This may seem a little cliche, but I think I can make it go somewhere. Anyways...I might be rambling on and on through here so please help me out with word choice, and how and when to describe things. (Like when to say what things look like.) Anything else I wouldn't mind too.
As the car wheels crunched over the gravel road leading up to the Iron Gate, I looked straight ahead at the immense structure of the Nottoway plantation that was given to us through the will of my great grandfather. Leading up to it, was the gravel road and willow trees on both sides. The house had five large columns, and a wrap around porch. On the porch sat wicker chairs and end tables where we would drink iced tea with lemons as a family tradition after dinner. It had blue shutters, and a massive oak door with an old timely knocker. It sat on a hill, overlooking a valley of wine gardens and an old bunkhouse that the slaves who worked the fields would stay in. As my father pulled into the circular driveway, I got out. Seeing as we come here every summer and I knew my way around, I made my way towards the back of the house where I would find Lynda, our maid, tending to the gardens. On my way I heard my father call to me not to get into trouble since there were neighboring plantations. Lynda was not too far away, but I kept quiet for she could be a little overwhelming at times. Slipping through a crack in the doorway, I took in the fresh smell of pine of the floorboards and dusty smell of old books. Making my way to the entryway, I peeked through the front door of the house and saw my parents getting our bags out of the car. They would be busy for a little while so I continued through the rooms. Looking at the blue China in the cupboards in the dining room, the stairs caught my eye as they winded up to the second floor. Taking them two at a time, I hurried up and took a left into the room I usually stayed in. Not all the rooms had windows, so it was quite dark except the light coming in from the hallway. Peering at the porcelain dolls that sat on the dresser I look up to see my reflection in the mirror. I eyed my reflection slowly, from my long curly blonde hair, to my dark brown eyes, and then the freckles across the bridge of my nose. While I admired myself, I fingered the golden locket that hung around my neck. Inside was a picture of my mother as a child and my great grandmother whom I barley knew. I then looked at my outfit; I wore a soft brown peasant dress, which was a light cottony fabric. Perfect for summer weather. I noticed it brought out the darkness of my eyes and gave me a mysterious brooding appearance. Smiling, I saw two dimples on each side of my cheeks form. I laughed softly and as I moved my eyes to the corner of the room I caught sight of a figure that stood behind me in the mirror. Turning around hastily, I seemed to stop breathing as panic settled into my stomach. Trying to think of something to say, I looked around the room hoping that if I looked back it would be gone and that it would have been just my imagination playing tricks on me. When I turned back though, it was still there, standing there not saying anything or moving. It sent chills down my spine as I looked at it closely. That’s when I saw that it was a boy; he looked a little bit over eighteen. He had brown tousled hair, and deep blue eyes that looked at me in some kind of daze. That’s when he reached for me and when I screamed.