My first impression
You have a good idea here for a unique adventure. There are plenty of complications to keep the reader guessing for a while. It doesn’t have as much of the usual wordiness, repetition and excess description as most of us use in our early attempts at storytelling. The 'telling' style gets boring after a few pages.
What do I mean by telling? Here is an example of an opportunity for improvement, which may be worth considering:
The first task she got was connected with the kitchen where the chef needed a helper to tidy the room, or Elijah thought he did. (Even with the interesting phrase 'Elijah though he did', the author is telling us her first task rather than showing us through her (or someone else's actions) After six days of cleansing the most dirty surfaces Annabel had ever seen the chef said she irritates him, so she was sent to a girl who asked for another kid to help her with washing dirty clothes and sheets. The girl’s name was Susanne.(Here, you name Susanne. It is good to identify a character as soon as practicable, but here you told us here name. Would it work to just mention the name when introducing the new task?
Consider tightening to something like this:
The first task, in the kitchen, where Elijah thought the chef needed help, cost her six days of cleansing the dirtiest surfaces Annabel had ever seen. The chef, only irritated by her efforts, sent her to Susanne, a girl who asked for help washing clothes and sheets.
It's your story, but I think it will help if you avoid passive voice and eliminate as many unnecessary words as possible.
This segment grabs my muse and shakes its core.
The opening brings an unbranded smile.
The prize defies all logic and much more
The dream evaporates in ruckus rile.
But, even though the fragile shard is broke
with rude confusion clearly holding sway.
There moves the blur of doubt in which to cloak
all notions of the games these children play
Now is it true denouement at the end
or do we hold the story by a thread?
We watch the terror growing past the bend
And though the dream is gored, he is not dead
She floats in her surrender's sweet relief,
and knows that her respite will be but brief.
The Drak prepares for battle, damn the rules
This winning strategy could be but brief.
Here come the readers; all those feeding fools
dead sure they've found a new and budding leaf.
But, when their growling hunger steals the show
they make a mad dash down the other track
and all those strong resolves begin to flow
out through the door into the trash out back.
When all the strength and courage ebbed away
we turned to face the music. No, we ran.
That broken promise lost for one more day
when tossing those rejections in the can.
We writers see temptation gathering round
and settle in to see what's yet to come.
with expectation high, of what we've found
and forge ahead to hear the beating drum.
It seems you had an idea for a character to be revealed rather than explicitly described. That's a good approach, but here, the spelling and grammar errors undermine the story being exposed. We all have edit issues to deal with in every segment of our tales. Give this a polish and post it again. You may find better ways to draw the reader in.
We feel the salty winds; life's stinging spray
those tortured limbs, so twisted, torn and scarred;
with powered search for something more to say.
life sentries stand as Noni's silent guard.
She clings to rocky hopes. We don't know why.
Her tangled roots mine strength from strongest soil;
Those grotesque arms of fate reach for the sky.
Now, final words resolve her lifelong toil.
The Twist jumps in to take us by the hand;
It leaves us gasping in a rippling cheer.
You turn the yarn from good to simply grand.
Congrats upon the story we found here.
No regrets for her misdirected ways.
We see a tale with power, and it stays.
The metaphors like 'stop and see the stars'
prompt us to sit, and sip a whiskey sour.
Attention drifts to feeling lifelong scars,
then read the rhyme again, within the hour.
Goodbye…No time to squander on lost nerve.
Although such words can prove confusing when
a poet's long-sequestered need for love's reserve
goes public with a bright, well-guided pen.
And now, we see spilt milk—no words withheld,
until she knows he feels the same way, too.
He sits and waits. The secret silence swelled,
then shrank beneath the weight of her adieu.
He never said good-bye—he sat alone.
Her answer was the droning dial-tone.
You've done well as showing us the rainy day and the uncomfortable trip to the bank. I like the way you exposed us to the crowd and took advantage of hearing as the primary sense and the annoying sounds of phones, baby crying. You placed a good picture of the scene in our minds.
Nicely done. My suggestion would be to break the story into paragraphs to put a bit of white-space onto the page to improve readability.
Here, busybutterfly stirs up the flame
and make us check the trail beneath our feet.
This old reflection posits for a name
There is no path to freedom by retreat.
We see this path, long trodden by the mass.
That well-worn trail was built by long success.
We stand expecting wins on our first pass,
but sink beneath mistakes. My what a mess.
The merciless attacks won't bring renown,
but all must feel the heat along the way.
Our failure is the pathway back to town,
until we've found the rules by which to play.
We stand on past mistakes though, don't you know,
They give a place to start, and then to grow.
As often is the case when lies unfold
this story tells a tale that's wracked with grief.
She finds the life she's dealt turned dark and cold,
but finds a perfect foil to bring relief.
His every dream and scheme comes tumbling down,
She plays Rebecca's card. That's quite a smack.
"Please can't you see a little to renown?"
She points toward the door. "Now, don't come back."
He hangs his head and walks out with a cringe,
devoid of one more lie to fix the blame.
Where is the magic his lying binge?
Another fairy tale would do the same
'So, let me see,' he says. "I've flunked the test.
I knew that one of them would have to go.
The two, when kept apart, where all the,
The best just doesn't cut it anymore.'
The rose he chose, is wilted and decayed.
And falls in line with all the games he played.
Premeditated murder in their gold,
relentlessly their ruffles multiply;
face their frills and step into their fold;
it could be said each spring, 'I live to die'.
I brave the bludgeon of their buttered-cup,
pure innocence of spring that they portray,
for fluted frills I offer spirit up,
platoons of petals bear my breath away.
Are Iris, then, the witness to my death?
They know I only knelt for yellow kiss.
'A suicide!' declared the Baby's Breath,
'She gladly went the way of golden bliss!'
While Roses write the rhyme of thorny kill-
they leave a dearth of death by Daffodil.
Reviewer's innocence tossed to the wind
I search for bits left hidden 'neath the rug.
Perhaps I’me bent on ramping up the role,
bestowed on me by all those holes I’ve dug.
106
A toe in the water
Cinquains?
I feel the fire
an iron fist of verse
with stresses and Iambs aligned
What's worse?
This five-hundred-word segment gives the readers lots of information without 'telling' them anything, nor resorting to flashback.
There's no way to tell how this might fit into the overall storyline, as none is exposed. This segment, on its own, does a fine job letting the reader know where the story is heading.
Reviewer's innocence tossed to the wind
we search for bits left hidden 'neath the rug.
As though we’re bent on ramping up the role,
bestowed by those reviewing holes we’ve dug.
But buried ‘mongst the bits that we define,
are truths we thought we'd shucked forevermore.
Some shine there, just like berries on the vine,
reminding us of things we're searching for.
But hidden in your essay, strong and deep,
are minders of some long-forgotten gem,
showing we can grow and we can reap
a long-lost joy in finding one of them.
You left that secret dangling in our minds,
like one of those rare awe-inspiring finds.
This is a nice idea for a story segment, but you've certainly taken on a tough assignment for yourself writing in the second person. It is very difficult to keep the reader's interest with that style. Here, you've not only taken on the second person, but you've put it into the present tense as well.
It's not surprising to find other issues slipping up, too. The story opens with 'a person' who is later referred to as 'they'
I'm really impressed with your trying an approach that is so difficult. I'd recommend you start with either first or third person past tense. Try this tough stuff later.
The verse of Colossians 4:1-6
puts Safa on the cusp. (beyond the pale?).
You show a case of lessons; how to bleed
Will Aaron face the actions or derail?
The handshake monster empties out her soul.
But patience wins the day and drags her in.
We know not yet if either sees the role
of kindness as a teacher of the other.
No need to print this background to be read.
Safa knows him well, down to the core
This author lets us feel the things they said.
Aaron will stand out now, even more.
This in-depth understanding to the soul,
Will help to keep this lesson in his role.
We watch as Nothing climbs from salt and sin
This author shows us how to find the deed.
To spread the salt of wisdom from within
and shake a bit of grace to fill the need
The battle though, is hardly in the bag,
as growing life defeats a doubtful foe,
and spreads the calm of bond without a sag,
to challenge all the truths of what we know.
By middle lines, the Nothing lost its way.
As Something strong comes forth to spread the word
We see the thoughts (They leave much yet to say)
Some sour notes persisting so I've heard.
As Nothing fade to naught, you hold the line
The word in salt lives on and will do fine
I admire your courage at attempting to write this story segment in the first-person, present tense. First-person, is tough enough for a new (or old) writer, but adding present tense, makes it very difficult for anyone to hold both POV and tense. Even so, you almost made it all the way. Finally, though, it caught you as it almost always does and the ending switches to past tense.
Another difficulty with that style is that, although it might help to make the reader feel closer to the action, it makes it hard to identify the protagonist, which makes it harder for the reader to wrap themselves in the tale.
All in all, this is a great idea for a story segment, but I would prefer to see it in third-person or
at least in past tense.
To be honest, and this has nothing to do with your writing talent, the first thing I did when I opened your chapter was wince.[e:shock} I ask that you do something about the formatting. No line breaks make it nearly impossible to keep one's place. Consider your readers; reading a story should never be a contest of wits. Leaving it the way it is will most assuredly cost you reviews. I address this again further along.
Rating and rational:
I rated this at four stars. Not because of the good or bad aspects of it but because I was unable to keep my head in the story with the lack of formatting.
The nightmare of this search for what is real
leaves each of us to struggle on our own,
to find those learning moments where we feel
there’s more to be discovered than a groan.
Now, should a bolt of insight steal the show,
hold to the upside seen along that track.
Grab all the strength you can from writing’s glow
And let us see a yarn you can’t take back.
The stories from the past, we here to stay,
And cannot ever be shoved beneath the rug.
Those half-done tales have never won the day,
just add some more to all those holes we’ve dug.
But here, we hope support which you have found
will help when help us navigate our way around.
I'd like to see a longer piece of this segment. That would give us a chance to see how the story is developing.
I like that you drew on various senses to tell us what the owl was up to. We feel the breeze, hear the smallest feet, poise to strike and you left with a surprise in the small voice.
My first impression is that you have a terrific idea for an opening. You begin with 'a feeling of dread', but you tell us about it instead of showing action or thought to indicate the dread.
That dread could also provide an opportunity to develop an internal conflict for the main character. But it does not. The POV character is not identified, one of issues a writer encounters when writing in first-person.
What I liked most
Introducing the character's feelings of concern that he/she might be being followed shows us that we may be in for an adventure, and you have given us a hint at something to look for
Suggestions and technical concerns:
I'd be drawn in more directly if the character was identified at the beginning. That would be easier to do if written in third person and if you let the issue develop and resolve to wrap up the opening chapter.
Rating and rational:
I rated this piece three stars because you have what appears to be an opening for an adventure story but have only allowed us to see the boring, scene setting part of the tale.
You've grabbed us by imagination's core.
And shown us sights that we've not seen before
The POV of one who someone gone's all right.
We find the thoughts revealed are a delight.
Eternity grabs on. We feel the cold,
and then, another redirected way.
There moves the blur of promise in the hold,
now wrapped up in games our memories play
In true form of denouement at the end,
Tomorrow starts without me, as was said.
The ghostly POV slips ‘round the bend
and though he’s not alive, he is not dead
Our minds breathe out a sigh of sweet relief.
The sadness of the loss will not be brief.
Where is that path, long trodden by the mass?
That well-worn trail built on delayed success.
We stand aside and marvel as they pass,
then sink beneath the weight of blake's big mess.
Though William Blake at length earned great renown,
he earned but few regards along the way
and couldn't find a pathway nor back down,
but now, we've found the rules by which he'll stay.
We stand upon past giants, don't you know,
which gives a place to start and then to grow.
Here, Ana’s bits of wisdom stir the flame
and make us check the trail beneath our feet.
This old reflection posits for a name
There is no path to freedom by retreat.
Where is this path long trodden by the mass?
Those well-worn trails were built by long success.
We stand expecting wins on the first pass
but sink beneath mistakes. My what a mess.
The way of antique art may bring renown,
but all must touch the base along the way.
As failure is the pathway back to town,
until we've found the rules by which to play.
We stand upon these past dreams, don't you know,
They give a place to start and then to grow.
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