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Is this good? It's the beginning of a story I was thinking of.?

I'm just a kid, but I like to write and I want to know how I can improve and what I should keep writing. Thanks! Emmy, half-asleep on the couch, was watching Vacation with the Howes, one of her favorite movies, on a hot summer day. If you saw her, you might wonder why she wasn’t outside with the other thirteen-year-olds, but she had her reasons. Darren (her little brother), once again, had done something he was told not to do and he was not aloud outside. Emmy’s mother was out in the garden, picking flowers and vegetables for her shop and no matter where he was, Darren had to be watched because of his habit of getting in trouble. Why can’t he just go outside with Mom? Emmy wondered. He is only five. Does she really expect him to always be a little angel? By the way, It’s way more boring picking flowers then it is to be in the house with T.V., internet access, and a 13-year-old girl, or should I say slave who has been told to play the part of a storyteller, a playmate, a chef, and more if asked by the punished monster they call a human. Her mother was taking a very long time in the garden. Emmy noticed this because her movie was almost over. Usually she didn’t have to watch Darren that long because her mother didn’t take very long in the garden. She was fast with her hands just like her daughter and watering plants, harvesting plants, and giving plants Nutral, a natural liquid with nutrients that she made herself and sold in her shop as well would only take her half an hour at the most, even with her humongous garden that took up most of the gigantic yard. Emmy decided that everything was just fine and she waited for a song to finish the movie. Emmy heard a loud cry. Darren was running outside, as his mother told him not to do, when he knocked something over. The door slammed and Emmy jumped up. It became very hot and all that she could see was red and orange. Emmy couldn’t move, and even if she could, flames were surrounding her on all sides, so she wouldn’t be able to get out. Al Emmy could think was, "I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die." By the time any help came, she would be long gone. The fire was closing in on her but she felt paralyzed by the burns she already had. But she had to get out somehow. She had to defeat her burns. She had to defeat death. Ray-er! Ray-er! Ray-er! No sound could have been more welcoming to Emmy’s ears. The sirens of the fire trucks gave her the strength to roll to the center of the opening, to give the firefighters the most time possible to save her. Emmy felt great pain when her burns rubbed against the soon-to-be burned rug. She smelt smoke, ashes, and her own sweat, but something strange was happening- even as she saw the fire burning, felt her face sweating, the smell was dimming. Emmy could only see flames, ready to eat her up, and then a helmeted face, and then nothing. The book would be mainly about her trying to get back to a normal life with her burns and loss of one of her senses (haven't decided which, yet) Or i this a better plot: After that chilly day of February 29th 2004, my father would never be able to see again. My sister would never be able to hear again. My brother would never be able to walk again. My mother would never be able to live again. And none of us would ever be able to be the same again. And all this because the roads were a little too icy, a little too rough. Because the guardrails were a little too rickety, and the driver behind us was a little too drunk. All this because our fates were a little too close, and none of us could stop it. One year later, on March 1st, I was sitting in my room, crying over a picture of Mom, beautiful and radiant, ready to see her. I took out the sharp knife and held it to my throat. Angie opened the door and ran to me. Before she got to me, I cut my throat, the knife going through me like it would through soft butter, and it was over. “Mom, you look fine, just go! We’re going to be late!” I screamed up the stairs three years later. I would have been seventeen three days ago, but I was still in the body of a fourteen year-old, with the mind of a fourteen year-old, only wiser, knowing what a mistake I made those three years ago. Not to say that I didn’t like living with Mom in Limbo, but I missed life and I knew I would have eventually gotten to see her. If it weren’t for me, Mom would already be in heaven. You see, Limbo is the place where everybody goes and has a meeting with God and Satan, and they decide where you go. Mom had to wait for her meeting with God, and she had finally gotten it half a year ago. He had thought she was a wonderful person and said that he couldn’t wait for her arrival. She told him she had a daughter who had killed herself. Suicide was a sin, God said, but Mom said that she wouldn’t go without her. God understood but did not like to let people who had committed 3rd degree sins in their lives, and suicide was one of t :) Thanks! I was thinking the second was a little more interesting, too, but I wasn't sure. them. Today was my meeting with God, and if he decided against us coming to heaven, we would have a meeting with Satan, and if our meeting didn’t go well, we would be stuck in Limbo for five more years before we had another meeting with God. We ran out the door of our house, a small home with a white picket fence and black shutters. I would have enjoyed living in a house like that on Earth, but I just wanted to get on with my life (or death) now and be where I was going to be for the rest of eternity (that is, unless I ask for another meeting and wait five years in Heaven or H-E-L-L). We walked to the center building, a huge chapel where the meetings with God were placed and next to it, a regular building where the meetings with Satan were placed. We sat down in the front aisle behind a dozen other people. The door to the meeting room swung open and the first person in line smiled and walked towards it. The door slammed closed when he was completely in. One down, eleven to go. A About five minutes later, the door swung open again. The second person quickly stood up, straightened his back, and walked to the door determinately. After about two minutes, he came back out again, slumped shoulders and eyes looking to the ground. “Mom,” I asked, “Why did the first man not come out but the second did?” My mom looked at me seriously. “The first man went to Heaven.” She said. Now the third person, a brunette woman of about thirty, was in for about thirty seconds when the door opened again, and the woman gone. Three more people went, the results various, when a blond little girl, maybe six-years-old, walked to the door alone. I watched the door for ten minutes until it swung open again. The little girl walked out. She was not going to Heaven. If God didn’t have mercy on this little girl who had died so young, why would he have any mercy on me, a 14-year-old sinner, a girl who had offended God? I tried to ignore my thoughts, but I couldn’t help but be nervous. I didn’t want to have to meet Satan, and I didn’t want to have to go to a place that I felt bad about even saying. H-E double hockey sticks is not the place for me. Finally, it was going to be mine and my mother’s turn next. I crossed my finger and soon got up. We walked into the room I had been fearing and the door swung closed with a snap. “So, this is Kathleen and Shea Halings? Well, normally I don’t even accept anyone who has committed a second or third degree sin, so you consider yourself lucky.” I starred at the majestic figure towering above me. His face glowed with such wonder and hope that I was stupefied. The breathtaking sight of Him (or Her, because God kept changing His or Her appearance so that I could see each only evanescently) made me stutter as I spoke. “Y-yes, God, I feel extremely lucky.” God bent over and closer to me and said, “Good girl. Now, you committed a third-degree, eh? So why should you go to Heaven?” I felt myself shaking. Sorry, I just realized it was cut off from where I wanted it to be.

Public Comments

1. hmm i like the second one better the first one in the beggining is kinda boring until the fire scene i think your a great writer and keep writing cause its gonna get you a log way in life. email me cupcakeluvrz96@aim.com i wanna hear more of your stories please! :] thanks
2. Definitely keep writing. The more practice you get, the better your writing will be. Right now, it needs a lot of work. Your spelling, grammar and punctuations must be addressed. Every scene in a story must move the story forward. Do not get stuck in the mundane day to day scenes where nothing is happening. Experienced writers know that they should skip the boring parts. Keep practicing.