It's been 3 years since I saw her face. She stood before be, a young girl, long brown hair, a face like an angel and a voice of a goddess. "It's been a while, Josh", She said. "3 years, I missed you Lucy." I replied.... Another 3 years passed, we now both lay, clutching our hands together, hoping for the best. Not long after, we were still clutching hands, as I looked down at my struggling friend, who was more of a love to me. Dying in front of me. A small candle in the corner of lighted up the dark time. "I will see you in a while, My love", I whispered. It is the year after she died now, I was standing in the same place I usually do every Saturday morning. Mourning. Even in these weather conditions, where even my fingers were almost getting frostbite, I stood there. So I could keep close to her. We use to always go to the park near here, when we were youngsters. We use to play on that very swing just in the distance. I can hear her soft, beautiful laughter right now, as her hair blew in the wind. I use to always hold her hands when we went on walks through the meadows here, Watching her gaze up at me with the blue eyes she had. I hear her voice. Calling me every night now, as I lay in my bed. If it wasn't for him she would be here now. She told me she would be fine. I should of sacrificed myself, but she wouldn't let me, I didn't leave her. I couldn't. Her face, it was blank like his. He just shot her. No emotion, no nothing, just complete. Blankness.....it was like he didn't care that he had just shot the closest thing to me. He deserved to die right? Did I make the right choice. Is it all over now? Am I going to die myself....? - A little taster of a book I'm writing named: Bedroom lies.
Not a bad start. There are a bunch of spelling/grammar/punctuation/capitalization mistakes, so I would suggest proofreading. But I think you should continue it. It has promise.
Yeh the background to this is that a boy named after me met this girl called Lucy who he instantly fell I love with. Turns out that she is actually being forced into marriage with another guy, who Is jealous and wants him dead. Instead, Lucy saves him by taking a bullet, intended for him. Now he lives a heartbreaking life, trying to put together the pieces and make decisions on what was right and what he should do next.
The whole point of a book is to tell a story. Not to somehow tell something to someone that does something like telling things that entertain people like a story. I hope the point I was trying to prove is clear now. And in case it wasn't, you use too many words to say simple things. Critique is critique. If you're going to be smart with someone who's trying to give you advice, perhaps you shouldn't post here.
Royale, that was a very confusing sentence. But yes, I agree with him. For example: "…gazed up at me with the blue eyes she had" could be simplified to "…gazed up at me with her blue eyes". It may not seem like much but I can make your story flow much better. The little things make a difference.
Yes, I do agree with that, you shouldn't overthink your sentences too much. I do it all the time too