Cloudy Skies in the English Countryside - Writers Forum

Fyodor · 04-15-2008, 06:13 AM

Lamenting grey clouds hung over the countryside of Surrey as rain drizzled down on the fresh green grass and the wind kicked up the leaves that fell to the ground. The surrounding environment was remarkable: wide open fields and rolling hills with many trees and shrubs. Various flowers of all colors ran up and down on both sides of the dirt road. There stood just one lone building in these damp fields, miles away from any town: St. Catharine’s Orphanage, a run-down structure that had a single tree out in front and was in desperate need of renovation.

There were many roof tiles missing and the once brilliant white paint now faded. All but one swing on the swing set were broken and rusty. The tire from the tire swing lay forgotten in the grass and weeds around the base of the tree. Many of the windows on the building were boarded up, some had cracks running up and down the glass.

Heather, a young girl with long black wavy hair and pale white skin, sat in the corner of the living area, looking outside at the drab weather. This kind of weather was so frequent during this time of the year, the children grew used to staying inside for this rainy season. Her icy blue eyes starred at the window, watching the drops of rain hit the glass. Over the past two years of living in this god-forsaken place, little Heather managed to make only a few good friends—she did not like being around all of the other kids too much.

“Heather do you want to play with us?” asked Conrad, a little red-haired kid. He walked up to her, followed by two other children.

Heather turned around to look at her friends. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel much like doing anything today.”

“Come on Heather, it’s your big day,” said the curly brown haired girl.

“I know, Jane, but I just feel like being alone today. I’m kind of waiting for something important.”

“Alright,” said Arthur, a boy with messy black hair and the oldest of the four, “If you want any company later, we’ll be here for you.” The children walked away.

This was a big day for Heather, it was her 12th birthday. She could not believe that she had already been in this place for two years—it felt much shorter. Heather got up out of her seat and walked into the foyer where she sat on the stairs, waiting. She sat there for what felt like hours until she could not take it anymore. She went to go find the others and as she did, Mrs. Joyce walked in the front door carrying an umbrella and a handful of envelopes.

The stout and authoritative Mrs. Joyce wrung out the dripping umbrella and put it away in the rack. She flipped through the papers slowly and patiently and came across something that she knew the watchful Heather might enjoy. “Heather,” she said in a sweet maternal voice, “it’s here.”

“It is?” Heather looked up with excitement and ran over to Mrs. Joyce, who pulled out a tattered envelope from the pile and gave it to the eager child. Heather took the letter and ran up to her room as quickly as possible.

Heather quickly shut her door, jumped onto her bed and opened up the envelope to reveal a smudged, shabby letter. She laid it out on the bed in front of her, gazed deeply at the smooth, graceful writing on the parchment and read.

April 23, 1892

To my dearest Heather,

Happy Birthday. I trust that this letter will make it to you on your special day. I think of you all the time as I sit here wishing that I could be with you again. You have no idea how much this hurts me, but I know what I did was right. I gave up everything for you, so you could be safe from that man—a man who isn’t even fit to wear the title “father”. There isn’t a moment that goes by that I ever regret ending his miserable life, even though I cannot see you anymore. It is good enough for me to know that you are now safe...that we are both safe and that we no longer have to hide those bruises of shame and abuse. I wish that I could hold you in my arms again. I don’t know how long it will be before I can see you again, but I will continue to write to you as often as I’m allowed.

Love Always,

Your Mother

Heather read the letter over and over again until she knew it by heart. She then placed the letter on her night stand, propped up against the lamp, and lay down on her bed to stare at the ceiling. A single tear ran down her face onto her pillow.

phurst · 04-15-2008, 05:05 PM

It was a grey cloudy day in the countryside of Surry as the rain drizzled down to (to or on)the fresh green grass and the wind kicked up the leaves that fell to the ground. There stood just one lone building in these damp fields, miles away from any town: St. Catharine’s Orphanage, a run-down structure that had a single tree out in front and was in desperate need of renovation. The somewhat dilapidated appearance truly showed just how badly the years have treated this once pristine edifice.(instead of telling the condition, show. roof tiles missing, a rain gutter hanging loose, a shutter akilter, weeds around the base, faded paint on the door. One window boarded up...

Heather, a young girl with long black wavy hair and pale white skin, sat in the corner of the living area, looking outside at the drab Heather. This kind of weather was so frequent during this time of the year and the children grew used to staying inside for this rainy season. (the last sentance doesn't read right. maybe delete the 'and' and make it a comma) Her icy blue eyes starred at the window, watching every single drop of water hit the glass. ( every single? I'd just go with ' watched the rain drops strike the window)Over the past two years of living in this god-forsaken place, little Heather managed to make only a few good friends—she did not like being around all of the other kids too much.(I am not a big fan of - Use sentences)

“Heather do you want to play with us?” called (said)Conrad, a little red-haired kid. He walked up to her, followed by two other children.

Heather turned around to look at her friends. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel much like doing anything today.”

“Come on Heather, it’s your big day,” stated (said)the curly brown haired girl.

“I know, Jane, but I just feel like being alone today. I’m kind of waiting for something important.”

“Alright,” said Arthur, a boy with messy black hair and the oldest of the four, “If you want any company later, we’ll be here for you.” The other (delete 'other')children walked away.

This was a big day for Heather, it was her 12th birthday. She could not believe that she had already been in this place for two years—(again - )it felt much shorter. Heather got up out of her seat and walked into the foyer where she sat on the stairs, waiting. She sat there for what felt like hours until she could not take it anymore. She went to go find the others and as she did (comma)Mrs. Joyce walked in the front door carrying an umbrella and a handful of envelopes.

The stout and authoritative Mrs. Joyce wrung out the dripping umbrella and put it away in the rack. She flipped through the papers slowly and patiently and came across something that she knew the watchful Heather might enjoy. “Heather,” she said in a sweet maternal voice, “it’s here.”

“It is?” Heather looked up with excitement and ran over to Mrs. Joyce, who pulled out a tattered envelope from the pile and gave it to the eager child. Heather took the letter and ran up to her room as quickly as possible.

Heather quickly shut her door and jumped onto her bed and opened up the envelope to reveal a smudged and shabby letter.( 3 ands. You can have one and only one unless the subject is tied like 'She had a glass of milk and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.' but you have 1 too many) She laid it out on the bed in front of her and gazed deeply at the smooth and graceful writing that was (delete 'that was')on the parchment and read.(this time you have 3 ands but 1 is okay. Still, it's one too many)

April 23, 1892

To my dearest Heather,

Happy Birthday. I trust that this letter will make it to you on your special day. I think of you all the time as I sit here, (no comma)wishing that I could be with you again. You have no idea how much this hurts me, but I know what I did was right. I gave up everything for you, so you could be safe from that man—a man who isn’t even fit to bare the title “father”. There isn’t a moment that goes by that I ever regret ending his miserable life, even though I cannot see you anymore. It is good enough for me to know that you are now safe...that we are both safe and that we no longer have to hide those bruises of shame and abuse. I wish that I could hold you in my arms again. I don’t know how long it will be before I can see you again, but I will continue to write to you as often as I’m allowed.

Love Always,

Your Mother

Heather read the letter over and over again until she knew it by heart. She then placed the letter on her night stand, propped up against the lamp, and lay down on her bed and starred at the ceiling. (and and and an and. You have to fix this re-curring error)A single tear ran down her face onto her pillow.

It is a soft and sweet story so I don't like it cause I like action, horor, and such but for it's genre it's okay. Maybe somebody who likes this stuff will give you better feed back. More show, less tell. Overall (except for the - and ands) it is okay.

Fyodor · 04-16-2008, 03:24 PM

Thanks, I'll have to get on some of those mistakes when I get time.

As for the dashes (--), those are something that I would prefer to use, so I will probably not be changing those.

nacreous · 04-16-2008, 06:12 PM

this was excellent. I really enjoyed it and would pay to read stuff like this. keep working on this. personally, I like to stick to three phrases in a sentence, but at times, if its really important, I'll break that rule too. good solid vocabulary here, good structure and very nice flow to the plot. great job, keep it up. One question - as an anglophile myself, I'd like to see more of this surrey countryside in the intro to this work, but that just my thing. good luck with this and all other words.

Fyodor · 04-16-2008, 06:38 PM

nacreous,

Thanks a lot. When I go to edit this I'll probably through some more description of the countryside.

Fyodor · 04-17-2008, 05:02 PM

I've made some edits to the story.

Hope you like it.

jjr tolken lover · 04-17-2008, 06:03 PM

This was a good peice
but i think you should make your first paragraph, or more importantly your first sentence more interesting. Try making your first sentence somewhat poetic to keep people reading (im not talking about metaphoric kind of stuff though).