How do you think my story is so far?
Any constructive criticism would be great!
“Hester. My name is Hester.” I answered the very little questioning boy who had ran up to me. He smiled and then returned to his mother, who was probably asking him why he had talked to me. I stretched out on the hammock, a bag of cherries nestled by my side. I popped 1 in my mouth, spitting out the pit on the sandy ground below. The sun shined brightly above my head, my eyes covered by big black sunglasses.
All around me, kids were running around making sand castles and playing with toys while their parents tried to relax on big picnic quilts. Teenage girls tanned, flipping over every ten minutes. Teenage boys ran around with Frisbees and volleyballs under the blazing sun.
When I checked my watch for the time, I realized it was much later than I had anticipated. I hopped off the hammock, zipped up my cherry bag, and made my way to the pavement. I was barefoot; I always was in the summer. Being barefoot was being carefree, which I was in the summer when I could put my worries behind me. I stuffed the bag in my shorts pocket and began to jog. I didn’t even mind that the sun was making me sweat. I was an athlete so I was used to it.
I loved to run. For most people, it was considered a sport. You had to be the fastest and the best. But to me, it didn’t matter how fast I went or how smooth my strides were. It was just the feeling of moving, nobody to stop me but just the rush of the wind beside me and in front of me. The fact that people would stop and stare at that girl who was simply glowing because she was doing the thing she loved.
Ten minutes later, I slowed to a stop in front of my house. My feet met green grass, leaving the rough pavement. My house was medium size, not particularly small yet not exceptionally big. It was made of chipped white brick, and all of the windows had blue shutters around them. The walkway was made of flagstone, and led to the big red door. I knocked and in seconds, the door opened.