Water Glass

Story written by Via-Anghel Magahum on Thursday 12, November %15

Member Avatar
A short story from a creative writing assignment. I didn't really like it, but I thought I should ask for suggestions.

Overall Rating: Not Rated

This writing has not yet been rated and therefore this information is not yet available.
“A spinster would always be scorned at the village”. The dark cloak hid the wrinkled face of her as she reached down to pick up the apples she dropped out of her baskets. The muscles had worn out from the birth of five stillborn children, all from five different men that left her five times. The images of their pale faces, so innocent, yet impure from the lack of warmth from their skin. No pink cheeks or cries to the heavens to fill the birthing chamber. A frown faded into the aged features, her ghastly nose scrunched, her dull brown eyes faded over into a glassy texture, shattered but still in the sunlight seeping through the clouds. Her daily walks were accompanied by loneliness. The solitude in which she grew accustomed to. No one to acknowledge her. Occasionally she wasn’t forsaken. Sometimes depending on the day there would be grimace of disgust, or scorn when her hood falls down from the wind. Youth had the town in it’s grasp for value. Nothing else seemed to matter to the heads of the townsfolk. Youth was always needed for ladies to gain success in their life. Youth means beauty, fair skin, smooth to the touch, joyful eyes, thick, colored hair. Youth meant marriage, men loved beauty. Youth meant children, healthy able bodies capable of producing sons to fill a happy home. While she was young many years prior, her ambitions kept her from what mattered most. Her father was at fault for that. He was scorned too for the way he raised her. It wasn’t until it was too late that she discovered just how wrong he did her. Young ladies don’t need alchemy lessons. Young ladies don’t need tutors for seven different languages. Young ladies don’t need to be adverse in politics and law. She had no teachers for what she really needed; keeping a balanced home, singing, sewing, being what she was supposed to be. When she was young and foolish, she threw her future to the dogs for an impossible and ridiculous dream. A young lady could never be a doctor. She was lucky to have been able to attend medical school for a singular year. It took her father’s death benefits to afford that useless year. Now she had no life, all that waited for her was the rivers of the Underworld. By the time she got around to the duties and wants of what she acquired at birth, she was old. A woman in her thirties could surely not produce a child. Her hair started to gain paleness. Her skin, no longer unblemished but now filled with scars and other ghastly features. Her nails broken, her teeth starting to rot away; just like her life. It was by some miracle that she found men who considered wanting to be with her. Reasons she never knew why of course. They all left though for some pretty thing with a full bosom and broad hips for birthing. A stillborn child cannot please a father. A stillborn child can’t do anything but exist in his mother’s guilty and shameful heart. To be young again, to have a chance to make things right would be like finding a tall glass of water in a horrible drought. One can only hope

Rate This Submission

Please take the time to rate this writing once you have read it. Our ratings system allows people to know both how popular the writing is, and how well the general populous of the site thinks it is written. This also allows the writer to have feedback about their writing, so they know if they need to improve their technique, or if they're on the right track.

The system allows you to vote on several aspects on the writing. Refer to the help text below each aspect for an explanation. Consider the different aspects carefully, and submit your vote using this form. It will be instantly weighted with the other votes given.

Depending on the writing type, give your opinion on the overall plot if it is a story, or the concept of the writing if it is abstract such as a poem. Does it seem to make sense, strike a chord with you or seem a well chosen concept? Did the author stick to the concept or did they change mid-thought?
Did the author use words and descriptions that allowed you to visualize the scenes portrayed in the writing? Did the feelings of the work stir your emotions as you read it?
Were the words spelled correctly? Was proper punctuation and grammar used? Could you easily understand sentences or did you have to re-read lines several times to understand what was meant?
Depending on the writing type, how did the writing flow? If it's a story, did it have a smooth, easy to follow flow? Did the flow of events make sense? If it's poetry, did the author stick with the syllable flow for that writing type? Did the lines rhyme properly if a rhyming device was used?
Did the author use the same words over and over or did they use a broad vocabulary to get their exact point across? Could better wording be chosen then what they have used?


Leave a Comment

Please Login to Post a Comment.
  • "The solitude in which she grew accustomed to." - This is an incomplete sentence. You have a few of these in here.

    Now, you capture the loneliness and tragedy of this life. And you capture it well. You could easily expand this, putting more detail and more of a timeline into it.
    - November 26 2020 19:48:34
    • @kt6550 thanks for the comment. Are there any more grammatical errors? For some strange reason I'm good with grammar when critiquing others work, but not with my own. How do you suggest I expand it? Should I delve more into her childhood? Any ideas?
      - November 30 2020 16:24:23