For all teenagers. What do you think of my writing?
The door knocked twice. The old man got from his chair beside the kitchen table and opened the door.
“Hello,” A tall man, in a smirked shirt smiled as he placed a grey rope into the old man’s hand. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Dan?”
The old man grinned with his head drooping forward then closed the door.
He had something else on his mind; an image that hovered in his head since the day his daughter left him.
He could feel cold wings fluttering against his arms; the angel of death approached him, tiptoeing towards his chair.
Everyday he could feel the black wings drawing closer.
However, today, the black wings stroked his body gently, summoning his spirit bit by bit.
Mr. Dan placed the stool beside the table at the living room. He bowed down against the couch, dipped his hands between the pillows and took out the remote control. After pressing it, the TV droned with a dance song. Mr. Dan smiled and the remote control slipped down from his fingers, sounding over the wooden floor
Tagged with: angel of death • bit by bit • black wings • couch • dance song • fingers • google • kitchen table • living room • old man • pillows • remote control • rope • script type • spirit • tall man • text javascript
Filed under: Old World Bar Stools
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the idea is good… but the writing isn’t. sorry. maybe i can help?
1) the door doesn’t knock, someone knocks on it.
2) if someone is talking, you don’t capitalize it… "Hello," a (not A) tall man… blahblahblah
3) what’s a smirked shirt?
4) gray not grey
hope that helps… I don’t tell you any of this to be cruel, these are simple mistakes I made when I started writing, too.
happy writing
It’s good. the beginning sounded kinda meh, but the rest was good. I wanna keep reading!
The old man heard someone knock on the door. Then he heard it again.He got up from his chair beside the kitchen table and opened the door.
“Hello,” a tall man, in a striped (?) shirt said, smiling as he placed a grey rope into the old man’s hand. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Dan?”
The old man grinned, his head drooping forward, then closed the door.
He had something else on his mind; an image that had hovered in his head since the day his daughter left him.
He could feel cold wings fluttering against his arms; the angel of death approached him, tiptoe-ing towards his chair.
Everyday he could feel the black wings drawing closer.
However, today, the black wings stroked his body gently, summoning his spirit, bit by bit.
Mr. Dan placed the stool beside the table at the living room. He bowed down against the couch, dipped his hands between the pillows and took out the remote control. He switched on the TV, to be met by the drone of a dance song. Mr. Dan smiled and the remote control slipped down his fingers, sounding over the wooden floor