Is the Beginning of My Story Good?
Question by Darby: Is the beginning of my story good?
Hello! Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve my story, and how you like it! This is chapter 1. Chapters 2 and 3 can be found at darblefig.deviantart.com
Home? I don’t think that’s what Rosie would call her new…residence. A house, yes. But not a home. She kicked off her black Uggs and went to the computer. She typed “www.dictionary.com” in the address bar. She entered “home” in the search bar and scrolled down to definitions.
“2. the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered”. Affections? That surely isn’t what Rosie was feeling right now. She clicked the red “X” in the upper right hand corner and went off to her new room. The pink/purple color combination was exactly what Rosie should have expected, coming into her dad’s house for the first time in five years. The flowers and butterflies covering the walls gave off the illusion of happiness and joy, which was the exact opposite of what she was feeling. She glanced over at the pink princess clock, and recalled using it back in 1999. When she was six.
Rosie grabbed the black ponytail holder from her caramel blonde hair and let her hair drape around her neck and shoulders.
“Rosie?” Her obnoxious dad, Drew O’Donnell, called from downstairs. “Telephone!” She rolled her eyes at her dad’s sorry excuse at familiarity.
“Coming,” She sighed, knowing Drew wouldn’t hear her. She slung her legs over the edge of her bed and trekked down the stairs. She snatched the telephone from the living room table. “Hello?” She asked in her smooth, quiet voice.
“Rosie!” She heard on the other line. “Oh em gee, you are alive! I can not believe you had to go move to Texas. That sucks!” Rosie recognized her best friend, Jasmine, on the other line. “I be they all talk like this!” Jasmine twanged pitifully.
Rosie forced herself to fake a laugh. “Oh, Jaz, it’s just so good to actually hear your voice. It is horrible here. It’s freakin’ December and the temperature is almost 50 degrees. And the air is super dry.”
“That’s so stupid. It’s, like, 27 here.”
“Oh, and you know what’s worse? My ‘dad’,” She did little air quotes with her middle and pointed fingers, even though Jasmine obviously couldn’t see her. “didn’t even bother to re-paint my room. So I still have the same pink and purple princess room.”
“Ouch, Rose. Better not be inviting anyone into that place!” Jasmine laughed, but Rosie remained silent.
“Yeah, right. Like my,” she lowered her voice. “devil of a dad would allow me to even meet anyone. He’s such a strict little…”
“Rosie!” Drew’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “It’s time for dinner!”
“Oh, lovely. Sorry, Jaz, my dad finished heating up TV dinners!” She did the same fake-excitement the cheerleaders at her old school use to muster.
“I’ll see you on Facebook, Rose!” And with that, Jasmine was gone. The phone blinked ‘5:47’ over and over, indicating that there wasn’t even a full ten minutes of her regular life to experience now that she moved back in with her father.
After a sickening dinner of re-heated mystery meat, Rosie retreated into her room. She tore off the rainbow “Rosie’s room!” sign from her door and stuffed it into her trashcan. What a horrible artist she was when she was six. You see, this house was once a home. But now, it’s like a torture zone. When she was six, her parents got divorced. Her mother and herself went off the live in Syracuse, New York. When Rosie turned thirteen, she began to get really curious about why her parents split up. Her mother, Samantha, explained that Rosie’s father was abusing her, due to his obsession with alcohol. Ever since then, Rosie has refused to speak to her father. In desperation, her father requested custody for a year. Since it was only a year, my mother didn’t fight too hard. She thought it’d be good for Rosie to spend “quality” time with Drew. Quality? Yeah, right. Especially because her step-mother was a shopaholic witch.
Rosie sighed and slumped onto her bed. Her feet hung off the end, the proof of a careless father. “That jerk really needs to buy me…” she whispered when she heard someone coming off the steps. She rolled over and covered her head with her pillow.
“Rosie!” She heard her step-mother’s high-pitched squeal of a voice. “Come on, I know you aren’t asleep. I’m not stupid.”
Whatever you say, Rosie thought. She removed her pillow and flipped her hair to the left side of her head. “What?” She sighed to Lacy, rolling her bright green eyes.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me. We need you to come meet someone.” Rosie didn’t even check to see if her step-mother left the room. Rosie had already jumped out of bed and fixed her hair and makeup by the time she heard her wanna-be parents calling her downstairs.
“C’mon, Rosie!”
Rosie thrust a bobby-pin in her hair to hold back her hair. Presentable? She looked herself up and down. She could imagine her friend Kylie declaring “OUTFIT CHECK!” in the back of her mind. She laughed at the sudden flash-back. And luckily, Kylie would d
Best answer:
Answer by obidane
Meh.
I read the first few paragraphs but couldn’t get any further. There’s just nothing here to interest me (admittedly, it’s outside of my usual genre, so someone else could easily find it fascinating).
Overall, it seems the prose could use some polishing, but it is by no means unreadable.
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