Will you please READ my SHORT STORY? I know it's a tad long but no one else cares. :[?

Question

Please, tell me what you think and constructive criticism is welcomed! I thought this turned out pretty good. It's how I feel a lot of the time about myself. You can skim if you have too, and don't be afraid to tell me what you really think! But don't be too harsh! I'm only 13. ;) I just wanna know if it's good for my age and if I have any talent.

The Porcelain Harlequin

I sat in the little, white room. It had again been painted to conceal the crimson. The hidden secrets, the lies.

I covered my ears as the haunting giggles began. The jester sat against the wall farthest from me, sneering. Distant bells chimed, growing louder, until the sound became piercing. I squeezed my eyes shut and suddenly the noise silenced. I looked up to see if she'd moved. No, she still stared, her eyes boring into my flesh like daggers. Unblinking, accusing. I ignored her.

Frilly, bleached curtains, billowed against the wall distracting my challenging glare. Had those stains been there a second ago? I pushed myself up along the wall, hoping, praying that the window would allow a chance of freedom.

Iced tears began to roll down my cheeks and splattered on the floor turning scarlet as I took in the bricks. The bricks were there, the ashen bricks that sealed me in. So taunting they were. Granting me a sliver of optimism and then ripping it away.

Something fluttered against my back, I wrenched around quickly, teeth bared. Ready to fight her. Mere playing cars wafted through the air, carried by the breeze that came from the window, as impossible as that was. I almost chuckled at my fright, but this wasn't a place for laughter, only tears.

All cards were face down, except hers...The joker. They sank down, and I got a clear view of the room again, as the hungry colorless floor devoured the deck. The room felt as if it were expanding and I shrinking...Smaller, smaller. My insides ached as I waned. I tensed every muscle as the agonizing twinges tortured me. I felt I would lose my mind at any moment but, at last the punishment ceased...Much to my dismay. After all, I did deserve it. I liked it...craved it, even.

My head reeled as I tried to pick myself up, I almost toppled over from the lightheadedness. And there she was. Standing on the far side of the pearly chamber, opposite of me. Mimicking my every move, imitating my woozy staggers mockingly. Disoriented and dizzy I stumbled across the room toward her. She folded her arms across her chest and stuck her tongue out, only adding to my smoldering rage. I will get her this time, I vowed bitterly, perplexed by how much hate I had for the shallow clown.

Suddenly, there was something biting my right hand. Stinging like venom but very precise. I gasped at the sight of my fingers twisted around a vengeful blade. My heart began to beat like a war drum, my pulse sped up dangerously, and I was deafened by the blood thudding behind my ears. I urged my legs forward and allowed my lips to curl up into a deadly sneer.

But as I advanced upon her I noticed something glimmer in her left hand. Another knife? She was prepared? But...how?

I raised mine, she mirrored me perfectly. For some reason I stalled. Memorizing her features before I killed her, before I, too, died. Like there was something hidden in her face, behind all that makeup. A secret...Dark and ghastly. Something...no someone I knew, or once knew before I was lost to this room.

Her plump, scarlet-stained lips puckered, ready for the battle. Her ink smeared eyes narrowed, provoking me. Her slender brows drew together, crumpling her smooth, porcelain skin. Ivory like the surroundings I was trapped in, the world that I'd lived in for so long. The world that so cruelly ensnared me each and every day. Erasing all my memories except the bad.

I reached out to touch her cheek, to trace the crimson circle that she painted upon it. She cringed under my fingers, her skin colder than snow. She smirked, winking at me devilishly before the tears poured from our eyes, tears of blood, remorseful tears, we stabbed at each other in unison. Everything faded to black. There was a lingering crunch, a tinkling sound...Like broken glass. Then I opened my eyes. Where is the pain, I wondered. I looked around to discover a blurry, white heaven. But how? I deserved to be burning in the flames of h**l.

As the images sharpened I realized that I was back in the little, white room. The porcelain harlequin's eyes still on me. I gaped, bewildered at her broken form. And then the pieces were pulling themselves back together forming a square the size of the black space that had possessed the wall's absence. She was perfect and back to copying my every move. My reflection tormenting me endlessly.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please do not use without crediting me/ asking for permission. I doubt anyone would want to but c'mon it's just not fair! Please ask first.

Copyright © The Last Harlequin

Answer 1

wow... very deep, very dark imagery for one so young.  but over all, you describe things extremely well, i like your word choice.  the little details are good too.  i found the pause where "I reached out to touch her cheek, to trace the crimson circle that she painted upon it. She cringed under my fingers, her skin colder than snow. She smirked, winking at me devilishly before the tears poured from our eyes, tears of blood, remorseful tears, we stabbed at each other in unison." a little awkward imagining it.  with dagger poised to strike you reach out an touch her face? with the other hand? did the dagger waver with indecision, or were you set on killing, recognizing her or not? also: "And then the pieces were pulling themselves back together forming a square the size of the black space that had possessed the wall's absence."  i love the WAY you say it, but its a little hard to understand.  i get that these are the pieces of  HER, but it also sounds like she is the wall...or is that what you meant?  but all in all it was quite incredible, thank you for sharing.  keep writing, hon, you have quite a gift.

Answer 2

     First of all, I promise not to use your story.  I think it's very good, especially for a 13 year old.  Yes, it could be improved upon, but you can do that yourself on re-writes.  The spelling's very good too.  I'd say you certainly have talent.  It requires polishing, but you're very young yet.  Most certainly you should keep on writing.  And read all you can.  See how the pros. develop plots and use dialogue.  Just keep writing.  Practice, practice all you can.  Very well done.

Good luck

Mike B

Answer 3

WOW... AMAZING this is so descriptive and absolutely amazing!

It reminds me a lot of an Edgar Allen Poe style of writing

Great:)

Answer 4

Well, I got that part.  It is the scattered glass of the mirror repairing itself, right?

For your age it is absolutely amazing.  It's more of a scene than a short story though.  Not that it matters.  "Porcelain Harlequin" is a bit of a mouthful, with such similar sounds.  There are some things that could be cleaned up a bit but really, it's a fabulous job.

It's very sad that you feel this way at such a young age.  So trapped and self-loathing.

Have you heard of NaNoWriMo?  check it out, you should join.  www.nanowrimo.org  See you there! =)

Answer 5

ur writing is too smart for ur age

lol

very intelligent and i love it

so far sooooo good

keep it up =)

Answer 6

i enjoyed it very much. keep writting!(=

Answer 7

Wondeful story! I love it! Keep writing ^^

Answer 8

that was definitely interesting. i enjoyed it, it was creepy, yet thrilling at the same time.

As i was reading, i was simply waiting for the moment when the narrator realized that her enemy was herself, definitely different , but in a good way!!! Good job and good luck!