Klover

I'm sorry if this isn't where I'm supposed to post this or whatever, lol, I'm very new at this. I'm a very young writer and all of my teachers, parents, and friends have told me I am very talented. I honestly don't agree anymore, I have such trouble getting all my thoughts out and when I do, they're a jumbled mess. I have two story lines that aren't going anywhere, I need serious help with descriptions and how to make my thoughts go further. It seems as soon as I write it, it's bland and not interesting at all. Please ignore any grammar, spelling, puncuation, etc. mistakes, that is just a result of me trying to get all my ideas out.

I can take constructive criticism, so fire away! Thank you to anyone who
takes the time to read it, and especially to anyone who tries to help me!



The tip of the gun felt ice cold on her lips. The last thing she heard was a scream of the baby as the bullet sliced its way into her brain, killing her instantly.
"Aleena Grey! You may go in now." The noise almost shook me out of my shoes. I jumped up and ran into the room where my sister lay, holding her new born baby.
I scooped her up. Big, blue eyes and dark hair. So tiny, so frail, so magic... Callie. My little sister Cale looked up at me with a fit of disgust. "Look at her, Al. I told them not to show me. I told them I didn't ever want to see my baby. I told them to just take her away, take her away and give her to the Robesins where she belongs." My sister was putting her baby up for adoption. Being only 17, she felt she had no choice but to give her up. I begged her to let me have her, but she said no. She felt that it would be too much of a burden on me. Even so, she let me name her. Callie - her mother's name, Cale, and my nickname, Allie.
When we were little, I was my sister's blanket. I loved and raised her like my own child. Our mother died when I was 5, Cale was only 3 months old. Our father was an abusive alcoholic who was hardly ever home. We have an older brother, Isaac, who I haven't seen since I was 3 years old. He ran away when he turned 14. Our childhood was far from easy, sometimes my father wouldn't come home for days, leaving Cale and I alone in the house. I remember living on jelly and tap water for days, spoon feeding it to my baby sister when I was only a baby myself.
As I watched my sisters face, watched her light up that damned cigarette in a hospital, I saw how worn she was. She herself had light hair and big blue eyes. My sister didn't know or care who the father of her baby was, as far as I knew she hadn't even attempted to narrow it down. What did it matter? Would you rather a dead beat drug addict for a father, or no father at all?
Callie's adopted family, Tina and Tim Robesin, seemed like good enough people. I had only met them a few times, but they seemed caring and geniune. They were elderly, their late fifties early sixties maybe. They had only one biological son named Garrick who was long an adult. They had always wanted more children, but with no luck naturally, they decided to adopt. Callie was going to be a true joy for them. I could see the natural beauty of my sister shining through that baby's eyes already. My heart started to break as I thought of my flesh, my blood going to live with people who I didn't know. It was like this little angel was going to be ripped out of my life, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Just as those thoughts crossed my mind, a nurse stepped in and said, "If you're finished here, I'll take the baby." I bit my tounge. 'If I'm finished here?' I sadly took the one last look at my niece. It was too much to bear. A single tear fell, it splashed and exploded on her cheek. The sleeping baby yawned and moved slightly. I kissed that baby goodbye.
"I'm leaving," I told Cale, who was uninterested. "Get me some smokes on the way out, k Al?" I looked at her and felt that sadness, disappointment, and failure that I often felt when I looked at her. She saw the look in my eyes and knew what I was feeling. "Oh, nevermind. I'll get them my fucking self." This was a threat, I knew, because she was only 17 and even if she did lift herself from the bed and make her way down the street to the drug store, she wasn't of age and would never get them. I smiled and said "Good luck. I love you, Cale."
Walking out from the hospital I felt the fall-turning-winter air. It was late September, the leaves were falling all around me. Instead of driving, I had walked to the hospital. My whole life I had lived in a tiny little town called Ridgefield. It's in a little valley with a hospital on top of a large hill. As I walked down the grassy hill memories came exploding back to me. Cale and I sledding down the hill, helping her up on her little sled and watching her go all the way down before I went myself. Sitting here as a teenager sharing gossip and makeup tips. I remember my mother walking me out here telling me it was a very special place, one that I would never forget. She was right.



It's just a baby yet! This is only the first draft!

Emerson Darkness

please please please!!! take off that blue font, it be hurt'n an old man's eyes, yes it be...

I will be able to give a critique afterward