My first attempt at writing a novel

1

The worst kinds of dreams are not nightmares, they are the kinds of dreams where reality is a ship that sailed many years ago, where there are no such questions as; why and how, where everything you’ve ever experienced before has a new meaning, new feeling , where you are what and who you want to be.

What makes these dreams so painfully unbearable, what makes these-real-nightmares, is knowing; they are unreachable, unattainable, fantasies.

In the urbanised, rural town of Crambrook wells is where I reside, a once quiet, safe minuscule town just outside, the titan that is London. It is situated far enough not to have to endure the pretentiousness of the mighty capital but close enough to attain its benefits. This place I called ‘home’ for eighteen years, used to hold some significance to me. Now, only distant memories of that once undisturbed town remained; a book shop so old that if it had grandchildren they would still be older than my grandparents. The coffee stained brown lettering , above the store, powerfully exhumed, the respect this shop once held, bellowing out its name; ‘Gibbs Book Store’.
Out side an array of books brightened up the dull pavement, enticing you in, even if you had no intention of buying anything. The smell of this archaic establishment was intoxicating, it held that aroma only found in forgotten books, a fragrance of knowledge, adventure and romance, blended intricately. In the centre of this insignificant town was an enchanting, magical park, once filled with innocence and youth, but now reeking and polluted with petty-crime and drugs.
I was sick of this place; the very air poisoned my lungs. There was nothing holding me here, my childhood, thankfully, was blissfully enjoyed whilst this town still held its enchanting essence. But now... I had to get out.


“Anna!” My mother barked.
It was 6am, and the day of my escape from this godforsaken town, I drowned out my mother’s voice, and returned to my warm haven. Attempting to carry on where I left off, I started sinking deeper into the hazy purgatory that lies between consciousness and unconsciousness, falling deeper into pointless, insignificant dreams...

I was standing on a familiar bridge, overlooking a deep peaceful stream, behind me stood a small cafe, its ceiling barely high enough to accommodate a man of 6ft. The cafe up held the elegance and character only found in a Jane Austin novel. Outside, in mahogany tinted hanging baskets, were the most mesmerizing erect, lilies, gracefully swaying to the subtle breeze, welcoming its refreshing lullaby.

The clay bricks of the cafe implied a Victorian era, wearing away and eroding in places, yet still so beautiful. I could hear the murmurs of people inside, so real and full of emotion and character that they couldn’t just be extras in this production of a dream. I could imagine, the typical stay at home mum’s with their pram’s, gathering in their masses to converse about the latest predictable storyline in Eastenders or Corrie, or how their little ‘terrors’ had kept them up all night. I could clearly picture, the golden oldies, comfortably sleeping in the chairs, with their half drunken cups of tea, stone cold in front of them .I sighed at how predictable and repetitive life was. A little chuckle escaped from me, at the very thought of myself turning into them.

I was then pleasantly interrupted, by the silky stroke of the breeze through my hair, it felt so real, too real. The sun’s rays were bouncing of my skin, reminding me off what a beautiful day it was. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some movement, slowly, whilst still admiring the beauty around me, I turned to face, the west side of the bridge .In the scaling, sleek stream, sat a small royal blue, wooden dinghy, with an oar either side of it.

There he sat, staring up at the bridge, in awe, after a second I realised it wasn’t the aged arched bridge that bewildered him; his stares were focused on me. I could see him so clearly, his windswept dark chocolate hair danced in the wind, he had a lean defined body, evident through the pale green v-neck jumper and dirty blue jeans. His stare remained, un-jilted and so intense. His beauty overwhelmed me. His eyes so mesmerizing, but the element of pain and yearning deep within them was so evident, it was so familiar, the feeling they reflected, one I’ve seen so many time’s, in my own eyes. Our eyes were locked for no more than a second, but it felt like an eternity. I blinked, and within that split second he was gone.

Suddenly, all the serenity and beauty of this place hastily disappeared; the stream below was no longer content. The previously vivacious, small talk from the cafe was non existent; silence enveloped this refuge. The sky no longer proudly presented, its eternal friend the sun, dark, heavy clouds floated in making their presence known. I no longer felt at ease, before I could even decide on what to do, my feet had started moving, my mind felt completely alienated from my body.

I felt an overwhelming familiarity with my surroundings, as if I had been here a million times before, I noticed an opening hidden in the shrubs and slipped through un-comfortably. The trees were now harshly dancing, no longer to the sweet lullaby they danced along to earlier but a heavier, colder song.

Completely mesmerized by this dangerously fresh place, such a slave to its enchantment, I did not notice him tracing my steps.

“Anna! I will not tell you twice! Wake up!” My mother, Sara, bellowed.
“I’m up,” I groaned.

Reluctantly, I slid out of my bed and forced my body into action. I drunkenly staggered to the bathroom and completed my daily routine. Feeling more awake and refreshed after my shower, I returned to my efflorescent room. My parents claimed it was cluttered, but I ardently still argue that it’s just far too small for all my possessions.

My room was a mustard orange, usually decorated with various pictures and band posters; Rage Against The Machine, The Mystery Jets, The Kings of Leon, The Beatles, I thought of them as a display’s of my dedication to their music.
The rest of my boudoir consisted of a large black bean bag, which provided me with the perfect seat for my timeless thinking. In the far right hand corner adjacent to my window, was my desk, it regularly harboured by precious laptop and speakers. My limitless collection of C.D’s and DVD’s were all packed away, as were my clothes, books, shoes, posters and pictures.
I got dressed in my previously planned outfit and made my way downstairs.

I lived in a humble house, my parents, didn’t earn a huge amount, but they found no attraction to material goods, which made our life’s easier. The house possessed three bedroom’s, the third being the spare room, which was predominantly used for ironing. One bathroom, which was situated in-between my bedroom and my parents, (the perfect sound vacuum). Downstairs, to the immediate left of the stairs was the large lounge, concealed by a small doorway. Able to accommodate, at least a dozen people, it held 2 large, blue leather sofas, and a black arm chair, it was far too big for our threesome of a family. The large old-fashioned, dirty beige kitchen was located on the opposite side of the stairs; it smoothly joined to our dinning room, which also served as a breakfast room.

“About time you made an appearance,” my father, Daniel, murmured, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“How could I resist my last breakfast with you and mum,” I retaliated, mocking his previous statement. He grinned, which resulted in me smiling.

I took a seat next to him, on the table, which was now beaming with a selection of juices, cereals and fruit. I sighed in relief as I sat down, I could eat what ever I liked after today, and the excitement sent shivers down my spine.

“So what time are we leaving?” I casually asked them, trying to hold back any sign of excitement.
“In an hour,” my mother sighed.
She was notably quiet today; usually she would fill the room with her pointless gabble. She was making this so much easier for me.

“Ugh” I groaned, whilst pushing down my bran flakes. My feeble attempt to sound upset and disappointed at the amount of time I had left here was evident.
“You will come and visit?” my mother asked desperately.
“Mum, I’m only a three hour drive away. I’ll probably hate it and want to come back!” I lied point blank in her face. Of course I wouldn’t hate it, who ever hates going to university!
The very thought of the antics I would be getting up to animated me; sex drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Well maybe not that extreme, but pfffft who knows!

“So you all packed then, nana?”
I looked up at my father as he spoke and frowned, I hated his pet name for me!
“Yes,” I managed to squeeze out whilst swallowing the last spoonful of bran flakes; I would have to endure, for a very long time.
Regardless of my age, my parents still perceived me as an incompetent child, whom they felt obliged to wrap in cotton wall, and keep a constant eye on. I blamed it on the fact that I was the only child. It helped me get through it.

I stood up from the breakfast table and made my way to the sink, taking in every single object in my immediate view, the thought of leaving home did unsettle me, in the slightest possible way. But the excitement and unpredictable life, which was so nearly in my grasp, had me salivating at the mouth. My life was finally about to begin.

Forty minutes later, all my possessions were compactly packed into the aging Ford Mondeo. I took my seat in the back, silent, anticipation pumping through my veins. Daniel and Sara, clambered in, my mother more hesitant, she acted as if she was being forced to take part in an abduction. I was sympathetic towards her absurdity.
The thought of a teenager, once controlled and with restricted freedom; now let loose, any mother would be suffering from anxiety and sleepless nights.

As soon as my father started the engine, I began to panic, what happens if I actually don’t like it? I dismissed the panic, and it flushed through my body as quickly as it had entered. What a ridiculous thought. My thoughts now turned to my house, my real protector, all these years from the danger and the harshness of society. The place where I grew up, where the transition into the person I am today happened. Sadness filled me, I felt like I was grieving a death. For a second tears started to drown my eyes. I closed them and leaned back, attempting to hide my distress, I pretended to be trying to fall asleep.

A million random thoughts filtered through my mind; my empty bedroom, the really hot guy from One Tree Hill (I always forgot his name), my lack of knowledge for technology, then suddenly out of nowhere, my dream from earlier this morning resurfaced. I remembered how I felt standing on that bridge and that seemed to compose my emotions.

He then entered my thoughts, his deep, intense eyes, and the aura of mystery that cloaked him. His very existence appeared all too familiar to me. But, I’d never seen this marvel before. Did I have a déjà vu influenced dream? I wondered. I dismissed him, and the dream.

Oblivious to its significance and the disaster it will inflict.

Minutes seemed like hours, as we passed towns, city’s and fields. The motorway appeared rather busy today, as if it was awaiting my presence and attempting to help my mother by prolonging the inevitable. Radio One occupied the silence, Chris Moyles, humouring my father, with his usual banter, I always thought he was quite sadistic, funny, but sadistic.

I dozed off, after a while, secretly hoping to return to my dream haven. As soon as I was drifting into unconsciousness, I was rudely interrupted by the abrupt stop of the car. I slowly pushed my eyes open and took in, for the first time, my new home. I took a deep breath and stared out of the window at the, fading swamp green sign that read, ‘The University of Darlington.’

Silence was now dominant; I guess this is what you would call...the calm before the storm.

* * *

The worst kinds of dreams are not nightmares, they are the kinds of dreams where reality is a ship that sailed many years ago, where there are no such questions as; why and how, where everything you’ve ever experienced before has a new meaning, new feeling , where you are what and who you want to be. This part is phrased a bit awkwardly. Perhaps you should break it up into a few different sentences. Also, a semi-colon is used to join two separate but related ideas.


What makes these dreams so painfully unbearable, what makes these-real-nightmares, is knowing; they are unreachable, unattainable, fantasies. Same thing with the semi-colon. I suggest you replace it with 'that'.


In the urbanised, rural isn't that a bit redundant? town of Crambrook Wells is where I reside, a once quiet, safe minuscule town just outside, the titan that is London. The comma is unnecessary It is situated far enough not to have to endure Awkward phrasing. Perhaps 'to not have endured' the pretentiousness of the mighty capital, but close enough to attain its benefits. This place I called ‘home’ for eighteen years, used to hold some significance to me. Now, only distant memories of that once undisturbed town remain[s]ed[/s]; a book shop so old that if it had grandchildren, they would still be older than my grandparents. The coffee stained brown lettering[s] , [/s]above the store, powerfully exhumed[s],[/s] the respect this shop once held, bellowing out its name; ‘Gibbs Book Store’. Um...are you writing in past of present tense? You changed tenses part way through.

Out side That's just one word plus add a comma an array of books brightened up the dull pavement, enticing you in, even if you had no intention of buying anything. The smell of this archaic establishment was intoxicating, it held that aroma only found in forgotten books, a fragrance of knowledge, adventure and romance, blended intricately. In the centre of this insignificant town was an enchanting, magical park, once filled with innocence and youth, but now reeking and polluted with petty-crime and drugs.

I was sick of this place; the very air poisoned my lungs. There was nothing holding me here, my childhood, thankfully, was blissfully enjoyed whilst this town still held its enchanting essence. But now... I had to get out.



“Anna!” my mother barked.

It was 6am, and the day of my escape from this godforsaken town. I drowned out my mother’s voice[s],[/s] and returned to my warm haven. Attempting to carry on where I left off, I started sinking deeper into the hazy purgatory that lies between consciousness and unconsciousness, falling deeper into pointless, insignificant dreams...


I was standing on a familiar bridge, overlooking a deep peaceful stream[s],[/s] Behind me stood a small cafe, its ceiling barely high enough to accommodate a man of 6ft. It would be much better if you wrote it out i.e. six feet The cafe up held the elegance and character only found in a Jane Austin novel. Outside, in mahogany tinted hanging baskets, were the most mesmerizing erect, lilies, gracefully swaying to the subtle breeze, welcoming its refreshing lullaby.


The clay bricks of the cafe implied a Victorian era, wearing away and eroding in places, yet still so beautiful. I could hear the murmurs of people inside, so real and full of emotion and character that they couldn’t just be extras in this production of a dream. I could imagine, the typical stay at home mum’s with their [s]pram’s[/s] prams, gathering in their masses to converse about the latest predictable storyline in Eastenders or Corrie, or how their little ‘terrors’ had kept them up all night. I could clearly picture, the golden oldies, comfortably sleeping in the chairs, with their half drunken cups of tea, stone cold in front of them .I sighed at how predictable and repetitive life was. A little chuckle escaped from me, at the very thought of myself turning into them.


I was then pleasantly interrupted[s],[/s] by the silky stroke of the breeze through my hair. It felt so real, too real. The sun’s rays were bouncing of my skin, reminding me off what a beautiful day it was. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some movement. Slowly, whilst still admiring the beauty around me, I turned to face[s],[/s] the west side of the bridge .In the scaling, sleek stream[s],[/s] sat a small royal blue, wooden dinghy, with an oar either side of it.


There he sat, staring up at the bridge[s],[/s] in awe. After a second, I realised it wasn’t the aged arched bridge that bewildered him; his stares were focused on me. I could see him so clearly, his windswept dark chocolate hair danced in the wind, he had a lean defined body, evident through the pale green v-neck jumper and dirty blue jeans. His stare remained, un-jilted and so intense. His beauty overwhelmed me. His eyes so mesmerizing, but the element of pain and yearning deep within them was so evident, it was so familiar, the feeling they reflected, one I’ve seen so many time’s[s],[/s] in my own eyes. Our eyes were locked for no more than a second, but it felt like an eternity. I blinked, and within that split second he was gone.


Suddenly, all the serenity and beauty of this place hastily disappeared; the stream below was no longer content. The previously vivacious, small talk from the cafe was non existent; silence enveloped this refuge. The sky no longer proudly presented[s],[/s] its eternal friend the sun, dark, heavy clouds floated in making their presence known. I no longer felt at ease. Before I could even decide on what to do, my feet had started moving, my mind felt completely alienated from my body.


I felt an overwhelming familiarity with my surroundings, as if I had been here a million times before. I noticed an opening hidden in the shrubs and slipped through uncomfortably. The trees were now harshly dancing, no longer to the sweet lullaby they danced along to earlier but a heavier, colder song.


Completely mesmerized by this dangerously fresh place, such a slave to its enchantment, I did not notice him tracing my steps.


“Anna! I will not tell you twice! Wake up!” my mother[s], Sara,[/s] bellowed. That part seemed a little unnecessary

“I’m up,” I groaned.


Reluctantly, I slid out of my bed and forced my body into action. I drunkenly staggered to the bathroom and completed my daily routine. Feeling more awake and refreshed after my shower, I returned to my efflorescent room. My parents claimed it was cluttered, but I ardently still argued that it’s just far too small for all my possessions.


My room was a mustard orange, usually decorated with various pictures and band posters; Rage Against The Machine, The Mystery Jets, The Kings of Leon, The Beatles. I thought of them as a display’s of my dedication to their music.

The rest of my boudoir consisted of a large black bean bag[s],[/s] which provided me with the perfect seat for my timeless thinking. In the far right hand corner, adjacent to my window, was my desk. It regularly harboured by precious laptop and speakers. My limitless collection of C.D’s and DVD’s were all packed away, as were my clothes, books, shoes, posters and pictures.

I got dressed in my previously planned outfit and made my way downstairs.


I lived in a humble house; my parents[s],[/s] didn’t earn a huge amount, but they found no attraction to material goods, which made our [s]life’s[/s]lives easier. The house possessed three bedrooms, the third being the spare room[s],[/s] which was predominantly used for ironing. One bathroom, which was situated in-between my bedroom and my parents, (the perfect sound vacuum). Downstairs, to the immediate left of the stairs was the large lounge, concealed by a small doorway. Able to accommodate[s],[/s] at least a dozen people, it held 2 large, blue leather sofas, and a black arm chair, it was far too big for our threesome of a family. The large old-fashioned, dirty beige kitchen was located on the opposite side of the stairs; it smoothly joined to our dinning room, which also served as a breakfast room.


“About time you made an appearance,” my father[s], Daniel,[/s] Again, seems unnecessary murmured, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“How could I resist my last breakfast with you and mum,” I retaliated, mocking his previous statement. He grinned, which resulted in me smiling.


I took a seat next to him, on the table, which was now beaming with a selection of juices, cereals and fruit. I sighed in relief as I sat down, I could eat what ever I liked after today, and the excitement sent shivers down my spine.


“So what time are we leaving?” I casually asked them, trying to hold back any sign of excitement.

“In an hour,” my mother sighed.

She was notably quiet today; usually she would fill the room with her pointless gabble. She was making this so much easier for me.


“Ugh” I groaned, whilst pushing down my bran flakes. My feeble attempt to sound upset and disappointed at the amount of time I had left here was evident.

“You will come and visit?” my mother asked desperately.

“Mum, I’m only a three hour drive away. I’ll probably hate it and want to come back!” I lied point blank in her face. Of course I wouldn’t hate it, who ever hates going to university!

The very thought of the antics I would be getting up to animated me; sex drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Well maybe not that extreme, but pfffft who knows!


“So you all packed then, nana?”

I looked up at my father as he spoke and frowned, I hated his pet name for me!

“Yes,” I managed to squeeze out whilst swallowing the last spoonful of bran flakes[s];[/s] I would have to endure, for a very long time.

Regardless of my age, my parents still perceived me as an incompetent child, whom they felt obliged to wrap in cotton wall, and keep a constant eye on. I blamed it on the fact that I was the only child. It helped me get through it.


I stood up from the breakfast table and made my way to the sink, taking in every single object in my immediate view, the thought of leaving home did unsettle me, in the slightest possible way. But the excitement and unpredictable life, which was so nearly in my grasp, had me salivating at the mouth. My life was finally about to begin.


Forty minutes later, all my possessions were compactly packed into the aging Ford Mondeo. I took my seat in the back, silent[s],[/s] anticipation pumping through my veins. Daniel and Sara*raises eyebrow* The MC doesn't think of the two as Mom and Dad?, clambered in, my mother more hesitant, she acted as if she was being forced to take part in an abduction. I was sympathetic towards her absurdity.

The thought of a teenager, once controlled and with restricted freedom; now let loose, any mother would be suffering from anxiety and sleepless nights.


As soon as my father started the engine, I began to panic; what happens if I actually don’t like it? I dismissed the panic, and it flushed through my body as quickly as it had entered. What a ridiculous thought. My thoughts now turned to my house, my real protector, all these years from the danger and the harshness of society. The place where I grew up, where the transition into the person I am today happened. Sadness filled me; I felt like I was grieving a death. For a second, tears started to drown my eyes. I closed them and leaned back, attempting to hide my distress, I pretended to be trying to fall asleep.


A million random thoughts filtered through my mind; my empty bedroom, the really hot guy from One Tree Hill (I always forgot his name), my lack of knowledge for technology, then suddenly out of nowhere, my dream from earlier this morning resurfaced. I remembered how I felt standing on that bridge and that seemed to compose my emotions.


He then entered my thoughts, his deep, intense eyes, and the aura of mystery that cloaked him. His very existence appeared all too familiar to me. But, I’d never seen this marvel before. Did I have a déjà vu influenced dream? I wondered. I dismissed him, and the dream.


Oblivious to its significance and the disaster it [s]will[/s] wouldinflict.


Minutes seemed like hours[s],[/s] as we passed towns, city’s and fields. The motorway appeared rather busy today, as if it was awaiting my presence and attempting to help my mother by prolonging the inevitable. Radio One occupied the silence, Chris Moyles, humouring my father[s],[/s] with his usual banter. I always thought he was quite sadistic, funny, but sadistic.


I dozed off[s],[/s] after a while, secretly hoping to return to my dream haven. As soon as I was drifting into unconsciousness, I was rudely interrupted by the abrupt stop of the car. I slowly pushed my eyes open and took in, for the first time, my new home. I took a deep breath and stared out of the window at the, fading swamp green sign that read, ‘The University of Darlington.’


Silence was now dominant; I guess this is what you would call...the calm before the storm.

This is an interesting chapter, and I half-liked reading it. Above was just me being nitpicky. The last line was a little bit cliche, and I believe that you could work on it. Still, it was a nice read.

Hey there! I read your chapter as I said I would and will now tell you what I thought of it. Since WaterVyper already took care of most of the grammatical and inter problems, I will focus my comments on the characters and the story itself.

The first paragraph was a bit hard to follow, probably because it was one long run-on sentence. I’d suggest making it a bit easier to follow, because I do like what you’re trying to say in it.

As for the characters: I think you did a good job at showing their personality, except perhaps for the main character. She seems very eager to get away from her home, to start a new life away from her parental house, but I wasn’t really convinced of the reasons why. We are told she wants to get out of her boring town and wants to decide what she eats for breakfast and dinner herself. Her parents seem nice enough. It might not hurt to put some more emphasis on her reasons why she wants to leave. On the other hand, I do think her sadness when she’s in the car gives her a nice realistic touch.

As for her parents: mom was believable, she was very motherly in her concern and reluctance to let the main character go. Dad seemed a bit distant, but perhaps that’s what you were going for.

Oblivious to its significance and the disaster it will inflict.

Even though the sentence is a bit clichéd and seemed a bit awkward where it was put, I kind of liked it. I would, however, suggest you phrase it a bit differently or remove it altogether. I think the fact that she had the dream was enough prove something would happen concerning it, otherwise it wouldn’t (or shouldn’t) have been mentioned in the first place.

I thought the dream itself was sort of interesting, though I must confess I found it a little boring up until she saw that person.

I think the pacing was good, but I have no idea where you will take this story. Up to this point we have a girl who is moving out, going to college, and who had a dream about a gorgeous man that somehow struck her as familiar. Nothing too groundbreaking yet, but I am curious what will happen next.

Keep up the good work!

Ok, this review won't be of absolute help to you since everyone else beat me to all the nitty gritty stuff and I totally loved it so no worries there.....

I like all the descriptions you gave, they were enticing (I think I spelled that wrong). The only thing I didn't like was the dream. I found it too long (too many descriptions, perhaps?) and since I didn't know the importance of it, I didn't really want to read it. Maybe shorten the beginning a little?

I also agree with White poem, you gave good descriptions of the mother and father, but the history of the main character was nearly non existent. How exactly does she feel about going to college, away from her parents and the like? You touch on it a lot in the beginning but I didn't get a sense of true feeling - concrete reasons.

Great story!! I hope to see more.
Welcome to YWS
Also, I love that you used the word whilst instead of while (haha, I'm from the US)

First of all, welcome to YWS. I'm JC. If you've got any questions or critique requests, you know where to find me.
Now, for the fun part.

The worst kinds of dreams are not nightmares, they are the kinds of dreams where reality is a ship that sailed many years ago, where there are no such questions as; why and how, where everything you’ve ever experienced before has a new meaning, new feeling , where you are what and who you want to be.

There are a few things wrong with this. It's cluttered, so much so it becomes distracting and off-putting. Your first sentence should set the tone for the rest of the piece and make the reader want to go on. And trust me, you don't want this to set the tone.
Another thing that bothers me is the semi-colon. It's very misplaced. A semi-colon pretty much (and I say pretty much, not exactly), makes two incomplete, but related sentences a single thought. A regular colon is for lists like: who, what, when, where, why, and how.
I also think you should make this several shorter, more polished sentences.

What makes these dreams so painfully unbearable, what makes these-real-nightmares, is knowing; they are unreachable, unattainable, fantasies.

What's with the dashes around real? It makes no sense. But, if you wish to stress the word, make it italicized.

In the urbanised, rural town of Crambrook wells is where I reside

I wouldn't say this is the best way to introduce her town, but you are the author, not me. However, this, like much of the piece, is the most cluttered way you could possibly say it. Try something simple like: I live in the once rural town of Crambrook Wells... Then you can go on to tell how it's changed over the years.

The coffee stained brown lettering , above the store, powerfully exhumed, the respect this shop once held, bellowing out its name; ‘Gibbs Book Store’.

Way, way too many commas in this sentence. Remember, a comma represents a pause in a sentence. Now, read this section out loud to yourself with all the pauses the way they're written. Now, does that flow? It doesn't even make sense that way. If you want it to make sense, the commas should red like this: The coffee stained brown lettering above the store powerfully exhumed the respect the shop once held, bellowing out it's name. Gibbs Book Store.
Another thing, how did the lettering on the sign get stained with coffee? Okay, so that was a rhetorical question, but what I want you to see is that description is very much dependent on what you are describing. A piece of paper can be coffee stained, a sign can be browned with age. Physically, it must make sense.

Out side an array of books brightened up the dull pavement, enticing you in, even if you had no intention of buying anything.

1. Outside is one word.
2. There should be a comma after it.

It was 6am, and the day of my escape from this godforsaken town,

1. Spell out six.
2. This should be a sentence on it's own, apart from the following section. So, replace the comma with a period.

I was standing on a familiar bridge, overlooking a deep peaceful stream, behind me stood a small cafe, its ceiling barely high enough to accommodate a man of 6ft.

1. This should be two sentences, I'll let you figure out where just to see if you were paying attention earlier.
2. Please spell out 'six feet'.

were the most mesmerizing erect, lilies,

Take out the comma before lilies and replace the one after it with a period.

Suddenly, all the serenity and beauty of this place hastily disappeared;

The word suddenly is the bane of suspense. It has been used and used again until it is so trite, nobody wants to hear it, especially in writing.

Rage Against The Machine, The Mystery Jets, The Kings of Leon, The Beatles, I thought of them as a display’s of my dedication to their music.

Period after Beatles

In the far right hand corner adjacent to my window, was my desk, it regularly harboured by precious laptop and speakers.

This should be two sentences.

I lived in a humble house, my parents, didn’t earn a huge amount, but they found no attraction to material goods, which made our life’s easier. The house possessed three bedroom’s, the third being the spare room, which was predominantly used for ironing. One bathroom, which was situated in-between my bedroom and my parents, (the perfect sound vacuum). Downstairs, to the immediate left of the stairs was the large lounge, concealed by a small doorway. Able to accommodate, at least a dozen people, it held 2 large, blue leather sofas, and a black arm chair, it was far too big for our threesome of a family. The large old-fashioned, dirty beige kitchen was located on the opposite side of the stairs; it smoothly joined to our dinning room, which also served as a breakfast room.

And this is important because...?
(info overkill)

I managed to squeeze out whilst swallowing the last spoonful of bran flakes; I would have to endure, for a very long time.

Semi-colon? No.
Comma? No.
This sentence should be void of punctuation until the period at the end.

Daniel and Sara, clambered in, my mother more hesitant, she acted as if she was being forced to take part in an abduction.

Period after Hesitant as opposed to the comma.

The thought of a teenager, once controlled and with restricted freedom; now let loose, any mother would be suffering from anxiety and sleepless nights.

Take out the semi-colon.

As soon as my father started the engine, I began to panic, what happens if I actually don’t like it?

Comma after panic should be a period. The second sentence has some tense issues.

Oblivious to its significance and the disaster it will inflict.

Tense and syntax issues.

Radio One occupied the silence, Chris Moyles, humouring my father, with his usual banter, I always thought he was quite sadistic, funny, but sadistic.

1. There are several sentences in this.
2. Read this out loud, pausing where there are commas, and see how that sounds. It just doesn't work.
How I would do it: The silence was occupied by Radio one, with Chris Moyles's and his usual banter humouring my father. I had always thought him quite sadistic, funny, but sadistic.

I dozed off, after a while, secretly hoping to return to my dream haven.

Take out the first comma.

Silence was now dominant; I guess this is what you would call...the calm before the storm.

The first semi-colon should be a period.
And what's with the ellipsis? It's like a dramatic pause, which is okay in speech and screenplays, but in prose, it's just cheesy and off-putting.
________________________

Comma Obsession:
Now, I now I pointed out a lot of these problems, but not all of them. It seems like you have an obsession with punctuation, but not correct punctuation. In writing everything should flow, like with speech. Most people, don't talk with; this kind of punctuation, in their voices.
See, not only was that choppy and cluttered, the punctuation wasn't all correct. I'll let you figure out which one.
Most of your work read something like this. Note, I say most. There were moments where punctuation was fine, and the words were beautiful. So you have all the potential and conceptual originality without the execution.

My Suggestion: Go read. A lot. Watch the kind of punctuation being used, and pay special attention to your problem areas, ie: the illusive semi-colon.

Diction and Syntax:
All writers have their way of speaking through words. A certain flair to their words that when put together, makes it uniquely theirs. Now, at the moment, you have yours, but I do worry about it.
You have a tendency to put two many words to a single idea and it ends up way too cluttered for the most part. Sometimes, simple can be beautiful.
Just keep that in mind. Your voice is your voice.

Overall:
This was a decent piece. Like I said before there were a few golden moments. The writing and talent is all there, but the execution and elegance is missing. I like the story line you have, and love the part about the strange guy. I hope you continue this, and best of luck with your novel.

-JC