What's your opinion on my story?

A sea of dark curls flow as I release the red cap from my head. Staring back at me in the mirror is a girl with porcelain skin, deep brown eyes, and thick curls formulating her eerie face. That girl isn't me. She couldn't be me. I never thought of her as me. The way her beauty looked back at me like a bullet just waiting to be loaded. So I kept staring. Waiting for the girl to come out. Waiting for her to kill me in an instant. But she wouldn't. She just stared back at me.


I stand in my dark bedroom trying to figuring something out. The grayness from outside my bedroom windows penetrates my bedroom, bringing in a depressing glow. My fingers is on the white Victorian dresser, tapping it excessively. I tap when I'm nervous. It drives people crazy, but I don't care. It's my coping mechanism. Especially since I won't be living in Kansas anymore. I'm going to be moving to some school in the Upper East called Preston.


When I first got the news that I was moving to Preston I wanted to scream. Not in a girly way that indicated you were happy. But in a way that made your skin crawl and blood curdle. Preston was not a school I wanted to go to. I heard about it at my old school Smithdale High. Abbey Gray told me it's a death sentence. I believe her. I've read reviews about the school online and most of them haven't been good. The school has a ten out of ten rating thanks to the state of New York, but people who are smart knows it's bad. People like me. Just looking at the tall school encrusted with stones and vines made your stomach lurch. The windows staring at me like eyes and the door jutting open like a mouth. It was waiting for me to come inside. And I was going to have to deal with it.


I turn back to the girl in the mirror and look at her once more. Her expression is emotionless and her eyes are wordless. I feel a cold shiver go down my spine as I touch the reflection. The glass is cold against my pale fingers and the surface of the mirror is hard as a rock. The girl does the same thing as I do. Her perfect fingers tracing the glass, her deep brown eyes still looking lifeless. There was something about her that wasn't happy. Sadness and emptiness tided her precious face. She was like a ghost. A ghost who was waiting to be properly buried knowing that it wasn't ever going to be buried properly.


';Juliet!'; I suddenly hear my mother call. ';Get your things and be ready! You're gonna miss the train.';


Oh, yeah. I had to take the train to New York. How old fashion. It makes me think of those old time movies where you have to ride on a train to get to a destination. I was actually looking forward to riding the train. I hadn't ridden on one before. The only time I saw a train was in the Harry Potter movies. I'm from Kansas so you don't see a lot of trains. Just vast openings and the sky that seems to touch the ground. I love Kansas. Kansas is my home and a place where I feel most comfortable with. I even love school. I get along more with the teachers because I'm smarter than the average student. I have an unusually high GPA that will stump Ivy League students. That's why my parents decided to enroll me at Preston. They felt that Smithdale was holding me back. If anything, Preston might hold me back. I don't know anyone at that school and I don't plan on it. I just want to sit in Mrs. Spelling's AP Literature class and take notes. Spelling isn't her real name, she just said it was to make her teaching job ironic. Her real last name is Abraham. I can see why she would want to change it.


I like Mrs. Spelling. She's an older woman about in her early sixties. You would think she would be retired by now, but she's not. Unlike most teachers, she actually likes her job. Since all my grandparents are dead, I see her as my grandma. She's a cute old lady with gray hair and pale skin. She's pretty short. About five-two. I sometimes have to walk her to her classes just so she wouldn't trip. Surprisingly she has early onset Alzheimer's. You would think they would fire her or something, but she's still working. And that's why I admire her. I'm planning on being a teacher when I grow up. Helping out the little kids and troubled teenagers as if they were my own. That was my dream job. Every time I would tell a fellow classmate about it, they would just laugh. Most of the students are either dumb or have some sort of disability. My best friend Megan is dyslexic, so I have to tutor her in English everyday. I don't mind it thought because it gives me a head start on teaching.


I'm going to miss Megan the most. She's tall, has long red hair, and piercing blue eyes. Every guy thinks she's hot. Which she is. You have to be blind to not think she's beautiful. I wish I was as beautiful as her. Then I would have more friends and a boyfriend.


I'm a lWhat's your opinion on my story?
I liked it...very good job...kept my interest. However, the part about Ms. Spelling seemed out of place..also Megan.





You get the readers attention about the room, the mirror, the new school..etc...and suddenly we have to read about an old teacher who's not going to be part of your new life.





I think if you want to establish Spelling as a character, perhaps it would be better placed on the train ride to NY as the main character day dreams..perhaps another passenger reminds her of Spelling?





The only part that needs some re-writing is below....';bedroom'; is way over-used.





'; I stand in my dark bedroom trying to figuring something out. The grayness from outside my bedroom windows penetrates my bedroom, bringing in a depressing glow.';





Hope you don't mind my comments...you show promise and talent..keep up the dream.What's your opinion on my story?
http://www.authonomy.com/
From a publisher's perspective.....get rid of the mirror thing. Old. Tired. Been done thousands of times before.





Rewrite your story: show us what you tell us. Are you a reporter or are you a person with real emotions? For example, if Mrs. Spelling is your stereotypical grandma teacher at least write something new and insightful besides ';She's a cute old lady with gray hair and pale skin.'; That doesn't help us get to know her at all. Be specific. Give good details. If you don't the reader will simply substitute his or her own idea of what this lady is like and not care about her. Steer the reader in the direction you want him/her to go. Be more expressive.





Othere than that. Keep on writing and GOOD JOB!
Some sections are way too repetitive.





That girl isn't me. She couldn't be me. I never thought of her as me.








Oh, yeah. I had to take the train to New York. How old fashion. It makes me think of those old time movies where you have to ride on a train to get to a destination. I was actually looking forward to riding the train. I hadn't ridden on one before. The only time I saw a train was in the Harry Potter movies. I'm from Kansas so you don't see a lot of trains.





Those 2 sections are the worst I encountered. It becomes extremely boring reading things like that, and nobody could get through a whole book written like this.


Also, unless Mrs. Spelling plays a huge role, don't describe her that much! You go on and on and on about Mrs. Spelling. Like I said, if she doesn't come back later in huge role, cut it out.


'I like Mrs. Spelling. She's an older woman in her sixties, but unlike most other teachers, she loves her job, and has inspired me to become a teacher.' would be enough.

What do you think about this story?

Now, mind you, I'm only fifteen. I know I'm no Shakespeare, but I try. I think that writing is my passion, and it's what I want to do with my life... so I'd better get used to criticism. :)





Also, music is another of my passions, so this particular story (Called ';Bits and Pieces';), is about a bartender and four musicians.


Here's a paragraph or two of one of my favorite parts, when Benny (one of the musicians) confesses to the main character, Reese, that he's diabetic. This takes place at a playground, and they're both sort of drunk. (Don't you worry--they're both over 21!)





Also, it hasn't been edited yet, so please forgive grammar and spelling mistakes. Thank you so much in advance!





As Benny slid down the slide, I had a miniature war inside my head.


Should I ask him?... No... I shouldn't. Yes, I should. No, I shouldn't. This might be my only chance! But I can tell him later... Not now...


';Benny?'; I chirped, nervous.


';Yeah, Reese?'; He peered up at me from the ground, looking up at me with a small smile spreading across his face.


';Do... do you like the other people in the band?'; I asked quietly, making Benny chuckle.


';Pieces, of course I like them. They're my best friends--that's the only way they put up with my moodiness.'; He looked confused at why I was asking.


';Oh. Then why were you always trying to get away from them?'; Benny's eyes darkened at my question.


';Well... Reese... it's a condition.'; He said quietly.


';What? A condition?'; I was baffled. Was that a metaphor for something?


';... I'm diabetic.'; He whispered so softly that I had to lean in to hear.


';Oh.'; That's all I could say. Oh.


';My blood sugar felt high, so I went backstage so the other guys couldn't see me check it.'; His voice sounded strained, as if even he didn't believe what he was saying. ';All the guys think I'm depressed or withdrawn or something.';


';That's... sad.'; After my whole life bartending, I couldn't think of anything to say. ';I... I wouldn't have guessed.';


';Well, fortunately, neither have the others.';


';But you should tell them! They'd understand why you're always disappearring!';


';No, Reese, I can't! And you can't, either!';


';But it would make things so much easier...'; I argued, almost pleadingly.


';Please, Pieces. Believe me. They can't know. What if they start treating me like some little kid or something? I told my mom, and she STILL won't leave me alone about it.';


';Benny, they won't treat you like a little kid. Plenty of people in the world have diabetes, it's not a big deal--';


';Not a big deal?! I'd like to see you try pricking your fingers all the time just to check your blood sugar! How about giving yourself insulin twice a day by injection? Want to try that?'; Benny's face was red, and his voice trembled. He held up his hands to show me the small red dots on the sides of his fingers from pricking them. ';You... have... no... idea.';


I sat, my feet dangling off the side of the play tower. My bartender's intuition picked up spontaneously, and I silently climbed down the ladder. Benny gave me an odd, stupefied look as I walked over to where he stood and gathered him into a hug, wrapping my arms around his back.


The other three musicians on the other side of the soundproof plexiglass walls gave me a thumbs-up, but I ignored them. All I concentrated on was Benny's steady sniffling, and the tiny drops of tears dripping onto my shoulder.


When my intuition assured me that he was comforted, I let go, stepping back a couple feet. Benny wiped at his eyes furiosly, as if I couldn't tell he was crying. I chuckled softly.


';Thanks for that.'; He kept rubbing his eyes. ';Sorry, you must think I'm some girly, emotional person...';


';No, I don't. I can understand--you've never told anyone that.'; I smiled, and we stood wordlessly for a few moments.


';Would... would you mind not telling the other guys that I was crying? They'd never let me live it down.';


';Two secrets in one night? Whoo... I don't know.';What do you think about this story?
Good dialogue but perhaps you need more description of where they are to ground/anchor it into reality.

How do you configure your fingers to spell crip?? (the gang?)?

the way people spell blood with thier handsHow do you configure your fingers to spell crip?? (the gang?)?
How could you explain how to do that over the internet? It'd be easier to like show you in person, my friend showed me. At first, I couldn't even tell it spelled ';blood';. It was weird, I don't know why you'd want to do that...How do you configure your fingers to spell crip?? (the gang?)?
I am not sure I would throw a gang sign unless you are a MEMBER of the GANG...and considering the Crips and Bloods are very dangerous you might get shot at....
Whoa, I knew they had the blood one, but crip, too?





That's gonna be impossible to describe through writing.
What the heck makes you think we know?
can u spell stupid? same way.