She was known for her disappearances

Hello there! There's a lot I really liked about this like your use of the 'She' which added some mystery and a lot of nice emphasis and your easy, very conversational style of writing. I'm liking the girl's personality so far, but I found Troy to be a bit plain. You've got a good level of sentence variation, could maybe do with some better descriptions but in general, I like. Here's a few bits of advice:

She was known for her disappearances. I think it was the rush of uncertainty about whether or not anyone would actually look for her that made her do it. But it was always that same curiosity that brought her back. However, this time was different - this time she never came back. I shouldn’t have even cared, considering the fact that I had only had one legitimate conversation with her in my whole life. [This last sentence would be more effective if you split it into shorter parts, added some repetition for that sense of inevetibility. For example something like: 'I shouldn't have cared. We only had that one conversation you could call legitimate. It shouldn't have matter at all to me. But it did.']

It was the summer before I was a high school freshman. She lived in my neighborhood, in a picturesque house of green grass, white picket fences, and bird feeders – identical to all the others in this brainwashed cul-de-sac. It was three a.m. on a Sunday night and the only thing keeping me up was the whir of my hard drive. I had this intense fascination with the internet. While the rest of the natural, normal world slept, I stayed up jumping from one website to another storing each useless fact into the back of my brain for future use. [I little bit contradictory here. If the facts are useless, they have no future use.] I was in the middle of learning the origin of pink being associated with girls and blue with boys when I heard the screaming. [Ah but that's actually wrong! It started the other way around. Pink used to be associated with boys and blue for girls. Pink for boys because it was seen as a strong colour and blue for girls because it was dainty and delicate and it was representative of Mary. But anyhow, I digress...]

“Can I come in?” she asked, “Your room is the only one on the block with a light on and on the first story.” I nodded with what must have been one of the most confused looks I’ve ever created plastered on my face. She climbed through my window and looked around. “Nice poster,” she remarked with a weak smile as though it was completely normal to have climbed through a stranger’s window at three o’clock in the morning. And then, right when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, it did. She began to cry. In one second right before my eyes I watched her as her smile faded and was replaced with streams of tears. She let her back slide down my wall as she situated her self herself in a cross-legged position on my floor. I sat in silence as her hands cupped her face and her shoulders rose and fell with each whimper.

Descriptions

It's early yet so don't worry about this too much but some ncie descriptions really help to set the atmosphere of a story. Think about what's in the room, little details that will help your reader picture it, think about how the characters look, how they move, how they speak. What they wear. Think about unique stuff that will help your readers visualise them and relate to them. Like this one novel I read always described the MC's t-shirts which were a range of cartoon characters and I loved that because it added to her funky but slightly childish personality. Describe sounds, pitches and the other senses like taste, touch and smell. They're all very useful and sometimes it's good to make a check-list of them and just make sure that you've used at least three in each section.

There's not much to say as far as plot and such goes at the moment so I'll leave you with that but if there's another part you'd like me to check out, drop me a PM and I'll add it to the list Feel free to ask me any questions you might have and good luck!

Heather xxx

Hello there, Dance!

Here for my 399th review! *pops confetti*

It was three a.m. on a Sunday night and the only thing keeping me up was the whir of my hard drive.

I tore my focus away from the glare of the computer screen and got up to observe the situation.

I peered out my window only to find myself staring face to face with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Her eyes looked tired and her face worn but it all added to her stunning jagged beauty.

“Can I come in?” she asked, “Your room is the only one on the block with a light on and on the first story.”

"one of the most confused looks I’ve ever created plastered on my face."

"This is when our eyes locked."

She paced awkwardly around my room picking up various items to inspect.

I watched as a buzz of energy and life rushed through her freshly cried eyes. It was as if someone had just turned on the electricity in her body and who I saw before was a mere puppet of her usual, clearly happy, self.

And then she was gone.

Hey,

Welcome to YWS! I wanted to tell you that if you want to show edits in your writing, instead of posting it as a whole new comment, press the edit button at the top of the work. Also, I really like this story but it's a litttttttle bit cliche in my mind. It reminds me a lot of 'Paper Towns' a novel by John Green, and I'm definitely not saying that you stole the idea because so far they have a few similarities but are obviously different stories. I like this idea but try making it your own, make it original, give me an ending that I wouldn't have guessed. Also, it seems like you're going to be continuing this so maybe post it in the novels section next time, not the short story. About the actual writing so far, it seems very good but the ending seems rushed and it's kind of awkward for this girl Arry to come into his bedroom, stay for five minutes then leave in a rush. It's not realistic. Maybe have the MC be outside looking at the stars or smoking a cigarette or even eating grass, then introduce Arry and have her speak with him for a couple of minutes, while waiting for a friend to pick her up or something. It's a bit weird for her to dash into his house, through his window, chill for less than ten minutes than run away. Hope I helped a bit.

PM me if you have any questions.

~Jas

Thanks everyone! I took everyones advice and edited it some. I made the parts that I changed bold. Tell me what you think!


She was known for her disappearances. I think it was the rush of uncertainty about whether or not anyone would actually look for her that made her do it. But it was always that same curiosity that brought her back. However this time was different - this time she never came back. I shouldn’t have even cared, considering the fact that I had only had one legitimate conversation with her in my whole life.

It was the summer before I was a high school freshman. She lived in my neighborhood, in a picturesque house of green grass, white picket fences, and bird feeders – identical to all the others in this brainwashed cul-de-sac. It was three a.m. on a Sunday night and the only thing keeping me up was the whir of my hard drive. I had this intense fascination with the internet. While the rest of the natural, normal world slept, I stayed up jumping from one website to another storing each useless fact into the back of my brain for future use. I was in the middle of learning the origin of pink being associated with girls and blue with boys when I heard the screaming.

“I swear to God if you set foot in this house ever again I will beat you so hard you won’t wake up for a year!” Shit, I thought, this guy was angry. I tore my focus away from the glare of the computer screen and got up to observe the situation. I peered out my window only to find myself staring face to face with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Her eyes looked tired and her face worn but it all added to her stunning jagged beauty.

“Can I come in?” she asked, “Your room is the only one on the block with a light on and on the first story.” I nodded with what must have been one of the most confused looks I’ve ever created plastered on my face. She climbed through my window and looked around. “Nice poster,” she remarked with a weak smile as though it was completely normal to have climbed through a stranger’s window at three o’clock in the morning. And then, right when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, it did. She began to cry. In one second right before my eyes I watched her as her smile faded and was replaced with streams of tears. She let her back slide down my wall as she situated her self in cross-legged position on my floor. I sat in silence as her hands cupped her face and her shoulders rose and fell with each whimper.
At this point I guess I should have spoken, at least asked for a reason why this stranger felt it was okay to come into my room at this time of the night. But I didn’t…I couldn’t. I was secretly enjoying her company for some reason, even though she clearly sucked at first impressions and small talk. Then, suddenly it became too silent. Her crying had stopped. She looked up and forced a smile. “I’m Ari. Short for Array,” she said as she pushed an open hand towards mine.

I shook it and muttered, “Troy.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Troy.” This is when our eyes locked. I watched as a buzz of energy and life rushed through her freshly cried eyes. It was as if someone had just turned on the electricity in her body and who I saw before was a mere puppet of her usual, clearly happy, self. “Sorry about that,” she said as the eye contact came to an end. “You see, my dog just died. Very tragic.” She paced awkwardly around my room picking up various items to inspect. That’s when I realized my jaw was hanging open and I was just staring at her like an idiot.
“Who was that guy yelling after you?” I asked, “he seemed really angry.”

“What?” she responded, quickly whipping around to face me, seemingly flustered. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Must have been Johnny’s dad again over on Cedar Street. Johnny’s made a habit of sneaking out.” I was just about to respond when she continued with, “Alright, well it’s been fun but I really gotta go to bed. See ya later!” And then she was gone.

I think you have a really good story here. I like your writing style and the story is interesting. The only issue that really stood out to me was this part:

And before I even had time to look out my window and observe the situation, she came crashing in. She brought my lamp down with her, which broke upon impact.

Hello! Here for a review!

I think it was the rush of uncertainty about whether or not anyone would actually look for her that made her do it.

this guy was ANGRY

This time she never came back.

It was the summer before I was a high school freshman.

winder

she came crashing in.

especially a stranger who never quite got over his six year old self’s fear of the dark.

Hey Boo here!

She was known for her disappearances. I think it was the rush of uncertainty about whether or not anyone would actually look for her that made her do it. But it was always that same curiosity that brought her back. But this time was different. This time she never came back. I shouldn’t have even cared, considering the fact that I had only had one legitimate conversation with her in my whole life. It was the summer before I was a high school freshman. She lived in my neighborhood, in a picturesque house of green grass, white picket fences, and bird feeders – identical to all the others in this brainwashed cul-de-sac.
New subject, New paragraph. Keeps you from having exceedingly long paragraphs no one wants to read.
It was three a.m. on a Sunday and the only thing keeping me up was the whir of my hard drive. I had this intense fascination with the internet. While the rest of the natural, normal world slept, I stayed up jumping from one website to another storing each useless fact into the back of my brain for future use. I was in the middle of learning the origin of pink being associated with girls and blue with boys when I heard the screaming.

“I swear to fucking God if you set foot in this house ever again I will beat you so hard you won’t wake up for a year!” Shit, I thought, this guy was ANGRYThoughts get Italicized . And Try to stay away from starting your sentences with And, But, Nor, For, Or. Stuff like that.before I even had time to look out my winder and observe the situation, she came crashing in. She brought my lamp down with her, which broke upon impact. You use shit a lot. Mix it up, I'm sure not everyone just says shit. I don't. Also I have a problem with this paragraph. Its unrealistic. I girl comes crashing through your window? No one wakes up ? She doesn't get hurt?

“Shit!” she muttered as she gathered up the pieces and placed them on my desk. When glass breaks it creates a series of small and large pieces, also when someone falls on glass they get hurt.“Sorry, I’ll replace that. Ikea, right?” I nodded with what must have been one of the most confused looks I’ve ever created plastered on my face. And then, right when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, it did. She began to cry. In one second right before my eyes I watched her as her smile faded and was replaced with streams of tears. She let her back slide down my wall as she situated her self in cross-legged position on my floor. I sat in silence as her hands cupped her face and her shoulders rose and fell with each whimper. At this point I guess I should have spoken, at least asked for a reason why she felt it was okay to come barreling through a stranger’s window at three a.m., and especially a stranger who never quite got over his six year old self’s fear of the dark. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was secretly enjoying her company for some reason, even though she clearly sucked at first impressions and small talk. But suddenly it became too silent. Her crying had stopped. She looked up and forced a smile. “I’m Ari. Short for Array,” she said as she pushed an open hand towards mine.
You over say she a lot. I understand you don't know her name but try different things. That paragraph is way to long. Split it up, you subject does change. When people see a paragraph that long they usually get turned off to the story.

I shook it and muttered, “Troy.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Troy,” she said. She then locked eyes with me. I watched as a buzz of energy and life rushed through her freshly cried eyes. It was as if someone had just turned on the electricity in her body and who I saw before was a mere puppet of her usual, clearly happy, self. “Sorry about that,” she said as she broke eye contact. “You see, my dog just died. Very tragic.” She paced awkwardly around my room picking up various items to inspect. That’s when I realized my jaw was hanging open and I was just staring at her like an idiot.

“Who was that guy yelling after you?” I asked, “he seemed really angry.”

“What?” she responded, quickly whipping around to face me, seemingly flustered. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Must have been Johnny’s dad again over on Cedar Street. Johnny’s made a habit of sneaking out.” I was just about to respond when she continued with, “Alright, well it’s been fun but I really gotta go to bed. See ya later!” And then she was gone.