The Writers' Coffeehouse : Forum : Thirsty for critique


Thirsty for critique

7 Years Ago


Hi guys, I'm new here, actually joined writers cafe today. 
I've been writing on and off for a couple of years now. Mostly poems, but also a few stories and short stories. I'm not particularly good a writing, but sometimes I still daydream about becoming a writer.
If that is ever going to happen, even in my wildest imagination, I need to practice, and I need to hear other people's opinion. So, I am posting my newest  story. This is just the beginning, but I would really like to get some review. 
A short resumé; Beatrix seems to be a normal teenage girl, but she discovers that she is a witch/Wiccan, so she joins a coven to learn about magic, but she will discover, that Wicca is not what it seems to be. 
Her it is:

The sunshine dances like pixies on the water surface, for the day is about to disappear and soon, the night will rule. I inhale the air. There's something different about the air here. It's fresh and delicate, with a touch of salt. This place, at the rocks by the sea, is filled with memories. Happy memories, sorrowful memories, thoughtful memories, the list goes on. Nature is fully alive here. The grass is dry, yet pleasant. The rocks and seashells by the shore are pure joy and fun. And the ocean. The ocean is where my heart belongs. The powerful, yet gentle waves. The essence of this place calms me.
I stop daydreaming the moment Rocky sneaks up behind me. My beloved Border Collie has not yet learned, that I can sense him more than the other two legged creatures. The moment he jumps at me, I turn around and catch him.

"Aww, what a sweet dog, Rocky!"

I laugh as he tries to escape my grab. I know exactly when he's had enough, and let go. He lays down beside me, and I reach out to brush my fingers through his soft fur, and he is happily wagging his tail.

"Beatrix" suddenly, a soft, well-known voice reach my ears.

I turn my head to discover my dad, walking towards me, wearing his overalls, decorated with oil spots and holes. The used to be blue, but time has made them gray and old. It gives them some kind of personality, and they have somehow become a part of my dad.

"Dinner's ready"