How do you like my story so far?

Please critique anything that needs to be re-done.



I walked upon the cement blocks, my feet too small for my dirty sandals. I pointed my toes with each step. The music of my sandals was loud, like fish flopping in water. My chin pointed at the sky, and nostrils flared as I took a whiff of the air. The clouds covering the sky, darkened the sun, and drops of rain ran against my back. With each step, I played the song of my feet, following the tune with the rain falling against my skin. I felt damp and thick. My long ponytail lowered and I felt the hairs touching my wet flesh. My dog, Chicken, started howling at the thunder. His lips shaped like an, ‘o’. He looked at me, smiled, and started back at the sky. I knew what he dreamed of, and that was adventure. I, too, dreamed of adventure to come, but I knew I was no special then him on the bike or her in the car. Mr. Wrock’s voice disturbed the tune of the rain, with his harsh and husky noise, he looked over the fence. Under shade, he glanced around at the grass and looked upon me, then grunted. A cigar in his hand, and a book under his arms, he placed the cigar up to his lips, and lit it. He smirked at me and dropped his book.

“It’s raining, don’t you hear the thunder?”

“I come out to think.”

“Well, why don’t you think inside?” He bent and picked up his book. A book without a title.

I continued skipping against the cement blocks, ignoring his words.



Mom came in the room with dark and dirty overalls, spitting her chew in a dirty, rusty, gray can with no label. She glanced at me with her dark, saggy eyes, narrowing at my chest.

“Well, aren’t you growin!” Her voice was loud, and cracked.

“Ma…” I started.

“You should find yourself a nice boy aroun’ here, ain’t much left to choose from before all the skanks steal every last one of them… like your god damn daddy. Ain’t know how to treat a woman unless he cheats on a woman.” A few of her gray hair flew and swept amongst her forehead, hiding her eyes. She winked at me, and then continued, “Baby, you ain’t going to make it far if you keep livin’ up with your imaginations.” Another spit in the can, “You need to find a man, buy a house and get me some grand children.”

“Ma… I’m only 16.”

“That didn’t stop me, baby.”



Ma was a drunk, a smoker and a chewer. Now, she wasn’t always like that until my dad left my mom and me when I was 7, and cheated with a “friend” he had met at the food mart. Ma never was the same anymore, always creating misfits whenever the clothes weren’t clean, the dishes weren’t soaked, and when the food was cold. Her love and passion never was the same after that, after dealing with all the grief of Dad leaving us. She started smoking at first, which I thought was normal for a person to do during stress. But then she met our next door neighbor, Trina Wrock (Mr. Wrock’s wife), who was an alcoholic, and after that, Ma drank every night and even sometimes twice a day. Ma soon got into chewing tobacco when she saw a sale at the food mart down the street, which the man who had worked there, named Tim, knew dad’s “friend / affair” and sweet talked Ma into buying whatever would take the stress away. Whenever I tried to get Ma to stop, she would always complain about how her life was miserable, and how she can never get any time to herself to think for herself. Always bringing up stories about the affair, and about how her parents kicked her out when she was pregnant with me. There was nothing I could do but feel sympathy for her lost. Nothing.



When it was dark out and Ma asleep on the couch, I snuck out to the backyard and began to walk upon the cement blocks again, staring at the purple sky. The grass was so shaded and dewy; I rubbed my feet on it and giggled. Chicken came out, his tail wagging in every direction, his tongue wet and sticky, trying to get my attention by licking my toes.



“Stop!” I laughed.

Hours went by.

I started pouncing around and around the cement blocks, pretending I was in a forest, solving for a mystery and finding radioactive spiders, or pigs that could fly, or even centaurs walking devilishly while hunting rabbits. If I could befriend one of these creatures, then I will surely feel special. I started skipping around faster and faster as my imagination grew stronger and stronger. My heart pounding at each step I took, the early morning birds singing to the sky. The speed and momentum of my steps made me trip, and one of the thick cement blocks dropped and broke in half. Puzzled, I saw a note in between the two broken pieces. I reached down and took the note with two fingers, and opened gently, trying my hardest not to tear the ancient paper. The color of the paper was a yellowish brown. There were words that were not in English, some strange mythical words. I glared at them without blinking, until my eyes grew tired and dry. The letters were not letters, but kind of like scribbles, chicken scratch. I didn’t realize how long I’ve stayed out.



“JustHow do you like my story so far?
its pretty good

i like the fact that you show a lot of imagry. i would read this book

i feel as if the girl is about to embark on some sort of adventure where she'll learn more about herself . it'll be a good book when finished. I would read it. keep writing!

robin