Young Writers Society

Hello!

I first wanted to say that I noticed from the comments that you are 14? If yes, than I am even more impressed.

Okay, let's dig in.

I want to start by saying that I really love your writing style and I would like to see you write more. There is something about the way you write that feels...mature. And, of course, really captivatiing.

"From the diminutive house, came an elfin girl in a bright daffodil dress..." These opening lines perfectly set the stage for something enchanting and mysterious and I knew straight away I am going to like this.
Your vivid descriptions and might I say, unique, storytelling grasped and drew me in.

My only slight little complaint is that I wanted more!:) The story left me with many questions about how the story might continue (and I hope you do), and I'm dying to know what happens next. I hope you continue Elizabeth's adventure or expands on this magical world.

good job!

Hello to my favorite 14-year-old!!!

Okay, so I was silly and I thought that when you said "elfin girl" you meant "elf" especially when you mentioned the diminutive house. And especially when you called it a daffodil dress, since I thought that this little elf was literally wearing a dress made out of daffodils. After all, you are writing a fantasy of sorts! So, I would probably adjust my language to make it clear that this is a little girl who has a little house and has a bright yellow dress.

Or! If you would prefer to use your florid description, I would probably add other descriptions to indicate that she is indeed a human and not an elf. (I think from our conversation you said that she was a little girl, right??? Though, I forget how old you said she was... about 6-7, maybe?) For instance, maybe you can add to the description of the dress and talk about the weave of the fabric or something so that she seems less fairy-like. Maybe she can be holding some sort of toy as well and getting ready to get in some sort of mischief as 6-7 year old children are wont to do. (Not that elves can't get into mischief... in fact, they probably get into quite a bit of mischief, I would imagine1)

(Also, can a 7-year-old actually balance hold those things with both hands, PLUS balance a peach on their head?? My 7-year-old wouldn't... maybe you can see if a certain 8-year-old kid you know can do it. It would be an interesting test, in any case!)

Elizabeth ran right into a tree.

This was not her mother’s garden.

Hey! Awesome job on this story. Is it a short story or are you planning on writing more? If so please let me know when you do!

Anyways, the lines 'Her hair was dark oak heartwood, and her eyes warm coconut shell.' is a beautiful way of describing your character, Elizabeth. I love how mysterious this story is, it defiantly catches the readers attention and gets them thinking a bit more than they thought they would have to:) It's very poetic and well thought out so awesome job!!
The way you describe her essentially getting knocked out is very creative, most of the time people would just say something like 'her world went black' or literally saying 'she fell unconscious'. But you made it different, you made it unique and special!

Although, it is slightly confusing due to the lines, 'She opened her eyes. This was not her mother’s garden.' If this is the mysterious kind of vibe you're going for then I totally get it! But it's a bit confusing there.

Great job! I really enjoyed it!

Aurora49

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,

From the diminutive house, came an elfin girl in a bright daffodil dress; out the red door she slipped quietly to tip-toe down the steps. In her right hand she held a white woven basket, in her left bread and cheese, and she balanced on her head a blushing peach. Her hair was dark oak heartwood, and her eyes warm coconut shell. As she dawdled down the footpath around her home, she twirled around leisurely to view the surrounding countryside, then closed her eyes to focus on the sounds of her favourite setting.

Elizabeth walked straight into a tree. She opened her eyes. This was not her mother’s garden.

Elizabeth scanned the area. A bubbly brook was flowing to her right, a lightning-struck fallen tree to her left, and her downy peach had dropped to the ground at her feet. Not a creature was visible in the plump forest and the wind just whispered through the leaves. As she pulled away from the tree she had swept into, her hair caught in the bark so that she struggled to lose it. Finally freeing herself, she attempted to sit before feeling a sharp frisson of nausea. Her sight became overcast and unsteady, appearing in waves, before finally the sun exited her vision and even the air fell silent.