Ok, this is the start of my creative writing for school and I was wondering if anyone could give me any tips. I know i'm not the best at creative writing so please don't be too critical 
Thank you
The mist was like a radiant and gauzy fabric blanketing the earth. In the distance I can see a pair of headlights trying to fight their way through the mist. The roar of the engine comes to a halt. Grandads fingers helplessly thumbled around his worn seat, to unlatch the seat belt from its prison. His door squeaks loudly as he opens it, and he lifts his old fragile body out of the car. As soon as he steps outside the cruel cold winter breeze whips at his face which was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. As he slowly approaches me, he stops to observe the water troughs where the tadpoles are busy wriggling their way to frog hood. He looks up as he feels a few drops of rain rolling down his cheeks. There are dark grey clouds threatening overhead. His eyebrows wriggled when he frowned, fighting each other across the bridge of his nose, like two furry caterpillars. His dark mahogany hair was greasy and hung down over his piercing eyes, which were glistening like black beetles under all the hair. Deep wrinkles trace rivers across his forehead and eyes, which reflect many years of life. Suddenly heavy rain starts falling from the sky like a thousand hooves pounding against the ground. His lean long legs heaved towards me, striding further and further apart almost breaking into a run. His feet were hitting the pavement with dull thuds. “How are you feeling?” His soft voice was an oxymoron to his rough and rugged looks. The fresh rain on his cheeks glistened under the light, like the most enchanting of pearls.
Thank you The mist was like a radiant and gauzy fabric blanketing the earth. In the distance I can see a pair of headlights trying to fight their way through the mist. The roar of the engine comes to a halt. Grandads fingers helplessly thumbled around his worn seat, to unlatch the seat belt from its prison. His door squeaks loudly as he opens it, and he lifts his old fragile body out of the car. As soon as he steps outside the cruel cold winter breeze whips at his face which was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. As he slowly approaches me, he stops to observe the water troughs where the tadpoles are busy wriggling their way to frog hood. He looks up as he feels a few drops of rain rolling down his cheeks. There are dark grey clouds threatening overhead. His eyebrows wriggled when he frowned, fighting each other across the bridge of his nose, like two furry caterpillars. His dark mahogany hair was greasy and hung down over his piercing eyes, which were glistening like black beetles under all the hair. Deep wrinkles trace rivers across his forehead and eyes, which reflect many years of life. Suddenly heavy rain starts falling from the sky like a thousand hooves pounding against the ground. His lean long legs heaved towards me, striding further and further apart almost breaking into a run. His feet were hitting the pavement with dull thuds. “How are you feeling?” His soft voice was an oxymoron to his rough and rugged looks. The fresh rain on his cheeks glistened under the light, like the most enchanting of pearls.