The Dark truth E.2

So the plot thickens! That boy in the photo wasn’t her brother, but the family’s painter. Maybe even the sister’s friend or boyfriend. Could it be that he is the reason the girl is trapped in her own house and can’t find her family? Or is something else? I enjoy this story so far. I’ll check out the third part tomorrow.

I hope that you will have an amazing day and night.

Unfortunately, this is the second time Thing is typing this out. Its first draft got swept away by a misguided sweep of its sticky fingers. I told it it would have to retype it because I would like to keep my reputation as a tortoise. So, here it goes to work again.

Thing tells me it discovered blood and slimy liquids on the red carpet. We decided the people of this household wash their floors with soap and blood. An odd combination I daresay.

It also told me about a mysterious girl who is staring up at a image of her family. And if we did not make a mistake in our careful observations, we believe the painter himself is in the painting, crying. Based on the fact that Thing reported that the image on this boy is also in the older sisters room, I am led to think that this is the older sisters boyfriend. But why is he crying? I would think that with eery brush stroke of his, he is locking away more of his sweetheart into a painting where she will be safe from whatever calamity her little sister is going through right now. Perhaps the entire family but the little girl lives in that painting. But why? Or was it that the painter knew that he would soon be separated from his girlfriend by the sudden death of one or the other of them? Are the girl's family actually dead or can she just not find them in this gradually intensifying mystery? That would be quite sad. Indeed.

I can only tell her to avoid the garden mentioned somewhere here. Because right outside the door might be THE VAMPIRE ROSE-LIKER SODA SUCKER AND CHIP DESTROYER!!! But perhaps she will be okay...if she hasn't drunk any soda within the last 24 hrs. But considering the old-timeyness to this piece, one could infer that soda was not even invented yet. *Sigh of relief*

Keep well up on that high hill you own, tend your Roses, and drink your soda...just don't hurt this poor little girl who lives up there with you.
-THING

Hello! This is a random weirdo here to give you a short review.

This is very interesting (and scary!) story, and I can't wait to see where it goes! I wonder who her family is and why they're not with her? Who's the painter and why was a picture of him in the house, especially surrounded by blood? And why can she hardly remember anything? What's going on here?

One thing you could improve on is your detail. There are a lot of good descriptions, and a fair amount you could work on. Here's an example:

He nodded as he looked at me through his rectangle glasses. I was so happy I could hold them, they were beautiful.

Hello Rose,

Once again, I am back to review a well-written work from you. You set the tone of the work right off the bat, a dark tone. The narrator feels lost and the reader meanders through the tale with her, and the pictures reinforce that image. The flow is excellent and the story itself is riveting. I hope to read more of it going forward.

There are some flaws in the grammar and paragraph structure that bear visiting.

The first paragraph is a strong start, setting the mood immediately, and it flows well. But the fabric of the piece starts to fray in the second.

I didn't know how long I sat there, but it took me a while to get my breathing back to normal and to calm my panic. Lights were placed on the wall that radiated a nice warmth, it only lit the hallway, the entrance and exit of the corridor were dark. Completely dark, it looked like someone could emerge from it any second. I sat next to a small wooden table, which luckily didn't get in the way when you came running into the wide hallway. The table had a nice protective coat of paint on it, which gave it a sort of shine. A green vase with beautiful structures was placed on the table. There were chrysanthemums in the vase, they had a kind of soft yellow-pink color. I noticed a large painting on the wall, in a thick wooden photo frame. I saw a family standing there in a big beautiful garden, they all seemed so happy, while I was here too scared to even get up. I looked at all the happy faces, I really wanted to find my family. I was so scared. I’m sure that they could tell me what was going on. Why I was here and what happened. Especially what happened, I really wanted to know that. Because while I was sitting here, I knew that somewhere something terrible was happening, or had already happened.

I didn't know how long I sat there, but it took me a while to get my breathing back to normal and to calm my panic.

Lights were placed on the wall that radiated a nice warmth, it only lit the hallway, the entrance and exit of the corridor were dark. Completely dark, it looked like someone could emerge from it any second.

I sat next to a small wooden table, which luckily didn't get in the way when you came running into the wide hallway. The table had a nice protective coat of paint on it, which gave it a sort of shine. A green vase with beautiful structures was placed on the table. There were chrysanthemums in the vase, they had a kind of soft yellow-pink color.

I noticed a large painting on the wall, in a thick wooden photo frame. I saw a family standing there in a big beautiful garden, they all seemed so happy, while I was here too scared to even get up. I looked at all the happy faces, I really wanted to find my family. I was so scared. I’m sure that they could tell me what was going on. Why I was here and what happened. Especially what happened, I really wanted to know that.

Because while I was sitting here, I knew that somewhere something terrible was happening, or had already happened.

I didn't know how long I sat there, but it took me a while to get my breathing back to normal and to calm my panic.

I sat there for several moment, my head in my hands, fingers curled in my hair and tearing at the thick strands. My heart hammered painfully against my ribcage, each breath a painful gasp for air. Closing my eyes, I focused on slowing my breaths, on controlling the fevered tremor in my hands.

I love the spooky vibe of this book 5 stars its so well written and it would be lovely to see more work from you and it feels as if the narrator died and im wondering whats next it also had so much emotion poured into it I've gotta say you’re one of the best authors I’ve seen so far on this platform and i love the addition of images to your story to create more of a mental image good job