Help! I am a little ant and I'm drowning in a glass of water! Me ahogo!
xP No. Seriously, I need help. You see, I'm writing this novel about peasants and city people, and I need someone to slap me and/or tell me how to improve this before I expierence a breakdown. Tell me anything: "You need to do -this- and -that-!" "This lacks -something-" "Work on -this-" "Your English is weird/-adjective-" "Trash" "Quit writing!". <-- *is obviously desperate* I need some guidance, please...
P.S. I know the Parts are short... There's a rational reason behind that.
The compelling sound of a trot was wayfaring through the pastureland as Andre's body bounced on the saddle. They carried on, and then followed a vaguely-straight road of dust trapped between green beauty and strong looking trunks. When the pond was before Presumida's horseshoes, Andre gave the water a satisfactory smile and placed his feet on the ground. Then he patted Presumida's neck gratefully, and unbuttoned his shirt. The place was what he described as paradise many times; the birds whispered from the tree tops, and the wind wandered around offering a refreshing touch, the sun was about to sink into the sea, and the pond's water was warm enough. He took his boots off, looking as free-spirited as a man could ever look; it was as natural as the very last piece of a puzzle fitting into its place. He walked towards the pond and left his shirt behind him when he let it fall to the floor. His entrance into the water seemed somehow abrupt, even when knowing that it was in his plans. But that was Andre for you, unpredictable and obvious at the same time. He sank his body fully under water, and remained under the surface for a while. There was no way he could die for lack of oxygen, and everyone in town knew it, for they already knew Andre had the lungs of a fish and the soul of a real peasant.
The owner of the land, also known as Coronado, was having a walk with Mr. Cowell, a friend from the city; he had just taken a flight with his wife and daughter to spend time in the countryside. Even though he was somewhat tired, he still was enchanted enough to ask Coronado to show him the place. However, his Capitalist soul reflected that it was not the beauty of the place what got him to wear that sneaky unpleasant grin under his nose.
Mr. Cowell had a funny looking appearance (especially when he was walking); he was short and chubby, and his skin's complexion got people to wonder if he had ever stepped under the sun light. His facial hair could've been counted in less than sixty seconds, and as if that wasn't amusing enough, it would only grow right on his pointy chin. His fancy clothing made him look out of place in the wild looks of nature, and his gestures gave the impression of arrogancy sometimes.
Although, to his left stood a man that was hard working, but a joke-lover. Coronado had the whitest teeth, and the greenest dark eyes. For some reason I cannot describe, he wasn't that good looking, but he was so sympathetic and he made socializing such an easy and natural thing that after spending a few hours with him, no one was able to say he was ugly. Even arrogant Mr. Cowell respected him for who he was.
When the pond was before their eyes, they were able to see Andre's mare and the messy track of his belongings laying on the grass. When Coronado saw the tormented crystal waters of the pond, he figured Andre was somewhere underneath it, and he stopped walking. Mr. Cowell's pupils grew smaller out of concernment and with his eyes wide opened, he put his left hand over his friend's shoulder, involuntarily.
"There is someone drowning there!" He burst out in a whisper; making his statement sound dubiously confident.
Without even looking at him, Coronado chuckled and leaned down to get a pebble from the floor. "Nah!" He replied. "That's just my boy. If it wasn't cause I've raised him, I'd say he's a fish," he said and then laughed.
"Your son?" asked Mr, Cowell with suspicious intentions. Coronado didn't pay much attention, he barely looked at him with the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he replied vaguely. Deftly, he started playing with the pebble on his fingers as he waited for something to happen while he stared into the water; like a feline waiting to attack.
Less than a second passed by when Andre's head hit the air and the water slipped down his shoulders. When Coronado saw the back of his head, he didn't hesitate to throw the pebble his way; it kindly ricocheted over the water until it drowned right next to the boy. Andre looked at it, indifferently. When he turned around and saw Coronado his smile seemed pleased, and he started making his way out of the water.