Elizabethan market place

I saw just a couple grammatical errors that I believe several people pointed out, so I will just briefly mention them.
To vs. Too
Lute vs. lute (is that supposed to be capitalized?)
There were a few others in the last paragraphs.
Other than that, it was a very good historical account of Elizabethan times! Great work!

It was a gloriously sunny day. Bright rays of sun shone from the heavens, illuminating the sky and the Earth. lowercase Bright green tree’s sparkled in the sun and stood with their arms high, trying to reach the untouchable unreachable? heavens. Vast fields grew on either side of the dirt path. With the sun reflecting off this morning’s the morning's dew? dew; the grass in the fields looked like polished emeralds. nice description T[b]he great beasts of cattle that occupied the pasture grazed[/b] I get what you mean, maybe you make it clearer without any knowledge of the treasure trove they feasted on. I am not sure what you mean. With all this beauty surrounding us it feels like a true sanctuary. Today I am on another heart-pounding adventure; today father Not sure but I think it's a capital and I venture to the mystic market.

As my father strolled down this path of wonder on which we travelled, the cattle diverted their attention from their banquet to the man who walked down the path; he walked as if he owned the whole world. I'm a bit confused. At the age of thirty,is he thirty now? my father was a tall, lean man. At the moment he looked more like the farmer he really was instead of a former solider, hmmm, wording. It may be confusing he dressed in a light draw-string shirt that tucked into his dark brown breeches. His dark brown hair with flecks of blonde teasing at the tips; his blue eyes were as light as the sky on a clear cloudless day. He has a crocked crooked? nose from making a crude jest to his older brother at the age of 9. My father also had endless range of emotions; from kind and loving to the temperament of a hornet; and when this anger struck, along with the sharp angle of his chin, he could make a grown man shake in fear all to easily. Knowing this my father prided himself on not losing his temper, but today father was smiling so it likely to be a day of great joy if all goes well.

That's all I have time for. Hope this helps. It's good though.

I'm not a big fan of beginnings that start with "It was a..." I find those to be overused and a little cliche. Also what time is this set in? When I see "Elizabethan" in the title I assume that it would be set in between 1485-1603. That being said, if she was sixteen years old, I doubt she would still be with her father. She would have probably already been married off. Maybe just a little bit more research of that era would help out. I did really like the descriptions though! It made me feel like I could be there! There were some grammical errors, but I see that pretty much all of those have already been pointed out so I won't go on about those. I think that overall this is a good short story!

Hello Nyx! I'm GenShawklan and I'll be reviewing your story today.

Just a few nitpicks (red is errors, green is suggestions):

Nyx wrote:It was a gloriously sunny day. Bright rays of sun shone from the heavens, illuminating the sky and the Earth.

Nyx wrote:Bright green trees sparkled in the sun and stood with their arms high, trying to reach the untouchable heavens.

Nyx wrote:Vast fields grew on either side of the dirt path. With the sun reflecting off this morning’s dew; the grass in the fields looked like polished emeralds. The great beasts of cattle that occupied the pasture grazed without any knowledge of the treasure trove they feasted on. With all this beauty surrounding us it felt like a true sanctuary. That day, I was on another heart-pounding adventure; that day, father and I ventured to the mystic market.

Nyx wrote:As my father strolled down this path of wonder on which we traveled, the cattle diverted their attention from their banquet to the man who walked down the path; he walked as if he owned the whole world.

Nyx wrote:At the age of thirty, my father was a tall, lean man. At the moment he looked more like the farmer he really was instead of a former solider; he dressed in a light draw-string shirt that tucked into his dark brown breeches. His dark brown hair had flecks of blonde teasing at the tips; his blue eyes were as light as the sky on a clear cloudless day. He has a crooked nose from making a crude jest to his older brother at the age of nine. My father also had endless range of emotions, anywhere from kind and loving to the temperament of a hornet; when this anger struck, along with the sharp angle of his chin, he could make a grown man shake in fear all too easily. Knowing this, my father prided himself on not losing his temper, but that day father was smiling, so it was likely to be a day of great joy if all went well.

With my father’s giant strides I was practically running just to match his steps. Seeing this, a gigantic grin spread across my father’s face, and he slowed his pace. We were nearing the village market and the sweet whispered secrets of the market were already being carried by the velvet touch of wind.

Nyx wrote:Even with this, excitement started to form in the pit of my belly. The putrid smell of the ditches that were connected to the town flowed on either side of the path. Smelling this made me want to lose my morning meal just from the odor of rot and decay; I was sure that if I saw what was in the ditches, I would lose my morning meals not only from today but from the past week. The luscious green grass of the fields were no more; they were slowly being replaced by buildings and houses, waste and ditches. My father knew the streets better than I; he latched on to my hand to guide me to the day’s adventure.

Nyx wrote:At the age of sixteen I was no stranger to people,

Nyx wrote:but I was still taller than most of the women that hustled towards the market. My chestnut brown hair caught the sun and showed hints of red. My dress was made of simple cotton to suit the increasing heat of the day, and was the colour of fresh cream. The sleeves came to my elbows, and the bodice I wore had trims of lace to match. It was tight enough to push my heart in to my throat. My face was small like my mother’s, my nose was straight like my father’s, but my bright green eyes came from my grandmother.

Nyx wrote:All too suddenly, the market came into my sights. I squeezed my father’s hand to let him know that the trip to the market was already making me happy. With both of us grinning over the time ahead,

Nyx wrote:we walked into the glorious bedlam that is the local market.

Nyx wrote:The streets were lined with stalls from north to south, east to west. No portion of street was unclaimed by a table. Everywhere you looked, people were talking of the past day’s events, or the health of a family member. Disagreements of prices could be heard vaguely from the distance. There was the sound of a mother yelling for her children to return. Some sweets were stolen from a bag, then the small culprits darted through the crowd, laughing and squealing over prospect of being caught red handed with the wanted goods still staining their lips.

Nyx wrote:All the stalls were laden with produce and luxury items; from crisp apples to strong vegetables, soft yellow butter to silky fabric. The market was a place of excitement; no matter how many times I ventured here, there was always a new aspect to explore. As I merged into the crowd, I moved towards a stall selling another farmer’s crops. The apples sparkled like stars on a clear night. The rest of the vegetables and fruit looked ripe enough to burst before my eyes. As I chose my precious prizes, the market girl that stood behind the stall looked at me shyly. She was a small girl, maybe of the age of eight. She had straight blond hair and almond-colored eyes. The girl’s mother smiled as she saw my line of sight and placed her hand on the girls head to announce with great pride that the girl was her only daughter. After I paid for my wonderful produce, I took a bright red apple from the collection and gave it to the little girl. The mother protested profoundly over my gesture and tried to give the apple back, but I just smiled, said my farewells, and left. The girl stood smiling as I walked down the path to the next stall.

A few hours after arriving at the market, my father was looking a bit restless. He didn’t normally accompany me out,

Nyx wrote:but on his day of rest father didn’t wish to reside in the house, and instead decided to escort me to the market. Therefore standing before the last stall I wished to visit.

Nyx wrote:I heard the sweet sound of music, and followed my instinct to find the source of the wonderful sound that was eluding my sight. Just as I turned the corner behind a stall I found the music that was so soothing to my ears. The fiddler was standing and swaying to the beat of his own instrument. The passion of his music seemed to flowed over me like a gentle breeze. The Lute player sat on an old three legged wooden chair, keeping time by tapping his foot on the dirt that sat undisturbed by the rhythmic tapping.

Nyx wrote:Both men wore brown breeches and dirty shirts,

Nyx wrote:but none of that seemed to matter; the mixed music of the two instruments was the only thing that captured my attention. The music seemed to flow right through my soul and into my heart. Suddenly, father grumbled something about the lateness of the day. Reluctantly, I left the music and trudged back to the material stall. My spirits immediately lifted as I saw the selection; the cotton was not rough on my fingertips, but it was not as soft as silk either. It seemed to float on my fingers and elegantly drape; it was the most brilliant shade of beaming blue. As I was going to use the material to sew a gift for my mother, I could see no reason that the price should play apart in the gift. I brought the blue silk that felt like and angel’s touch.

With all the treasures from the time spent at the market, we started the journey home. Even as we walked out of the market and began back the way we came, I could still hear the faint sounds of children playing where they were not meant to, the sound of mothers trying to find their precious little children, the soft sound of music. Even farther in the distance, I could hear a disagreement over the price of some object. The foul insults that were being shouted managed to put a fierce scowl on my father’s face. As we left behind the noise and the adventure, Father recited his own expeditions of the day. We walked side by side down the path that would lead us to the sweetest place on Earth, home. We strolled through the path with the vast fields of emerald grass on either side, past the trees that tried to reach the heavens. The glorious sun shone and smiled down at us.