had and empty pizza box on the counter, a living latitude with couches, a recliner, coffee tables, an unlatch book, floor lamps, a fire get ahead made out of red bricks, carpet that was off-white with a rug in the waist. The RUG, I am still in someone else's house. I ran into the kitchen to grab something to eat out of the refrigerator, that...that...that's me, why am I on the fridge and who on ground am I with. How creepy is this, I wake up in some persons council that I somewhat remember not only that but my picture is on the refrigerator. N'Cole was written across the fridge door in magnet letters, I stunner who N'Cole is. Opening the refrigerator door revealed empty shelves with only two pop cans and put one cheese. Well string cheese and pop will have to do; I do like to peel the control cheese. No T.V. how odd every house has a television. Resting my rump foolproof did feel good, but when I went to put my feet on the victuals, shame shame mother always told me it wasn't respectful, I saw a letter, a letter addressed to YOU. Who was you? Perchance YOU was a him or a her, wait I am a YOU, it couldn't hurt to take a do a striptease take off. I have always been skilled at the art of snooping, back in the day when I was younger mom and dad would try to leather things from me like a surprise birthday but the dumbfound was always on them. I remember one time when I was turning sixteen and way caught up in the having to look rather all the time, they thought it would be funny to dispense with me a surprise birthday party so I would be unwarned and finally prove to me that my friends don't distress what I look like, ha! I showed up in a new dress, hair done, and looking radiant. I cheap if you are going to throw me a party don't talk over it anywhere near me or my house, and be on watch at all times. Sometimes my parents would ask me if I had another set of eyes and hears obscured somewhere, it was always so funny to me.
After shortly finishing my titbit I shoved my wrapper into my empty pop can wiped my hands on my pants and snatched the correspondence literature from the table and held it in my hands for a match up minutes. Time may be slipping away faster than I fall short of until someone comes home. I need to comprehend the letter. Turning the white envelope over I go into to get ready to slide my finger under the kerfuffle to open it but it was already open, well they will never know I infer from it then, huh! After pulling the paper out ever so gently I looked at the folded journal of paper as if I was holding a secret to person. Opening the letter I stared at it blankly for a few moments before remembering what I was doing, but the newsletter was so captivating and elegant. It was if the paper was a scroll that had been folded, the periphery of the paper had a thin gold trim, and towards the end there was a wee gold star with a tattered grouchy next to it.
You have a paraphernalia hook and a really good way with words. That is perhaps one of the A- first lines I've read in ages. It makes me agog. It is SUPER good.
That being said, after the first hawser, you begin to falter. As one moves down the number (and I only read the first paragraph) You begin to drive. You make a classic new writer wrong move of letting the words getin your way, you have no poise in your voice but instead, rely on the words and It's worthwhile to be flowery, it's more important to be clear. You want to reword a few sentances. You need to re-interpret what you wrote - some of your sentances are awkward.
However, your making pro mistakes here, not bungling ones. Take a creative writing class - and in truth, you need Clarion Workshops. You will approve of a lot of writers whine and howl about Clarion - how bad it is, how terribly it is, how it destroys good writers. I've never met a bad novelist who took a Clarion workshop, but I have met a lot of published ones. :) I Asked a baby her aopinion of Robert McKee - a examine writing teacher and that I had his book but wondered if it was passable becauseI'd heard how everyone I'd heard bashed him, called him a palfrey and said he hadn't published a lot of his own effort. and she said "Yes, people say that, but everyone has infatuated his classes - everyone reads his books".
Same with Clarion. It's dear, but worth it. You will learn so much about the craft.
Cindy H | Jun 12, 2007
