Title yet to be determined

Hullo Stockmar.

There's not too much one can say to something this brief--at least, no in-depth. You have a beginning. You have a character.

All that struck me was the paragraphing. You've one unbroken block, and as a block, it doesn't differentiate between Alice's actions, or any shift of idea for that matter.

Try it like so then-- (?)

Alice rolled over in her bed and shut her eyes against the bright light of the morning sun that filtered in through her tiny window. She wanted to prolong this moment between wake and sleep, where she could still remember her dream. She tried to grasp at what she’d dreamed last night, but try as she might, all she could think of was the coming dreads of the day. And with that thought, dread, cold icy dread, slipped into her stomach and settled there like a huge stone.

Grudgingly, Alice sat up and looked around her room. It wasn’t very large; her bed barely fit in the corner, but it was full of things like her homecoming dance mum from freshman year, or her old guitar. Things that were apart of her. Her walls were so covered in posters and magazine clippings, that the purple paint underneath was barely visible. There was quite a large range of them to, everything from posters promoting Broadway musicals, to the Beatles, and even, though she was almost too young for it (almost) a large posters of the Jonas Brothers, with Joe very prominent in the center.

However varied these wall coverings were, they were all linked in theme, and that theme was music. Alice had played the guitar since she was 8, sung since she could walk. It was, without a doubt, her passion. As she looked around at the comforting familiarity of her room, the stones in her stomach dissolved. With a stretch and a yawn, she jumped out of bed and began getting dressed for the coming day.

Not that she cared what she looked like. Why should she? She would only be seeing these people for two weeks, and then she could leave and come back home to Garland. With a last glance in the mirror (it couldn’t hurt to look a little nice, she was a teenage girl after all) Alice grabbed her suitcase and headed down the stairs.

Stockmar,

That is one long paragraph that you go there, seriously. I stared and stared at it before even reading your story, and… that is not a good sign. However, after reading, I decided that it was not “so bad”. It was well-written, and a good intro. Only and intro, however, because it did lack a plot.

But, well written and presentable, and promising, but… you do need to split that huge chunk. Really. Apart from that, we have a very nice intro,though I have very minor corrections:


Quote:
(it couldn’t hurt to look a little nice, she was a teenage girl after all)
Comma up there.

Quote:
Alice had played the guitar since she was 8,
Type out the “8”.


Cheers,
Esme

Um...where's the conflict? Honestly, there's nothing happening. Really, ask yourself, does a girl waking up, contemplating a few things, and then leaving her bedroom make for a good read?

I would consider expanding this, and adding some type of conflict to make it interesting. I don't mean just physical violence. Any type of conflict, like an internal one. You hint at it towards the beginning, but you don't seem to do anything interesting with it.

So as it stands in its present form it's boring. If add more please PM me because I'd like to read what you've added.

[s]BlackGhost[/s]

I like it, though I found it a bit of a cliche. I only found a few problems:

Stockmar wrote:Her walls were so covered in posters and magazine clippings, that the purple paint underneath was barely visible. There was quite a large range of them to, everything from posters promoting Broadway musicals, to the Beatles, and even, though she was almost to young for it (almost) a large posters of the Jonas Brothers, with Joe very prominent in the center.

Stockmar wrote:Things that were apart of her.

Stockmar wrote: She wanted to prolong this moment between wake and sleep, where she could still remember her dream.