Well, about half a year ago, I decided to try my hand at writing a story, or at least an introduction to one. I was recently browsing through my old word documents and came across them again, and decided to post them here so that I might get some constructive criticism, as I know I am not the best writer in the world.
Here is the first one I did:
The petitioners roamed outside, waiting and anticipating the moment when they may become victorious in their tedious battle of opinions. Chants and rhymes escaped their all too enthusiastic mouths, and rose to a cloud of steam above them into the chilly air, like a spirit released from a corpse.
Miss Alton stared out of her window at the minuscule people below, grasping signs and banners, blending their voices into one, single amplified giant. She sighed heavily and clutched the shining locket that hung around her neck on a thin golden chain.
Her office was surprisingly small, despite being the legal owner of several car factories. Being wealthy was enjoyable to an extent; intimidating the poor and having the ability to live in complete luxury at her fingertips. It almost felt as if she was a step closer to ruling an empire, not that that was anything she particularly desired. She chuckled to herself then sighed again. Clicking open the polished golden locket with her frail, trembling hands, she viewed for the first time in two years, the tiny black and white photograph of her deceased husband, Edward Alton.
A feeble tapping noise sounded from the steel office door. Swiftly, wiping the single tear that had rolled down her cheek, Miss Alton removed the locket descending from her neck and hid it inside of her top drawer. ‘Come in.’, she said almost sternly, and returned her gaze to the group outside her window.
Slowly but surely, the door opened and a man dressed in a bleached white shirt with a straightened red tie, and ironed black trousers approached the old woman at her desk. His hair might have been chestnut in colour, if it were not for the amount of gel that slicked back the shade. He was a thin man, aged twenty or so and wore a pair of expensive glasses, which magnified his nervous blue eyes.
‘Miss Alton’, he said almost whispering at first, and after receiving no reply, not even a gesture of acknowledgement, he said it once more, a tiny bit louder.
‘Miss Alton, in my opinion, you really aught to call the police and do something about these blasted petitioners.’
‘Please dear, call me Sarah…’
‘My apologies’, said the man, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his forehand. ‘Sarah. If we don’t do something quickly, I’m afraid things could start to get a little out of hand.’
I never really continued it because, in all honesty, I don't know what will happen next due to my bad planning at the time.
Maybe if an idea strikes me I will continue it. ^^
The second piece I wrote was a little intro based on a thought I had about pennies, and the fact that one pence could have been owned by hundreds of people:
Have you ever picked up a penny, looked past its rusted, red surface, its simple uselessness, and considered the places it has visited?
It may have sat in the retired pockets of the elderly, or embraced the fragile hands of the young. It could have journeyed around the world in a luscious leather wallet, or perhaps had been tossed onto the icy, gritty pavement, left to drown in the rain.
Have you ever sat, perhaps on that mossy bench in the park, and viewed any old stranger in the same way?
They may appear to be objects, perhaps even obstacles that you come across every day. They could be heroes or villains, poor or rich; but each of them, every single being in this lifetime, holds a story, an experience. which may have changed their lives forever.
So there you have it. As I said before, any constructive criticism is welcomed; after all, it can only be beneficial.
Also yes... I think I might use paragraphs when they're not needed too much.