Question by : Please critique my writing?
Hi! It would be awesome if you could please offer any critique or feedback on my writing. Please don’t be afraid to be blatantly honest of harsh. I’m looking for some real constructive criticism, since all I can get out of my friends is ” cool!” “Yeah, good!” But they don’t write, and are just being nice. Anyway, It is about a sixteen girl that makes a deal in her dream with a mysterious man, and then wakes up the next day in an old folks home and is eighty years old. Then allot of strange thing start to happen(other than that – of course!) That’s the basics.
Thanks for your help.
Eve’s hands were thin and creased, not the supple, fleshy limbs of only weeks earlier. She lifted the cloth between her frail fingers and lay it across the palm of her hand, taking in the embroidered detail on the handkerchiefs corner.
She glanced up momentarily to see her daughters face.
She had a daughter. Her own flesh and blood.
Her child’s furrowed brow, and black eyes peered out from beneath a heavy fringe.
“Mother?” she asked, “is everything… ” The girl swallowed hard, unable to finish her lame consoling efforts.
“I’ll be back to visit in a month. Andrew might come along. If he can get off work and… and, anyway.” Her daughter stood up and shook her fringe out of her eyes. Eve watched as she lifted her black vinyl bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder.
“Well, bye then.” Leaning down, she briefly kissed her mother’s lined forehead before heading towards the door with a dismissive wave.
“Bye,” Eve chocked out, lifting the hanky to her eyes and wiping away the tears that had begun to spill into the hollow of her cheeks.
“I’m not crazy.” She said, but the girl was already gone.
Tucking the tear-stained handkerchief beneath her gown, she took a deep, heaving breath, and then wheeled herself out of the room and towards the patient lounge.
This prison was her new home. She would need to get use to it.
More than anything, Eve wished for the suns rays on her back and for the foamy whitewash to once again tumble over her tired feet.
Why, she wondered, could things not have stayed that way? What was it preventing her rightful happiness ?
What could she have done so wrong for things to end up like this?
“Eve?” A young nurse said, approaching her from the office.
Eve ignored her, continuing to make her way to the lounge. She wouldn’t do it. They couldn’t force anymore drugs on her. Her head already felt heavy, and everything seemed a blur. The past few weeks she’d sat in a sort of trance, waiting for things to make any kind of sense. But they didn’t.
Eve wheeled herself through the door at the end of the corridor and into the lounge.
She felt the tears in her puffy eyes beginning to well up again, and squeezed her quivering lips shut in protest. ‘No more crying,’ she told herself.
Throughout the enormous white room, patients sat scattered in wheelchairs and seated around stainless-steel tables. Movement was almost non-existent. At first look the patients seemed to be mannequins, or maybe even…dead. Might as well be, Eve thought to herself, as she climbed out of the wheel chair and sat at the table nearest the exit.
From this seat, she could stare out through the room’s sliding doors. The doors led out to a stone courtyard where rose bushes grew all around the high surrounding walls.
“There’s no point thinking about it.” Eve looked up, startled.
Best answer:
Answer by AJ
im bored of omniscient narrators and yours seems to switch between omniscient and your protagonists perspective
use an ‘awful lot’ of tropes, characters are cliche’ then again you cant judge from such a small passage the plot seems a bit contrived but keep writing and evolving the story
im not a fan of story’s that have dream sequences usually as a rule of thumb and the story seems more for story’s sake then to converse some idea or explore areas of human condition etc and generally i don’t read for purely entertainment
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