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Old 11-02-2003, 05:11 AM   #1
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Allusearna
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The Children's Garden

I’m looking for help on this one. It’s not writing as I want it… well, not quite true, but it just doesn’t feel right to me. What do you think, and do you think its worth continuing? I’d really appreciate your help on this one, thanks.


The Children's Garden

Three small faces pressed themselves to the east window, noses flat against the glass. It was early, and today marked the first day of spring. Everywhere the world was awakening. Birds were starting to sing and flowers were beginning to open, greeting the morning sun. Becoming impatient, the eldest lifted the window. In wafted the smells of spring, the smell of freshly cut grass still damp from the night’s dew, the scent of flowers newly arisen and of sap as it leaked from juicy leaves. The three grinned delightedly at each other, waiting. They waited for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually the sun could be seen, the sky still a myriad of beautiful coloures. It was time; the three could greet the dawn.

They had risen before the sky had started to lighten, and dressed very quietly by candlelight. Now they creped, barefooted, down the nursery stairs and out into the dawn. They were silent as they ran across the lawn, suppressing their squeals of delight as their little feet crushed the dew-laden grass beneath them. The ivy rustles as it was seeped back and their feet went pitter-patter as they hurried down the concealed stone steeps, and having all jumped over the overgrown milkweed at their base, the three paused. They had now entered their own realm. A place forbidden to adults, where all times were fair and joyous, and the only chores and lessons there were things to be looked forward too. They had entered the children’s garden.

The garden had never been made for the children, nor even formally gifted to them. It had fallen into misuse years ago, too out of the way for people to visit for the pleasure, and not level enough to be of any use to the ladies of the house. In time, even the old gardener began to forget it, and when he retired his son ignored it completely. So the children’s it became, they being the only ones who ever cared for it now or even remembered its existence. They had cared for the garden, retaining its wild overgrown feel, in the way of children.
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)0( I do not understand,
For all the good that I do,
All the love that I give,
I am judged, hated, hurt,
For the name of my religion,
And a star upon my breast. )0(

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Old 11-02-2003, 11:46 PM   #2
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Not bad. You have some agreement and tense issues to deal with there. Might want to tight up the parallel passages there, let them flow a bit more. Resolving those issues may make it sound better in your mind. Have someone else read it out loud to you, it'll help you find where it becomes choppy.

I can't comment on if it's worth continuing on. There's no real hint at where the plot is going yet. It sounds like a nice opening to something. Maybe the home is being sold, and the children displaced? The new gardener wants to level it and make it into a cabbage patch? Who knows!
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Old 11-04-2003, 05:14 AM   #3
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Thanks for you comments. If you've read my story 'Meditation' in the short story thread, then this was meant to be of a similar style, except in third person. It was simply meant to describe a part of my life with not much in the way of plot development. Instead concentrating on the more spiritual aspects of the story and my souroundings.
I'm reviewing this to look at the issues of tense you mentioned and am planing to iron out any 'choppyness' and will continue it and see where it goes from there...
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)0( I do not understand,
For all the good that I do,
All the love that I give,
I am judged, hated, hurt,
For the name of my religion,
And a star upon my breast. )0(

Tiro narn nîn
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