Creative Writing Assigment #1
I thought I'd post my creative writing assignment here for critique, hoping somebody will read this. It's a 200-400 word assignment, writing a short scene that could serve on its own or be a part of a bigger story and written for children and young adults.
Well, I have some problems with the 'plot' or lack there of. I also feel like the ending is abrupt and the beginning having little connection with the rest of the story in terms of fluidity. Any suggestions? Help? Critique? Much appreciated!
He grew up here. He had spent every summer here; head hot and covered by sun and toes spread into rich damp soil. When the clouds move in and the first chill breezes by, he’ll rattle his bones and try for dear life to keep himself together. But winter comes and he falls apart, just like the crystal white that falls from the skies.
It’s spring when he’s allowed to play with the kids and the first time he meets him. There was one boy, left eyebrow cut in half because once, the child ran into him and fell. He cried for five minutes straight until his mother came and picked him up. It was a few days before the boy approached him again, running around him in circles.
“Why are you so rough?” he asked, the boy’s fingers slithering up and down his skin. “It hurt a lot, y’know!”
I’m sorry, he thought, wanting to speak but he only shrugged a shrug that looked more like a shaking of his whole body.
The boy laughed, covering his head, “Yuck, you’re shreddin’! Gross!”
No, it’s not! I can’t help it! he cried, wordlessly and the wind bent his arm until it hit the boy’s shoulder playfully. He shook a little more, laughing as the boy frowned and brushed himself off.
“You leave your things e’vrywhere!” the boy accused, kicking at red and yellow on the ground. He picked some up and threw it. They watched the colours flutter away and back to his feet where the grass was dwindling away, the cold seeping in easier than yesterday and making his feet cold. He shivered and more fell.
“Cold, aren’t ya?” the boy said, “Mama said you go to sleep in the snow and wake up again when the sun gets back up. She also said birdies live in your hair.”
Really? It would explain the sleepless, itchy, nights.
“Yeah, but they fly south now.” The boy leaned against him. “You probably gots none of ‘em birdies in your hair anymore since it’s all fallin’ off!”
He nodded, watching more red and yellow with some green fall as a result of his movements. A voice called for the boy to go back inside because it was getting chilly.
“Coming, Ma!” The boy turned to him and saluted. “See ya tomorrow, Tree!”
See you tomorrow, Boy.
Well, I have some problems with the 'plot' or lack there of. I also feel like the ending is abrupt and the beginning having little connection with the rest of the story in terms of fluidity. Any suggestions? Help? Critique? Much appreciated!
He grew up here. He had spent every summer here; head hot and covered by sun and toes spread into rich damp soil. When the clouds move in and the first chill breezes by, he’ll rattle his bones and try for dear life to keep himself together. But winter comes and he falls apart, just like the crystal white that falls from the skies.
It’s spring when he’s allowed to play with the kids and the first time he meets him. There was one boy, left eyebrow cut in half because once, the child ran into him and fell. He cried for five minutes straight until his mother came and picked him up. It was a few days before the boy approached him again, running around him in circles.
“Why are you so rough?” he asked, the boy’s fingers slithering up and down his skin. “It hurt a lot, y’know!”
I’m sorry, he thought, wanting to speak but he only shrugged a shrug that looked more like a shaking of his whole body.
The boy laughed, covering his head, “Yuck, you’re shreddin’! Gross!”
No, it’s not! I can’t help it! he cried, wordlessly and the wind bent his arm until it hit the boy’s shoulder playfully. He shook a little more, laughing as the boy frowned and brushed himself off.
“You leave your things e’vrywhere!” the boy accused, kicking at red and yellow on the ground. He picked some up and threw it. They watched the colours flutter away and back to his feet where the grass was dwindling away, the cold seeping in easier than yesterday and making his feet cold. He shivered and more fell.
“Cold, aren’t ya?” the boy said, “Mama said you go to sleep in the snow and wake up again when the sun gets back up. She also said birdies live in your hair.”
Really? It would explain the sleepless, itchy, nights.
“Yeah, but they fly south now.” The boy leaned against him. “You probably gots none of ‘em birdies in your hair anymore since it’s all fallin’ off!”
He nodded, watching more red and yellow with some green fall as a result of his movements. A voice called for the boy to go back inside because it was getting chilly.
“Coming, Ma!” The boy turned to him and saluted. “See ya tomorrow, Tree!”
See you tomorrow, Boy.