Chapter 1

The gentle rurring of the rain filled my head. It bounced off it's walls and made me want to rip my hair out. But, yet I loved it. It was the only way to drown out the sadness, the fear, the anxiety. I rested my forehead against the window and sighed. My long black hair slipped from behined my ears and curtained my face. I heard the clang of pots and pans from the kitchen. My mother was cooking dinner. I sighed, knowing my cue was coming soon and stood up from my sanctuary. I fluffed the pillows on the window seat and slowly made my way out of my room. I took each step slowly, hesitating with foot in air.   

 

Surely enough, as soon as I reached the final stair, my mother called me to come and set the table. She was in her usual attire; a sleeveless polo, a navy skirt, black sensible shoes, and her grandmother's pearls strung regally around her pale neck. The familiar creak of the silverware drawer greeted me like it has for the last 10 years. I set three place settings on the square table, placed the vase of fake dasies on the china bureau, and adjusted the tablecloth. My father walked in the door said hello, pecked mother on the cheek and patted me on the back. We're not a very affectionate family.

After my father hung up his hat and coat we all sat down at our small table. In the center of the table was a bowl of carrot puree, to the left of that was a small plate of chicken, and behind that was a bowl of salad. We ate this every friday night religiously. My father tried to make conversation by asking if I made any friends at school today. Ugh typical parent questions......when your five. I responded by saying that I have nor want any friends. He sighed and the conversation switched to golf. I soon after escape. 

I stared up at the ceiling and counted the cold tiles. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and so on. I put my arms up on the sides of the tub and sighed. I carefully stood up and got out. I reached for a perfectly folded towel on the perfectly polished bar in my perfectly clean bathroom, in my perfect house, in my perfect neighborhood. I dried myself off quickly and put the towel in the laundry hamper. My silk nightgown caressed my slim figure and moved with it, looking elegant even on someone as bony as me. I pulled back the crisp white sheets that dressed my simple wrought iron bed. They were stiff as usual and smelled like lavender. I fell into a fitful sleep.

Author's Note

I am not using any dialog, the feeling im going for is as if we are listening in on her thoughts after they happen. I apologize for any of the tenses changing.

Reviews

[Misguided-Ghost]

This is good, I like it. You're a very discriptive writer and I like that. It makes the reader feel like they're actually there instead of feeling like you're watching it on a screen. Well done!

[Viva]

Great start but one suggestion, you may want to avoid telling the reader something directly unless you have to. The line "we are not a very affectionate family" seems too direct so maybe try conveying the lack of affection by showing more and actually illustrating the lack of affection. Again great start!

[Ross]

With a bit of editing (grammar, etc) you're off to a great start! Keep going

[Mia]

I loved it! It was amazing! I have one suggestion and grammar correction:

Ugh typical parent questions......when your five.

First of all, it should be you're, not your. And I would also write it like this:

Ugh, typical parent questions......when you're five.

It just flows better and then it doesn't sound as rushed.

Great job though, I"m going to read the next chapter. I also like how you're not using any dialogue, it's interesting but I love it!

Mia

[bornsavinglives]

I am a perfectionist and rarely enjoy other peoples work. I admit that as a flaw. But yours is well written and seemed to all flow together nicely. The odd grammatical error does nothing to detract from the interest of the story.
I am pondering where on earth it is going and hope to find out soon.