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Q&A: What do you think of my story?

Question by : What do you think of my story?
Elma’s shadow drifted down Redville’s dark streets. She raised her eyebrows and twisted the sides of her lips downwards whenever the image of Vladimir, pulling out his dagger and dipping it in his chest, ran into her head. Even the image of Edward’s Gustav son as he cried over a faceless body, made her shiver and shake her head.

In her heart, Edward Gustav held a special place and she would do anything to protect him and his family.

She stopped in front of a two storey wooden house, bending leftward as if it was about to fall on its side. It was The Gustav’s house.

She knocked the door twice. And as she waited for someone to open, she turned and examined her long, pale face inside a puddle of water on the flagstones. Then she stroked her orange, flowing hair, and smiled.

Her chest straight and her shoulders relaxed, she knocked again, this time, the door shook under her knuckles.

“Who’s there?” a shrill voice spoke from behind the door, then an eye appeared at the peephole.

“It’s Elma.”

The door flung open and a slender woman wearing a green sleeping dress, frowned at Elma. “What brings you at such a late time?”

Elma smiled and without permission, she headed into the house.

“The place hasn’t changed.” She said, surveying the living room.

A small lantern, lit with a green candle hung down from the low ceiling. A round, three legged table stood beside the fireplace, where Edward Gustav used to sit and read his favorite medieval history books.

“I need to see Gustav.” Elma said, “News that concern one of your babies.”

She walked to the other end of the living room, and smiled at the four babies that lay sleeping on the creamy sofa under the window. She brought her face closer to the babies and surveyed them. Then she examined their features. They all had blue eyes, aquiline noses, and soft wet skin. The baby at the left side had a long neck, different from his sibling’s short, fatty necks.

“I know you’re wondering about his neck,” the woman that opened the door came into the living room, holding two mugs of green tea. “He’s called Ethan. He was born two minutes after his siblings.”

Elma ran a finger over the boy’s head and closed her eyes for some seconds, but then, she suddenly stood straight and walked to the middle of the living room. “Where’s Edward?” she said.

“I’m here,” a tall, black haired man with the same peaky nose of his babies, stood at the door of the living room. “I see that you finally decided to ask.”

Elma shivered the moment she saw Edward. She walked to the window, dipping her hands in the pockets of her coat. “May be I thought that you’d ask yourself,”

Beatrice moved her eyes between Edward and Elma. “Did you know each other before?” She said, “I didn’t know it.”

Elma grinned and walked to the fireplace. “I didn’t come to say hello Edward,” Elma said, “There’s a prophecy that concerns one of your children. You must know.”

Edward’s gaze narrowed and he walked towards Elma. “Beatrice,” he said, his sight focused over Elma. “Please leave us alone.”

“They’re my children,” Beatrice shouted, “I must know what this lady has to say,”

“Beatrice,” Edward said, his chin flattening against his chest and his cheekbones rising. “I don’t want to converse.”

“What do you mean? You…” Beatrice went on, but Edward thumped the wooden ground hard with his feet and one of the vases over the fireplace crashed to the floor. “Leave us alone.”

Best answer:

Answer by daniel_newmanmk
You should publish it.

I only don’t understand, why you are using “used to” in the sentence “…where Edward Gustav used to sit and read his favorite medieval history books”, since the man is still alive and lives in the same house. So he probably never quit doing that.

And there’s one more thing: Who’s Edward Gustav’s son? All he’s got are those 4 babies, right? (Unless Elma can read the Future.)

I suppose your story is going to turn out to be extremely suspenseful, having in mind that one of the babies is different than the others. It is surely going to be at least a part of the thrill.

I better don’t say “I wish you great success” or “I hope your book becomes a bestseller”, because whatever I wished or hoped for turned out to occur the other way around. So I simply say:

Just do it!

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