It’s amazing how a tall oak tree can be such a friend in the summer, shading you with it’s branches and endless leaves. It is also amazing how the very same oak tree can be your worst enemy. On a dangerously cold night, when the wind whispers your name and the wolves moan in the distance, the same oak tree that shaded you while you lay in the summer grass is now bald and scraggly, grabbing for you, and waiting for it’s chance to drag you down into the darkness....
“Whisper!” A yell wafted it’s way up my spiral staircase. It was around 5 in the morning, and already it was getting hot. I was right in the middle of one of many horror stories, and I hadn’t slept. My hair was frizzed so poofy it looked like a dark black ominous cloud hanging over my head, and my too-thick eyeliner was smudged all down my face from rubbing my eyes. I closed the top lid to my laptop, and stretched my arms towards the sky.
“WHISPER! BREAKFAST” My mother’s usually soft and gentle voice stung the air. My mom is a hippie. That’s the only word I have to describe her. You probably could have guessed that based on the fact that my name is Whisper. She’s one of those alternative-music-listening-dancing-around-in-circles-with-flowers-in-her-hair-and-paints-a-peace-sign-on-her-car type of people, but dammit when it’s family time, it’s family time. Like, our lovely little 5am breakfasts we have every weekday, EVEN IN THE SUMMER. I got up out of my purple roll-y chair and walked as slowly as possible down the orange shag carpeted stairs. My Mom’s back was turned to me, but I already knew what she looked like. Scrubbed face, red hair perfectly straight to the waist with a flower clip in it, and a long tie-dye dress that dragged on the floor a little. She may be a little strange, but hey, I love her.
“It’s 5:30, Whisper.” She told me, turning around to look at me.
“I know, my cell phone told me. I don’t know how to read a sundial quite as good as you.” I told her, flashing my best I love you mommy, smile.
She just smiled and said, “I’m telling you, technology never did anyone any good. All this internet and text messaging just spreads hate. How many times have you been upset because someone was rude to you on you-space? All it does is give people a mask to hide behind and I don’t like it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s Myspace, mom,”
She gave me a look and piled some food on a paper plate for me. I took my plate and sat down on a (fake) leather seated bar stool that adorned our bar style table complete with white counters and even shelves underneath, for alcohol, I suppose. I tried to eat as quickly as possible, nodding and smiling while my mom talked more about the evils of technology, men on the moon, and microwavable food.
As soon as I was done, I dashed up the stairs to my room. When you walk into my room, you wouldn’t even think it’s a part of the house I live in. I have dark brown almost black hardwood flooring, and my walls are a deep purple. My bed has purple and black pillows and a comforter, and my walls are plastered so densely with band posters you can’t really tell what color they are. My clothes are organized by various piles and baskets covering the floor. If you haven’t noticed by my description of my room, I’m not like my mom at all. I have curly wild jet black hair, deep blue eyes, and a killer style. Literally. Most of my clothes are black, tight, ripped, or have a band on them. My hair is worn big and straight, my curls are my worst enemy. I’m not a cute hello-kitty girly girl. I have black combat boots and an attitude to match. My mom was a little shocked at first that I wasn’t a grass kissing flower child like her with her soft features and red hair, but the hippie in her heart wouldn’t let her say anything but encouraging words about everything I did, and I loved that. The only time she ever really got “mad” was if I broke a serious rule, or if my music disturbed her meditation (which happens often). I can hear her now, “WHISPER! No one can achieve Nirvana with slather blaring on your computer!” And I’d laugh, turn it down, and fail to point out the difference between “slather” and “Slayer”.
I stood in front of my mirror and began to put makeup on and tackle my hair. I had an art class I had signed up for at the community center at 8, and I wanted to go take pictures at the graveyard before I had to be there. You see, I’m really into art, writing, and photography, and weirdly enough, I always get the best light in the cemetery. I guess the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, but I digress.
At around 6:30 or 7 I finished my hair and makeup, grabbed my Emily The Strange bag, and walked out the door. It was unbearably hot out and I could already feel my makeup melting in the summer heat. I walked along the pavement for what seemed like an eternity, and finally made it to the small hidden gravel road that led to an old unmarked colonial graveyard. I had never seen anyone here, and there was nothing on the graves besides overgrown ivy (that I had been scraping off) and scraggly grass. I walked down the road, admiring the willow trees that lined the sides, and listening to the birds sing their morning songs. Finally, I had made it to the grave site. I was about to set my bag down when I saw a flash in the corner of my eye. I whipped around, but the only thing staring back at me was a disheveled tree squirrel. It chattered at me angrily and glided up the nearest tree, because apparently my presence disturbed the peace. I slowly grabbed my camera out my bag and squatted down, trying to inch closer to the tree. I aimed my camera and the flash went off, blinding the poor squirrel, who took off chattering loudly, probably alerting the other squirrels of the dangerous lady with the light. I looked at my camera and sighed, I didn’t get the picture. Again, a flash in the corner of my eye caught my attention, but when I slowly, this time, turned around, the only thing there to greet me was the blinding sunlight. This was getting a little creepy even for me. I shuddered as a shiver went down my spine. I grabbed my bag and decided to come back later, after my art class.
I live in a very small town on the outskirts of Arizona. It’s always blistering hot, and the people aren’t the friendliest . The people of this town always seem to edge away from me, like my style is a disease and people are always talking down about my mom, saying she grows pot and we worship the devil and whatnot. It doesn’t usually get to me, but once, one day, I finally flipped out on someone. We were having one of our 5am breakfasts and there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see two clean cut men with chubby cheeks and blonde hair, wearing suits. Before they looked at me, they started to introduce themselves, but when they caught sight of my black hair, lip ring, and makeup, it shut them up fast. The first guy stammered on what he was going to say and the second one just stared with his mouth open.
“What? Cat got your tounge?” I joked, right as my black longhaired tailless cat, Spark, pushed his way out the door. The first man jumped and gasped and the second one just stood there, still staring. Then when he had gathered his wits, he said. “Young lady, you look like you need to find God’s love, and let him into your heart. I have some brochures here for you and-” But I cut him off.
“This is America, and I have the right to chose my religion, and how do you know I don’t believe in god? Is there something stamped on my head? Or is it because I’m not blonde and wearing a suit? Do you not see the fucking sign that says “no soliciting”? You’re in violation of that because you are soliciting your religion, so I think you should leave.” He looked startled at first and then angry. He shoved the bible into my hands and turned to leave, but not before shouting,
“You and your mother will repent for your sins! We do not put up with your kind! You will repent!” Sparks could have shot out of my eyes, I swear. I walked off my porch and up to his tidy clean shaven face and I punched him square in the face. He fell to the floor and blood was running out of his nose. His friend rushed over to help him, got him to his feet, and into their nice Mercedes. “You will pay, you little bitch!” His friend yelled and drove off, leaving nothing but dirt and blood in his trail. Luckily, they didn’t press charges, but I had to do some community service and counseling for unofficial probation. My mom was so mad at me, I think it was the first time I’ve ever seen her really want to hit me. But, I think you get the general feel of how people treat us here. But, my mom loves living in a small town. Especially the one she grew up in. She was a foster child, though, so I don’t have any real relatives I know about, and my father was a sperm bank, literally. She had artificial insemination, and I resulted. I always wanted to meet the man that gave me my wild dark curls, and deep blue eyes, though.
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That's it for now! Feel free to be harsh, I know it's really not that great.
Sorry if you saw this before, I posted in the wrong section -.-
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125,005 Literary Works • 672,801 Reviews
Hi
Interesting! I really like the characters in this, especially Whisper's mother and I like how Whisper has a distinct, entertaining voice.
This should be 'its'. You only need an apostrophe if it's short for 'it is'.
I think putting this in italics would be a better way of emphasizing this because capslock seems a bit odd, like the narrator is suddenly yelling at you.
Tiny thing but you only need to capitalize 'mom' if Whisper's directly addressing her and using it as a name.
You switched to present tense here. You've done this in a couple of other places as well.
Is the walk really that long? It's not like she's going on an epic journey; she's just walking to the town graveyard, so this description doesn't really seem to fit.
You've just stuck two separate fragments together here and the comma doesn't connect them properly. If I were you I would either put a colon instead of a comma or put a fullstop and start a new sentence after 'sighed'.
One thing I would say is that you go a bit overboard describing your main character and her bedroom. Having such a big bulky paragraph full of description is a bit offputting, and to be honest we don't need to know that much about her appearance all at once. It might work better if your just slipped in the occasional detail about her appearance now and then instead of in such a large chunk. Another thing I noticed is that you tend to switch into present tense whenever you're describing people or places. I would try and stick with past tense throughout.
Also, the plot wanders about quite a bit. It starts off with an interesting but seemingly unrelated paragraph about trees, then goes into introducing your main character and her mum as she wakes up, then describes her going to the park and seeing strange flashes - and at this point the plot seems to be getting interesting - and then she heads home and you suddenly swap to describing how intolerant the people of the town are and how how she doesn't know who her father is. While the information about the people in the town and her dad is interesting it doesn't really seem to fit in here, and so the end of the chapter is a bit of an anticlimax. I think it might work better if you focused more on what's happening in the park and included the flashback and the part about her dad later on.
So, overall, focus on keeping it in the same tense and maybe try and make the plot developments a bit more coherent, but apart from that this is a great start to a story.
Hey!
Well, I just want to let you know up front, that I like the MC Whisper (great name, by the way). She's very strong, and sure of herself, which is necessary for a good book. She's also very funny. I found myself laughing in some parts (Myspace!), and I like it when a character isn't too serious to have a personality. I do however, want to pass on some advice that I received yesterday on my book: you can be a little wordy, and that detracts from the main focus of the story. All of the descriptive words, while nice in setting the context and location, aren't really necessary in such large volumes. I got lost a few times in the depictions of the characters and surroundings, and then found myself tossed back into the actual story with a confused look on my face. Get rid of anything that doesn't directly contribute to the storyline itself. I'm about to post a revised edition of the chapter I was informed was too verbose, so if you want to compare and contrast the two to get an idea for yourself, please feel free.
Also, if you plan on developing this further, you need to get to the point sooner. I assume that the story is about finding out about her father? Or has something to do with that cemetery? That's the vibe I got. There were a few other issues, grammatical or otherwise, but in total, I'd say it's a good starting point for something bigger, and I hope you keep going with Whisper's story. Hope this helped!