Okay...I'm not really sure how to start, but here goes. This story is sort of a blurb at the moment. It's a thought I had and I wrote it down before I forgot and am thinking about continuing with it. I have some ideas, but not many, so I wanted to see what kind of advice/constructive criticism you might have for me. I don't have a title yet, but sometimes you don't think of a good one until later on, so I don't mind waiting. However, if you have any ideas thus far, it might be nice to hear them.

Also, I'm going to be modifying it grammatically as I go and I'd like to know if you think it sounds better this way. (All you have to do to know how it sounds with the real words: just think cruder wording/more cussing.)

I will probably be using this thread to post poems I've written as well, I'm just not sure when that will be because I have to type them up and I need to draw pictures for a few of them. I'd like advice on them as well, when they are posted.

[I didn't create the character or the storyline based on any other books or stories I've read.]

This story takes place in a fantasy setting. They use wagons and horses and the like to get around (if they can afford it.) There are dragons, elves and other creatures, fae and otherwise. It might have some romance but I haven't decided on that point yet. As I've stated it's an idea I had and so don't have any other solid characters besides the ones mentioned. (Character names may change. I'm not set on any of these.)




The Drabble (since I have no title right now.)


Splendid, a teenage girl by the name of Fern thought grumpily. She pushed tawny hair behind her ears and her hazel-eyed face was set into a look of annoyance.

It was a gray day with large black storm clouds billowing overhead and moving fast. Rain spattered the bare dirt roads, turning them into slushy, brown masses. She saw other villagers pile into their small cottages, ushering children ahead of them. Mothers pulled clothes from the lines where they’d been hung up to dry earlier in the sunny morning. An older man ran in from the fields around the clutter of houses covered from head to foot in mud. In the distance, Fern heard a loud clap of thunder and there was a slight flash of light against the horizon.

And here she was with her right boot sucked down in the brown goop because the stuff had spilled into a hole in the road.

She tugged.

Fern’s foot separated from the boot and she saw it sink below the surface while struggling to maintain her balance. She was flailing her arms uselessly when…

Squilsh.

“Drat.” She cursed out loud, thankful no one was around to hear and cringed as the mud soaked through the heavy stocking and froze the unprotected foot.

Deciding that since she was there anyway and that it might be a good time to fetch the lost boot, Fern bent to grabbed and yanked it out of the mud with a noisy Squeeeechplop! She promptly fell onto her butt and let out an undignified noise of surprise. She looked at the boot and slammed her free hand against the mud, sending it flying all over that side of her rough woven dress.

An air bubble rose in front of her and popped in her face.

She stood and took a step.

Squish.

“Sometimes…” she began, taking another step.

Squinsh.

“…I hate…”

It began to rain heavier, sending water pouring into her eyes.

“…living out here.” She finished, grumbling.

Oh, if only her mother could see her now. Cursing like a farm boy, covered in mud and outside on a rainy day when she should have been inside already. It wasn’t her fault that the sun had been shining not an hour before with no clouds to be seen. Nor that she’d decided it might be nice to go pick wildflowers (which she’d long since abandoned since they hadn’t been worth hanging onto) in the uncropped fields behind the small village where she lived.

Her mother was dead though, having passed when Fern was only six. Her father, a farmer himself, who took care of a few small acres back in Dalem, a fair week’s ride from Rasthen, where she stayed now. He had sent her off to help her aunt and uncle. She remembered saying that he couldn’t take care of her, what with the farm not providing enough for both of them, her brother and the couple others who cared for it. He had kept her younger brother behind to teach him the roped of being the owner as the man had fathered the two children when he was well into his forties.

• [Note:] I'll post a warning in the title when this story is updated. Plus, more of the first chapter will be posted on this with the rest of it.

I like what you have so far ^^. It's quite in detail. So continue it and let us all read it polarys ^^

:D I like it. One thing though. Her foot would not soak her stocking, the water or mud would, so It sounds a little weird to say, "...her foot soaked through the heavy stocking..." It would instead be something like, "...the water (or mud XD) soaked through the heavy stocking..."
That's just my two cents though. Great job with it. =3

See, that was a typo. I meant to type in "mud". >> -Goes to fix it.- Thank you, madam.

Hmm... sometimes people use specific themes and or well-known things to give their story a title. Transformers: Animated was supposedly going to be called Transformers: Heroes. That would've worked had they kept it (the title) because one of the recurring themes or ideas in that series was heroes. Catcher in The Rye was named thus because of the main character's (Holden Caufield) use of this poem. It works for that story.

Alright, thanks. ^^ It might be easier for me to wait until I'm done with it though. So I'll decide then. :3 Thanks again!