Still share it!
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OMG I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG THREAD 
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It’s alright-
I do the same as well so much
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bump! 
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This is such a wonderful thread that @Writers should take advantage of. If you have any piece of writing you’re working on, then share part of it and get some feedback from an audience for how you can improve.
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So I’m writing this piece for Wattpad and this is my first chapter (all that I’ve written so far, thoughts?)
Red Roses In December
In a little room in a small house, a grandmother sits patiently in a chair beside the small bed. A worried expression dawns her face as she looks at her hands which she is wringing nervously. She knows she shouldn't have done this, this shouldn't work. But she can only have hope. She's been sitting here since the moon came out, and now the early morning sun begins to rise as her gaze lifts to the window.
The sun touches the girl on the bed. She is the opposite of sunlight. Her hair is pitch black and her skin as white as snow. She wears a plain black dress. The only thing that has a touch of color on her is the red flower crown made of roses on her head. Kneaded into her hair as if it was always supposed to be there.
As the sunlight touches her closed eyelids they gently flutter open. The old lady’s eyes widen in shock. She wants to say something, she needs to say something.
The girl’s mouth open and a dry, strangled voice comes out of it, “Gramma?”
The chair falls backward as the old lady suddenly stands up, “It worked! You’re awake!”
The girl’s eyes dart around in confusion as she gently sits up in bed. She doesn’t feel any different. Her grandmother suddenly wraps her in a warm embrace. Mary can feel her grandmother’s tears trickling down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Granny.” Nothing has happened to her, has it?
She is here, she is Mary. Her granny is here. That’s all she’s really ever needed.
Her grandmother pulls away, wiping her tears and sniffling. She gets up from the floor and sits on the bed next to her.
“I know you’re very confused. I wish I could tell you everything.” Her grandmother says.
Mary twiddles her fingers in her lap. Tell her what? She doesn’t realize what has happened. And as she looks around the room, she fails to recognize it. Oh. Something has happened.
“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast. I’ll explain as much as I can then.” Her grandmother says.
Mary waits outside on the porch with a crust of bread, Granny telling her she would be out with some soup. She looks out at this world. Although the sun has fullen risen the sky is gray. All she sees is forest and grass. She stands up and leans against the balcony, peering more outwards. From there, her eyes draw her to a house. How hadn’t she noticed it before? It’s almost as grey as the sky… or else she would describe it as green. It looks like an old abandoned mansion. It seems she knows what mansions are. She looks beyond the house, and her eyes follow a pathway leading to a dark forest. It looks so magical… yet so dangerous at the same time. Even though it’s hard to see from the trees surrounding her own house, she can’t stop staring at that forest. So much so that she doesn’t even hear the door squeak open and Granny set the tray of soups down on the little table.
“That’s what I call the Screaming Oak. First lesson, never go there.”
The forest seems to rustle. The trees seem to move and whisper on their own accord. Something in the grasses moves. And she can almost see 6 eyes staring back into hers as she goes to look away.
“Why?”
“You can feel it can’t you?”
Mary looks out, holding out her arms as the wind sweeps through them, ratting the house. She shivers.
“The forest, and everything inside it is dangerous.” Her granny pauses briefly, looking at Mary before settling her own eyes on the forest, then quickly looking away.
“But… I think you more than anyone, will know that.” She says.
“Come inside, it’s getting cold out here. We’ll eat our soup inside.” She says, before turning around, taking the soups with her.
Mary looks out once more. Away from the forest and towards the strange mansion. She’ll have to remember to ask about that, if she remembers it. The wind shifts upwards, making her hair stand on end. She looks up, in the direction of the wind. Surprisingly, the roses stay rooted to her head. But she holds them down anyway. The wind pulls her eyes even more upwards and there she sees it… a clock… sitting dead center at the top of the sky.
“Mary!”
And then she walks inside, and before she can shut the door it slams from the wind. The wind rolls around, cackling, as it picks up leaves from trees, swirling around. It swirls upwards, towards the clock, yet can’t quite seem to reach it. Then it swirls back around, to the left of the fields, away from the Screaming Oak and out of sight, only rustling the old mansion before leaving the valley in stillness.
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I might post here later~
It sounds really good to me!
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So, uh, I kinda made a list of editing suggestions if you wanna look at it. I’m not a professional editor by any means, but I have had a fairly good grammatical education (I think). So yeah. You can use my suggestions if you want to @WritingWithStars.
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This sounds slightly awkward. I “which she is wringing nervously” part doesn’t flow as well with the rest of the sentence. I would rephrase it.
Kneaded? The verb choice just sounds rather strange. I think perhaps braided (tho I know this doesn’t have quite the same connotation) or blended might be better? Or interwoven in.
A stronger verb could be nice.
Springs to her feet or something similar might be better, and imply a stronger action. Also, this needs a period.
She refers to her grandma by two different nicknames? Unless the first one isn’t a nickname, but a misspelling.
everything,” her grandmother says.
^ just a lil grammar thing.
Same thing as before, but also another note: using a different dialogue tag will sound better. How does her grandma say this? Is a good question to ask when deciding what verb/adverbs to use.
Fully
More of the same.
Perhaps rephrase this to something like, “the wind slamming the door shut behind her?” Idk, just sounds less awkward to me.
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Thanks! I appreciate it. I won’t be taking all of it into account tho because um… I do have a slightly awkward writing style. I intentionally like things to sound strange and awkward… if that makes any sense. I do agree with you on most of the points definitely tho.
Not all my stories are strange like this story, but when I write short stories I like them to be strange. I try to have the words be “misplaced” to have the piece sound “off” and awkward.
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I mean, I don’t quite understand, but ok. I personally like things to flow smoothly because otherwise my brain freaks out rip. But I get it. :))
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I agree with like certain things you said like my word choice being off and grammatically writing things bad. I will be changing those aspects and I really appreciate the feedback on it. There is definitely a way for writing to sound strange yet still be grammatically correct.
I guess an example would be the wind thing. I still like the way I phrased it because, yes it is awkward, but I wanted it to sound as if we are leaving Mary’s perspective and going to the wind’s. The last word in the sentence is “wind” so it makes it more transitional when the perspective suddenly switches to the wind’s lol. But if you have another suggestion to make it sound less awkward and still have a way to transition then I’m all ears!
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I’m working on the first chapter of a dumb crossover fic/writing what I can with the inspiration I have! If anyone could give some feedback, I’d much appreciate it. This isn’t completely done, by the way, I know it ends abruptly.
Summary
Working in Dalaran won’t be so bad! Jesse had said.
You’ll be better off without Dr. O’Deorain. Were Angela’s kind words of wisom.
You’re lucky to still be working for Overwatch. An astute observation from Commander Morrison.
Well, now that Finn found himself being imprisoned in the underbelly of the floating magical city, he couldn’t help but curse every single person who had given him well wishes about his relocation. It was a punishment. Why else would Commander Morrison send him, a chemist, to the magical capital of the world?
Only a few weeks at his new station had passed when the city had been attacked. Attacked. Who the attacked Dalaran, home of the Kirin Tor, the most powerful mages in the world? A group of five idiots Finn had only heard of by name from his captor’s lackeys, apparently.
Arch-Villain Rafaam. Swampqueen Hagatha. Madame Lazul. Heistbaron Togwaggle. Dr. Boom.
What kinds of names were those? Names with presumptuous titles that just oozed arrogance. Finn supposed they had a right to be arrogant. They’d captured Dalaran fairly easily. Imagine that.
None of the names sounded very familiar - though Hagatha reminded him of something he’d heard about in Gilneas a few years ago. And Finn remembered he and Moira getting each getting an invitation from a ‘Boom Labs’ to join a team working on a ‘Boomsday Project,’ though Moira had thrown hers out and insisted that Finn do the same.
Idiots or not, Dalaran was taken, the gates of the Violet Hold torn open, the Kirin Tor defeated. And he was going to be stuck in a cell for the second time in the span of just a few months.
Now that the streets had settled down, the lackeys of those in charge had been able to do a through search for those who had not died or escaped the city - Finn had been found hiding away from the chaos in his apartment. Despite his pleas and promises that he could have some use to whoever was in charge of the whole operation, he’d been thrusted into the hands of another subordinate and taken below the streets to be locked away.
The blood elf holding Finn’s wrists so tightly was not any kinder than the others. In fact, he seemed less so - when those who had found him had seemed to be rather joyful about the city being captured, this one was… Bitter. Finn had only seen him with a scowl on his face, as if he was rather displeased with what was happening. Or, judging by his rather particularly chosen and decorative outfit, maybe he was displeased with the job he had been delegated.
There hadn’t been any reasoning with the lackeys on the street. Maybe he could reason with the blood elf.
“S-Sir,” Finn tried not to stutter, but, damn it, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be scared, but this was really happening and he couldn’t help but let his voice waver. “I-I don’t know what kind of operation you- your organization- are running, but- I can be useful!” Finn wanted to twist around to look at the blood elf to plead, but he figured that would get him into more trouble. “I’m a chemist- A good one! I’m highly esteemed in my field–”
Gods. It sounded like he was bragging.
“It’s not up to me whether you’re useful or not.” The elf responded, cutting him off; the first thing he’d said in response to Finn at all. They stopped. With his free hand, the blood elf opened the door of an empty cell and gave Finn a gentle shove in. “All that matters to me is that you get in a cell and stay there.”
Finn let out a huff. He was halfway between anger and fear; angry at his situation, at Morrison and Angela and Moira. And fearful for his life, considering he was now at the mercy of those who had been bold (or stupid) enough to take on Dalaran. He was about to accept his fate and sit in the corner of his new home when the elf spoke up again, perking Finn up.
“However,” He leaned in close to the bars, putting on a sickeningly sweet smile that reminded him of the way Moira would look before she said something condescending. “If you give me your name, I can put in a good word or two with the big man upstairs.”
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Bumping this thread.
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Here is mine that I need feedback on!
My arms and legs burn as I run up and down the training area. “Harder! Faster!” My body screams. “Father went through this for hours, you can do this for as long as him. You deserve it! You should have died, not him!” No matter how much my legs burn, I don’t stop. No, I keep going. Father, he was my role model. When he died, all I wanted to do was shoot his executioners. But…I have yet to do so. Until then, I train. I train for hours, upon hours. I may seem like a fragile girl, but within me, lives a monster. A monster, fills me. This “monster” is my emotions that I pushed down to make way for survival. Everyday, I lift weights, run laps, swim, I do everything I can to prepare myself for the torture that comes.
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Bump! Anyone up for giving feedback? I know that some people would love some feedback here! Make sure to keep this thread active 
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ok so this is 6 months late, but I can give u some feedback if u still want it?
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Alright, this thread is officially back open! Feel free to post any pieces of writing that you need some advice about! Don’t get upset at what is said! The users are taking their time to read and tell you what they think. Have fun!
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