The Urn (W.I.P.)

Hi, I’m toast and I’ll be dropping in for a quick review here!

First of all, you did such an amazing job! The elegant sentences, colorful vocabulary, and radiant adjectives definitely helped putting an impact on my reading experience!

Now, you said you’re looking for critique so let’s fire off shall we?
Before I get into it though, I’m not particularly best at grammar, so I’ll be looking for more tonal and rhythmic aspects of the story.

The first thing I’d say is that your sentences sometimes go on for a bit too long. This isn’t a negative of course, in fact alot of great stories have long sentences. For example sentences like,

Such a radiant maiden she was (and still is to me), despite all of her now fitting into the urn I keep on the floor to avoid its falling and breaking in the unlikely event of an earthquake or some otherly shaking.

Such a radiant maiden she was (and still is to me), despite all of her now fitting into the urn I keep on the measly floor. All because I wanted to avoid its falling and breaking in the unlikely event of an earthquake or some otherly shaking.

I intended to thank her for her help unknowingly given, and I ought to have finished my novel ere her passing, so she might have read the whole of it.

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: This was quite a powerful little piece here. You can truly feel the love that this person has for their bride here and the emotional weight is truly quite powerful in this piece.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Two months have passed since I lost her, and yet I still have not fulfilled her final wish. Perhaps I fear losing her in the physical sense. Such a radiant maiden she was (and still is to me), despite all of her now fitting into the urn I keep on the floor to avoid its falling and breaking in the unlikely event of an earthquake or some otherly shaking. However, I wish, too, to keep her high in some place of honor, although her safety must come first.

So young was she when she was taken; younger than me, although even I was merely a child when we met. Often (more often since she has been gone) I think of those times, for I long to feel so pure and glad once more. I am frequently reminded of a conversation we once had by the ocean on a day years ago, one which seems nearly fantastical now, as if she was purely a character within one of my many stories. She loved (or pretended to love, I suspect) my fiction, always asking me to publish my tales, although I would smile and tell her that they were not only unfinished but had no conclusion within sight. I am inclined to believe she knew, for her intelligence was unmatched even by me, but I never told her sincerely that all my writings began with her. She was true inspiration. She brought color and art into my heart and with her light cleared the shade from my eyes. I intended to thank her for her help unknowingly given, and I ought to have finished my novel ere her passing, so she might have read the whole of it.

“If I could go back,” I, many a time, have thought, “what else would I change?” The answer, perplexingly enough, is both nothing and everything.

If I went back to our first time together, knowing what I now know, would I run? Would I avoid the pain, or would I discover how to take her fate and leave her to bear my burden? She was a strong woman, and I often think that she would recover from such a hurt as I have felt (and continue to feel). If I left from the beginning of things, though, she would live fully, for if she had stayed with her family, I reckon she would be alive today. That life I might have lived, however, would not be so blessed by her beauty as this one has been.

My thoughts are often clouded in this way with such love and regret as I find myself under the stress of the overwhelming and increasing sense of loneliness and shadow lurking with persistence. I must admit it is difficult for me to live on in such a manner, although I feel guilty by saying so, for I should be thinking of and pitying her rather than myself. She was a lady with great potential, and that is lost now. She sang and danced, and her beauty was beyond comparable to any growing thing on this Earth. She was soft and kind and knew love in its purest form. She was an angel living within our realm, a glimpse of heaven, and I pity any who have never laid eyes on her and know that all who have will grieve forevermore. It seems now she has returned to the heavens from whence she came, and I dearly wish to see her again. However, I have not prayed for her revival, for I cannot imagine a being purer and higher than her.

I might say it began ere the time of our meeting. For days preceding I had been awaking from vivid dreams of a woman emerging from the ocean, from a wave as it crashed upon the shore. The woman was, of course, my lovely bride as I recognize her now, but during the period in which I had these dreams, I found myself quite muddled wondering who she might be. I had never before had a dream reoccur so often and clearly, and I thought it was such a strange one it was to do so.

Awake and fiercely independent (to a fault, as it often proved) was I, and I traveled far to spend my young years. I devoted one of my many trips to walking along the shoreline through dusk, for beaches were unfamiliar to me during my childhood, and I found them wondrous and graceful in nature. I grew to love the feeling of walking along the sand, soft as I imagine a cloud to be, and I found I could become lost in the deepest ideas this way. For that reason, I spent countless hours among the crashing waves. Most of these walks I enjoyed uninterrupted, for many nights were very cold, especially as the autumn winds poured inward from over the sea. However, I minded not and cherished my time in solitude.

Still, on a night seemingly identical to many others before, I witnessed her beauty for the first time. Walking through shallow water was none other than my dearest. She looked beautiful and brilliant before the darkness of the horizon, and her eyes shone brighter than each star alone. Her hair, though, was raven as the sky and reflected the moonlight in rays clear and white. I paused and stared, for such loveliness I had never beheld before. She would smile and splash the water before her. Then she would skip, and then she would spin and toss her hair. Mesmerized, I watched her move with such grace and elegance but also with the youth and giddiness of a child. This moment, even if I forget all others, is one that I will remember forever, for from this moment, I loved her.

gorgeous word library without sounding like you took everything from a thesaurus - i like how the story fluctuates like the narrator is just speaking to someone without making it sound like just a description
a little confused (correct me if im just dumb lol) but "I had never before had a dream reoccur so often and clearly, and it was such a strange one it was to do so I thought." i feel like there might be a grammatical mistake in this sentence

so excited for how this wip will turn out pls keep working on it i'm invested