Awesome job once again.
Chapter 1
The 1st of July, 1946
Carrie-Ann Walsh dropped to her knees and prayed. She knelt on the hard, fraying green of the kneeler in Christ Church Cathedral. Like most things within the church, the kneeler had once been brand new, made of dark wood and covered with plush velvet green fabric on top of its wooden surface so that the patrons wouldn’t hurt their knees but now, in 1946 Carrie-Anne was essentially only kneeing only hard wood. She dipped her head into her hands, which sat open in front of her, and faced the back of the church. Besides the flickering light of the paschal candle, which did little but create shadows on the altar and walls, the church was dark. Other than three old Irish women in the corner saying their rosaries quietly to themselves, she was the only one there. She had to pray for a sign.
Carrie-Ann had grown up an Irish-Catholic. She prayed when she woke up, before she ate, before she went to bed, and after she heard bad news. These prayers were for specific people in her life or the world, but she seldom prayed for herself. The young girl was unusual contradictory in nature, and had been told that her American name but strong Irish pride would take her far in life. She had pale, dewy skin, with cheeks that still held on to the faint natural blush a child. On this young face though were strong, tough features. Most distinct were probably her eyes; they were thin, and looked like she was squinting. They were feline-like and a bright, light blue which sat like two slender-cut pieces of blue topaz above a long, bony nose. Below that nose were thin lips, which she had always made sure were covered with the newest lipstick color. Yes, the features were tiny and hard, but on such an innocent canvas that she drew stares everywhere she went. She was known for her haircut; a blunt, straight cut of her thin, flat black hair, that matched exactly at her jawline. She was lovingly called “Snow White” by a boy she liked, and “American-chic” by her girlfriends.
And she was “American-chic”. From her first name, the only non-Irish thing about her, to the millions of movie star clippings she had in her trunk. Her friends often came together when one of them, Darcy, would receive prints from an uncle in America, and the girls would fawn and fuss over fashion and hairstyles. That’s what Carrie-Ann wanted. America.
So she prayed for a sign. There was a rumor that soon a boat would dock in Dublin to bring Irish citizens to America for a new life, but the passage was selective. The second world war, even if it had ended already, created a lot of distrust towards immigration, even if the Irish had stayed neutral, because there was always the chance of spies.
Carrie-Ann’s parents felt strange about her wanting to leave. She was almost 18, bright, young and engaged to be married in February. If she waited a few years, surely her life would fall into place. But she didn’t want to wait. She wanted stardom and streets paved with gold. She wanted to go to Tiffany’s and Wanamaker’s and feel what it was like to be a hip-American gal!
Her father said the same thing every time it was brought up. “Our family stayed during the potato famine, during the Irish immigration boom, and during the war decades ago. We aren’t moving now; things are beginning to get better.” Her mother would say “I heard they don’t treat Irish people very well there, dear. You’d have to live in an Irish community and only work at Irish stores. You can do that here! Why leave?” but Carrie-Ann had to get away. She had told her parents that if they didn’t want her to go and feel American, they shouldn’t have named her what they did.
She just had to get away, you see! She couldn’t explain it, but she promised passage and a better life for the rest of her family when she got there, if she got there. And she was sure that she would.
It was the second time that Carrie-Ann was in the church that week, after first meeting with Father Thomas to determine her wedding date and ceremony. Both times she had knelt in front of the gold tabernacle and prayed for serenity and safety, but this time she was without her fiancé, Oliver McMill, and not praying for a happy marriage but, rather, a safe journey.
She scrunched up the bottom of her gray cotton dress, lifting herself up with a sigh and headed towards the exit of the church.
When she got to the outside she took a deep breath, taking in the smell of freshly cut grass surrounding the church and looked up at the bright blue sky. She loved Dublin, it was the only place she had ever lived and the biggest city in Ireland, which made her desire for New York City realistic. She was clearly an urban girl, and reveled in the smell of motor oil from the automobiles passing her and the chatter of people walking along crowded streets.
She ran a hand through her hair and began to walk down the long street to her left. The street was entirely lined with old brick buildings, many of which had been built by the families of kids she had gone to school with. She wandered down the uneven cobblestone street in front of the church to the entrance of the cemetery, where she sat on the cool, leaf covered granite bench. She leaned down and brushed some dirt off of the engraving to read the names, which told of a 40-year anniversary present to a Mr. and Mrs. O’Mara. 40 years…she and Oliver had been engaged for nearly 4 months and to her it already felt like a lifetime of commitment. She leaned forward on the bench enough to grab the black iron bars of the cemetery gate and rest her forehead on one of them to close her eyes and think. She wondered for a moment where the O’Mara’s ended up. How long had they been married since the building of the bench, and did they ever go there to reminisce about the younger days of their relationship. She heard a faint whistle from behind her and turned her head, coming nearly face to face with Ida Conaghan and Darcy O’Ryan as the young girls tripped and fumbled over the curb in fits of giggles.
The teenagers walked in a slanted fashion as if their legs were bound together, sauntering in this weird way over to Carrie-Ann with their arms linked. In their hands each girl held a variety of different flowers picked from a small patch of green from the other side of the church in a plethora of different colors.
Carrie-Ann jumped up from her seat and skipped over to the girls, helping as a flower from Ida’s bunch got tangled in a piece of Darcy’s fair hair. When the excitement had settled and all 3 girls had stopped their chatter they embraced, walking all three of them arm-in-arm through the city without exchanging a word. In fact, it was quite common for the three best friends to travel through Dublin linked to one another in pure merriment, and Carrie-Ann felt no greater joy than going window shopping and seeing pictures with her girlfriends. And that’s exactly what they did on this July day.
The first stop was to McCormick’s family bakery, where each girl was given a small, fresh cherry pie to gobble down while it was still warm. When the girls had licked the last juice from the cherry and last crumb of the crust from their fingers they headed shopping. Instead of buying anything, the girls stood in front of the large mirrors in the store and fluffed out their dresses, twirling their hair in their fingers and smiling at their reflections to check for lipstick on their teeth.
“Oh, look. Curly, Moe, and Larry.” A voice said from behind them as John Ahearn and his motley crew of dirty faced little boys strode up behind the girls. Darcy turned and smiled at the group, made up mostly of red haired orphan boys who waked through town offering their service to strangers for nickels to buy candy. Darcy stepped towards John and ruffled his blonde hair, giving him a big smack on the cheek, which left a big, bright red smooch stain on his pale cheeks. Darcy was known for her flirtatiousness with the boys in town, and for her cherry red trademark lip stain.
This is my first review, so if I make any mistakes sorry 
.
I saw very little mistakes, and they've all been pointed out by myjaspercat. So I really liked the plot and it was really interesting. It's a pretty short chapter and maybe you could add a more suspenseful ending.
But otherwise it was a great story. Toodles!
Hey there GinaERufo,
I'm back to review this next chapter for you
The 1st of July, 1946
Carrie-Ann Walsh dropped to her knees and prayed. She knelt on the hard, fraying greenof thekneeler in [the] Christ Church Cathedral. Like most things within the church, the kneeler had once been brand new, made of dark wood and covered with plushcomma velvetgreenfabricon top of its wooden surfaceso that the patrons wouldn’t hurt their knees but now, in 1946 Carrie-Anne was essentiallyonlykneeing only [on] hard wood. She dipped her head into her hands, which sat open in front of her,and faced the back of the church. Besides the flickering light of the paschal candle, which did little but create shadows on the altar and walls, the church was dark. Other than three old Irish women in the corner saying their rosaries quietly to themselves, she was the only one there. She had to pray for a sign. Not a bad start.
Carrie-Ann had grown up an Irish-Catholic. She prayed when she wokeup, before she ate, before she went to bed, and after she heard bad news. Theseprayerswere for specific people in her life or [for] the world,butshe seldom prayed for herself. The young girl was unusual contradictory in nature, and had been told that her American name but strong Irish pride would take her far in life. She had pale, dewy skin, with cheeks that still held on to the faint natural blusha[from] childhood. On this young face though were strong, tough features. Most distinct were probably her eyes; they were thin, and [made her look]lookedlike she was squinting. They were feline-like and a bright, light blue which sat like two slender-cut pieces ofbluetopaz above a long, bony nose. Below that nose were thin lips, which she had always made sure were covered with the newest lipstick color. Yes, the features were tiny and hard, but on such an innocent canvas that she drew stares everywhere she went. She was known for her haircut; a blunt, straight cut of her thin, flat black hair, that matched exactly at her jawline. She was lovingly called “Snow White” by a boy she liked, and “American-chic” by her girlfriends. I liked the descriptions you used to describe Carrie-Ann but you used the word 'thin' so often that it became repetitive and boring. I would suggest trying to find similar words to replace that one.
[...]
Carrie-Ann’s parents felt strange about her wanting to leave. How so? How does one exactly feel strange about someone wanting to leave? She was almost 18, bright, young and engaged to be married in February. If she waited a few years, surely her life would fall into place. But she didn’t want to wait. She wanted stardom and streets paved with gold. She wanted to go to Tiffany’s and Wanamaker’s and feel what it was like to be a hip-American gal!I'm slightly a little biased towards exclamation marks and so I don't really think this one belongs here.
Her father said the same thing every time it was brought up. “Our family stayed during the potato famine, during the Irish immigration boom, and during the war decades ago. We aren’t moving now; things are beginning to get better.”New line Her mother would say “I heard they don’t treat Irish people very well there, dear. You’d have to live in an Irish community and only work at Irish stores. You can do that here! Again, the exclamation mark feels unneeded.Why leave?” but Carrie-Ann had to get away. Capitalize the 'but' She had told her parents that if they didn’t want her to go and feel American, they shouldn’t have named her what they did.
She just had to get away, you see!Exclamation mark= no-no She couldn’t explain it, but she promised passage and a better life for the rest of her family when she got there, if she got there. And she was sure that she would. You've kind of been toying around with the same idea/ same thought and same sentence throughout the last paragraph. It's starting to become repetitive, boring and lagging to the plot.
It was the second time that Carrie-Ann was in the church that week,after first[the first] meeting [was] with Father Thomas to determine her wedding date and ceremony. Both times she had knelt in front of the gold tabernacle and prayed for serenity and safety., but tThis time [however,] she was without her fiancé, Oliver McMill, and not praying for a happy marriage but, rather, a safe journey.
She scrunched up the bottom of her gray cotton dress, lifting herself up with a sigh and headed towards the exitof the church.
When she gotto theoutside she took a deep breath, taking in the smell of freshly cut grass [that]surrounding[surrounded] the church and looked up at the bright blue sky. She loved Dublin, it was the only place she had ever lived and the biggest city in Ireland, which made her desire for New York City realistic. She was clearly an urban girl, and reveled in the smell of motor oil fromthe[passing] automobilespassing herand the chatter of people walking along crowded streets.
She ran a hand through her hair and began to walk down the long street to her left. The street[which] was entirely lined with old brick buildings, many of which had been built by the families of kids she had gone to school with. She wandered down the uneven cobblestonestreet in front of the churchto the entrance of the cemetery, where she sat onthe[a] cool, leaf coveredcomma granite bench. She leaned down and brushed some dirt off of the engraving to read the names, Engraving of what? The bench or a nearby headstone? which told of a 40-year anniversary presentto aMr. and Mrs. O’Mara. saying the engraving is an anniversary present seems rather odd. I mean she is in a cemetery, so why anniversary present. Also put what I have bolded in between hyphens and get rid of the comma before which. 40 years…Replace the ellipsis with a comma. she and Oliver had been engaged for nearly 4 months and to herit[that] already felt like a lifetime of commitment. She leaned forward on the bench enough to grab the black iron bars of the cemetery gate and rested her forehead on one of them to close her eyes and think. She wondered for a moment where the O’Mara’s ended up. How long had they been married since the building of the bench,remove comma. And this clears things up but leads me to another point, if she's sitting on the bench than she doesn't really need to bend down to read the engraving [unless it's on a name plate in front of the bench] and did they ever go there to reminisce about the younger days of their relationship. This past sentence reads like a question so it should be properly ended as so. She heard a faint whistle from behind her and turned her head, comingnearlyface to face with Ida Conaghan and Darcy O’Ryan as the young girls tripped and fumbled over the curb in fits of giggles.
The teensagersSaying teenagers sounds a little to formal. walked in a slanted fashion as if their legs were bound together, sauntering in this weird way over to Carrie-Ann with their arms linked. In their hands each girl held a variety of different flowers picked from a small patch of green from the other side of the churchin a plethora of different colors.We already know about the different colors
Carrie-Ann jumped up from her seat and skipped over to the girls, helping as a flower from Ida’s bunch got tangled in a piece of Darcy’s fair hair. When the excitement had settled and all 3 Spell out three girls had stopped their chatter they embraced, walkingall three of themarm-in-arm through the city without exchanging a word. In fact, it was quite common forthe three best friends[them]we already know they're three of them and we know they're best friends so there is no need to keep telling us. to travel through Dublin linked to one another in pure merriment, and Carrie-Ann felt no greater joy than going window shopping and seeing pictures with her girlfriends. And that’s exactly what they didon this July day.
The first stop was to McCormick’s family bakery, where each girl was given a small, fresh cherry pie to gobble downwhile it was still warm. When the girls had licked the last juice from the cherry and last crumb of the crust from their fingers they headed [out to shop]shopping. Instead of buying anything, the girls stood in front of the large mirrors in the store and fluffed out their dresses, twirling their hair in their fingers and smiling at their reflections to check for lipstick on their teeth.
[...]
I know that I have to edit this, but here is the first draft of it enjoy
and please leave some reviews
120,354 Literary Works • 649,544 Reviews
Points: 2960
Reviews: 32
Donate