To die, to live

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

Anyway let's get right to it,

I remember the day my sister died. It was a Sunday, the Sabbath day. I never saw her die, but I can imagine it was gruesome. She’d supposedly been raped, he pregnant belly ripped to shreds. But I knew better. When they pulled her from the water, she was completely naked. There wasn’t anything on her body. Meaning she wasn’t wearing the necklace our mother had given her the day before she fell from the same cliff into the same murky waters. That was a year before my sister’s death. And a year before the death of my very own soul it seemed.

That night, as I lay in my bed asleep, I dreamt of her. She was sitting in a wicker rocking chair, in her favorite sundress, rocking a small child while humming the same tune our mother would sing us to sleep with. I woke up to hear the same tune coming from my open window. The white lace curtains softly fluttered in the gentle breeze. When I got up from my silk comforter and bed sheets, it softly faded away. I walked to the window and looked at the white sill. There sat my mother’s necklace that she had given my sister. It was silver with a red stone in the center with words encircling it. They were written in a foreign language unknown to me. As I closed the window I felt safe and assured that my nephew was okay somehow. They had never found his small body, which had been ripped from my sister’s body. He was assumed dead and token as a sort of trophy for the killer. But I had the feeling he was part of something so much more. So as I laid back to sleep that night, the necklace around my neck, I dreamt more pleasant dreams of my sister.

dont now what to say ?????

Well the only thing I really saw wrong with this was that you left the "r" off of the word her. Other then that it was really interesting. You should make this into a story like you are always doing during english class. I would love to see how it would turn out. You are an amazing writer and I love reading the random things you write. Keep on writing no matter what girly!!

Hey there, Calla,

I have to say, I'm intrigued. Will you be writing more of this story? I would like to know more about the narrator and her sister, and the killer.

Now, this is a very short piece. There's nothing wrong with short pieces, but I think that this could benefit from being expanded in some places. I have a lot of questions, and they mostly relate to the narrator. How did she hear of her sister's death? How did she react? How does she know that her sister died differently from the way she has been told - and why was she told the more gruesome version? The answers to questions like this would flesh out this story, and tell us a lot about the narrator's character, which would be interesting to read about.

Other questions that I have related to the killer, and the investigation into the death. The way your narrator talks about knowing better leaves me unsure as to whether the sister actually did have her belly ripped apart, which is a bit confusing. I'm also intrigued by the idea of the baby being taken as a trophy for the killer - it seems a strange conclusion for the investigation to come to. Maybe you could tell us a bit more about their thought process?

Overall, this is interesting and well-written - I just think it would be nice to read a bit more detail and some answers to the questions this brings up! Please do let me know if you post any more of it - I would be interested to read. Please also feel free to message me if you have any questions about things I've said here.

Cadi x

Hi there Calla! Sky here to review this piece.

Spelling Corrections:

he#FF0000 ">r pregnant belly ripped to shreds.