Wednesday, June 29, 2011


I thought I would post the beginning of a story that I wrote a while ago. This is the first of three parts in the story.~Elizabeth

Fortunately, no one heard me as I crept my way down the staircase. I opened the door, and it was then that I smelled it: freedom.

A tingling sensation that I had not had for years.

My body was welcoming it, craving for more of it. Though I had nothing but a twenty and a change of clothes in my backpack, I felt as if I was ready for anything that life could throw at me. I didn’t have time to think, I just ran. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that anyplace would be better than the orphanage. No one wanted me, none of the two hundred and seven families and couples had even the slightest interest in the gangly, untamable seventeen year old that was Monica Scott, or whatever my last name was.

Supposedly, my mother was a mere sixteen when she had me, a year younger than myself. Though I had always been angry with her with giving me up, I had to give her some credit, she at least had me.

As for my father, who knew who my father was? He could’ve been an eighty year old drug addict and drunkard for all I knew. But something inside of me told me differently. I was almost to the bend in the road when I saw it—a police car. Its lights were flashing an unmistakable red and blue. There was no way my escape could end so abruptly, this was, after all, my chance.
I flung myself into the muddy ditch, allowing the tall surrounding grass to hide myself.


  1. Wow, this is good. As in, I had no idea when I started reading this post that I would enjoy the story that much. Great job, Elizabeth!

    Personally, I did find it startling to see that she'd not had freedom for years--her "creeping down the staircase" made it sound like a normal house getaway. Perhaps if you expanded that part in the first paragraph and showed a missing guard or something (to explain why she had not been able to leave before). Could be just me, though.

    I think the second sentence might flow better if you cut the "it was" so that it read, "and then I could smell it: freedom."

    I love the concept of your second paragraph, though it is a fragment, not a full sentence. That could be easily fixed by adding the words, "It brought," or something similar to the beginning.

    "Nothing but a twenty" might be easier to read if you clarified what the twenty is ("a twenty dollar bill" or "twenty dollars" for example).

    This whole third paragraph is great--I really enjoyed reading it.
    Monica had come across as seeming thirteen or fourteen, though, so for me it was startling to realize that she was seventeen. The previous statement that she was in an orphanage suggested (to me) that she was younger, as in older times children were often let go by age 17.
    The story does seem to be set in today's time, but I have trouble fitting an orphanage into the picture. Have you researched whether there are orphanages in postmodern America? You might want to consider having her in foster care, though it could work well the way it is too.

    This fourth paragraph is my favorite part so far. As I volunteer at an unplanned pregnancy center, the situation of young pregnant girls is dear to me, so I immediately connected with that statement. I'm glad Monica does give her mom credit for at least having her. :)

    The thoughts about her father flow nicely from the previous paragraphs. For me, though, the second sentence ("But something inside,") reminded me that this wasn't a real story--my connection to it was broken, and I remembered that it was fiction so that she could have a gut feeling about her dad, that would later turn out to be true, etc. I think this could be just me again, but I love the story so much I don't like seeing even a sentence stray off of the originality and quality of the rest. :)

    I found the transition between her musings about her heritage to the present time police car to be abrupt. Putting in a paragraph break would help and, if anyone else finds the same trouble, a transitional sentence or phrase. For example, "Tripping over a loose stone, my thoughts were jerked back to the present." You could also use the police car itself to be the trigger.

    Overall, fantastic story start! I want to read the rest!

    I hope you don't mind me offering my comments. You're probably not working on this any more, are you?

  2. Thanks! You are very detailed, aren't you? Thanks for the imput, you have some extremely helpful things in it. I'm willing to revise my what I write, although I wasn't planning on editing this one any more.

  3. Typo, sorry! Without the "my" in the third sentence. :)