I am working on my short story today and thought it would be nice to get some feedback. Positive comments and criticism are equally welcomed.
Here is the sample of writing. I invite you to read it and let me know your thoughts– does it intrigue you or hook you and would you keep reading the story?
Short Story Snippet:
It was the middle of summer, sometime in July, when I had a waking dream about my Grandmother’s land. As a child I would frequent her home along with my mother and younger brother. It was during these same summer months years ago that I had connected to her land, the same place that I now found myself slipping through in a dream as I slept in the comfort of my own home, with my own family, and on my own land. Something was wanting for me to return there and connect again.
As my consciousness opened through the dreamscape I was brought back to this place of being that I knew quite well. I was back in the magic and the spirit of Grandma’s vegetable garden. As a child I never really put too much thought into understanding or appreciating the land that was my Grandmother’s. It was always just there. The hill that rolled down a grassy slope of earth and gave home to the orchard of apple, cherry, apricot, peach, and plum. The large black walnut tree that dropped curious green balls every September or the little raspberry plant stationed nearby that produced peculiar orange colored berries that I could never resist. My grandmother was sweet and attentive to her land, and I wish I had taken more of that in as a child. But sometimes not all things are understood or appreciated. Just experienced. And as a child I was inwardly caught up in experiencing myself vs. experiencing the world. Aware of the single moments of consecutiveness and less aware of how it all tied together and that there was indeed more to be aware of in the world but also on that land of my Grandmother.
So, I found myself awake in the dream and standing at the edge of Grandma’s garden. My toes just touching the deep earth that was home to so much here and that first row of vegetables I now noticed sprawling before me. The dark green of their leaves moving almost as if in words to say through the gentle garden air, “There’s more life to be shared.”