I like To Write
New member
Okay, my mom wants to see my work because I've been working on a story and obviously she's going to be helping me get a literary agent and I'll be showing her my work soon (just the first bit because I'm a perfectionist and don't want her to see the stuff I haven't gotten time to scour over it for revising). So, with that being said, here's the first tidbit. Tell me what you think so I won't embarrass myself in front of my mom:
Her hands worked with disturbingly beautiful grace. The jump rope knotted on the rusted metal of the water pipe and looped on the end that hung below the pipe. A stumble. A sniffle. A silent prayer. She looped the open end of the jump rope over her neck, a small shiver from the coldness of the yarn trembled through her spine. Her eyes squinted tight as she slowly cinched the rope tight around her jaw line. A string of whimpers ruptured the silence of the basement.
“Stephanie!” a boy shouted from the other end of the door up the steps. Her eyes darted to the door as his fists pounded against the wood and then began to pool with tears. She snapped them shut.
“Now I lay me down to sleep,” she mumbled softly.
“Stephanie!”
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
He pounded his fists against the door.
“If I should die before I wake,” she continued, tears streaking down her dirtied and smudged face.
“Open this door right now!”
“I pray the Lord my soul to take.” She took one last glance at the door knob, studied the lock. Engaged. She looked down at her tattered sneakers as silence began to creep back into the room. No more pounding, no more crying, she felt weightless in the muted basement. The door continued to vibrate with each of his pounds and her tears kept flowing, but it hardly mattered any more.
And then the silence was fractured by a gasp, a crack, and the sickening sound of the wooden stool splintering on the concrete floor. And in a flash, it was over.
~*~*~*~*~
What can I fix to make it better? Anything else I can improve on!? I know it's not much, but bare with me here. And please go easy--I'm only twelve and far from professional level.
Her hands worked with disturbingly beautiful grace. The jump rope knotted on the rusted metal of the water pipe and looped on the end that hung below the pipe. A stumble. A sniffle. A silent prayer. She looped the open end of the jump rope over her neck, a small shiver from the coldness of the yarn trembled through her spine. Her eyes squinted tight as she slowly cinched the rope tight around her jaw line. A string of whimpers ruptured the silence of the basement.
“Stephanie!” a boy shouted from the other end of the door up the steps. Her eyes darted to the door as his fists pounded against the wood and then began to pool with tears. She snapped them shut.
“Now I lay me down to sleep,” she mumbled softly.
“Stephanie!”
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
He pounded his fists against the door.
“If I should die before I wake,” she continued, tears streaking down her dirtied and smudged face.
“Open this door right now!”
“I pray the Lord my soul to take.” She took one last glance at the door knob, studied the lock. Engaged. She looked down at her tattered sneakers as silence began to creep back into the room. No more pounding, no more crying, she felt weightless in the muted basement. The door continued to vibrate with each of his pounds and her tears kept flowing, but it hardly mattered any more.
And then the silence was fractured by a gasp, a crack, and the sickening sound of the wooden stool splintering on the concrete floor. And in a flash, it was over.
~*~*~*~*~
What can I fix to make it better? Anything else I can improve on!? I know it's not much, but bare with me here. And please go easy--I'm only twelve and far from professional level.