Young Writers Society

The Chair Lesson By Dragon Rider

I remembered that when I was a little girl I was a young, fast, troublemaker. It didn’t help that I had a pretty large family. I had cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, and my parents living together in one house. However, when my grandfather died, my grandmother came to live with us. With her, she brought her rocking chair.
I remembered when she first came through the doorway with just two bulging purple velvet bags. Shortly after, father came in carrying her rocking chair. Back then, the chair had been smooth, sleek, comfortable, and a beautiful shade of mahogany. Father set it into the swept-clean corner where it stood consummately.
Growing up in an enormous family was difficult. Everyone was always moving—always hurrying. It seemed like when someone was finally home, they were soon gone—swept away by the wind. Not even loving grandma and her sweet cookies were always there, but there was one thing that was always there for me—grandma’s rocking chair.
It kept me company when I was alone.
I would climb downstairs late at night after everyone had gone to sleep hours ago. I would get onto the cozy chair by the fireplace and feel warmth even though the vibrant fire had long died out and the embers long grown cold.
Grandma’s chair was always there—listening to what I had to say when no one else could. The chair was also there for me for the greatest and worst moments of my life. It was there for my birthdays, my first kiss, and . . . for the death of my grandma. Even after grandma’s death, she lived on in her chair. The chair seemed to be alive—harboring my dead grandma’s percolated spirit.
Years had passed and no one had touched that enchanting chair. Soon, dust bunnies assembled in the corner. The once pulchritudinous and active chair metamorphosed into a dull and dormat chair. The glossy structure became hard and splintered.
With a child’s fantasy, I had hoped that the chair would stay forever, but the woeful day eventually came when I had to give up that marvelous rocking chair. Nonetheless, the chair had been through its course of life. Even the magical chair’s flame would have to die.
Decades had passed since then until I became a busy grandmother myself, but I’ll never forget my grandmother and her special rocking chair.

This story captured the emotion that the young girl felt for her grandmother and the rocking chair. It was actually very moving to read. I liked reading this a lot. I didn't find any grammar errors; if there are any, I overlooked it because I was very into reading the story. A job VERY well done. :]

Keep writing.

Hi There
So, Let me start off by saying I very much enjoyed this short story.
Here are some things I particularly liked:

Back then, the chair had been smooth, sleek, comfortable, and a beautiful shade of mahogany.

-I really liked how you described the chair; the word 'mahogany' really gives me an image of a very rich colour.

The chair seemed to be alive—harboring my dead grandma’s percolated spirit.

1. I like how you personified the chair a bit here.
2. "harboring my dead grandma's percolated spirit..." -That just sounds so well written to me!

I also liked how you ended your story, by making the narrator a grandma as well- a nice touch.

The only thing I might consider is:

...when I was a little girl I was a young, fast, troublemaker.

This is all nicely described, but you mention 'little girl' at the beginning of the sentence and then proceed to use the word, 'young.' Maybe a different adjective would fit better? Just a thought.
Also, the word 'troublemaker' is a noun, so it might flow a little better if you put, "...when i was a little girl I was a young and fast troublemaker."

You don't need to pay any attention to my advice, but that's just my opinion!
Overall very well written and enjoyable!
Keep Writing
-Briggsy

Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.