Good half of first chapter?

I KNOW! THERE ARE LOTS OF GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES, BUT IT'S THE IDEA THAT COUNTS! AND MY WRITING SKILLS! :D







Emily woke up with a start again! She looked a round her musty old bedroom, to find her brother sleeping soundly and peacefully as usual! He was breathing evenly and innocently, while she was tossing and turning struggling to free herself from her teared sheets, and trying to get out of that same awful dream!

It was always the same, every day, she would have that dream, but almost instantly forget it as their usual day started. It was the same today.

When she got out of bed, she tried extremely hard not to step on that same piece of wood that always creaked. She hopped over it, and glided smoothly to the bathroom, where she looked up at herself, in the only, broken, mirror they had! Her brown eyes were bright from her nightmare, and her hair was tangled in sweat and tears. She realized that she had been crying in that dream.

After she had taken off her night shirt, she got into a pair of pants, that were apparently called “Jeans” (as it said on the tag), and a burgundy, cashmere sweater. She wasn’t really sure where she had received these clothes, as the other citizens of the town all dressed in the same, floral patterned skirt, and ugly black sweater. She would frequently ask where she had gotten those clothes, but The Madame would just as frequently reply “They arrived when you did!”. She would then roll her eyes at Emily, and “tuft!” dramatically! It was as if The Madame expected Emily to know what they were talking about! After this, Emily would beg for new clothes, but The Madame would refuse, and attempt to ignore her, while Emily screamed in her ears, and waved her hands in The Madame’s face!

Emily didn’t particularly like the Broom-Maker, and always felt like she would abandon her. She was scared of being abandon, even though she barely even knows how it feels, not knowing her real parents.

When she was done washing up, she went downstairs to start breakfast. When she got to the bottom of the steps The Madame was sitting there, reading the daily PotLuck like usual.

“Any luck” Emily asked, even though she already new the answer.

“No, no, it seams all my luck has vanished.” The Madame replied dreamily still scanning the printed card, as if, her name would magically appear. Emily never understood the PotLuck. It was a card, that each citizen of the town can order, that has a couple of “random” people’s names every day. Emily soon stopped checking it, because it seemed that the only few people who’s names ever appeared on that list, were the ones that either donated money to the village, or say they are going to!

“To bad, I really wanted that chicken, it looked plump!” The Madame chuckled heartily and turned to face Emily.

Her blue eyes were bright and her smooth face only had a couple of wrinkles. Her hair was tied in a tight, grey, bun and even though she was quite old to Emily, she could tell that The Madame was once a beautiful lady.

“Well, i need you to go to the market.” The Madame started “We’re low on eggs and I’ve been saving up on some sugar! Also, go to the wood store, I’m investing on a new broom. Get the...” It looked as though she was debating between wood types in her head, when she finally answered “Cherry Wood. And Im treating myself, some light bristles too!”

Emily had a brilliant memory, and she didn’t have to write anything down, as she could memorize anything almost instantly! Also, The Madame would never accept a “Memory list” as she called it, to be used in this household!



When Emily stepped outside, the warm smell of fresh bread filled her nostrils. She always thought of herself as a princess when she entered town, because of all the people who were trying to sell her things. It made her feel famous, and loved, even though the vendors tried to get anybody to buy their product as much as they tried to get her to buy it.

When she arrived at the baking shop, she noticed that her old friend, Charlie, was there too! She skipped up to Charlie, and put her hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” She giggled, pulling her fingers away from his face.

“I don’t know... Evan?” Charlie laughed, and Emily laughed too, even though Charlie’s humor wasn’t, per-se, funny.

“My mom sent me here,” Charlie sighed, as of having a mom was the worst thing in the world “She’s so annoying sometimes!”

“Ya...”

Emily never knew her parents, and assumed that they hated her and her brother. She didn’t consider herself an orphan, because she had The Madame, but she always felt like there was a giant whole in her stomach.

“So Em, there’s a party in the Town Hall, and I was wondering if you want to come with us?” Charlie asked her, half distracted with the man handing him his sugar and dough.

“Ya! Cool! Can Can Evan come?” She replied, already knowing the answer.

“Duh! He’s like my, best-- guy friend!” Charlie added, seeing the evil, but playful look on EGood half of first chapter?
In a book or story it isn't just the idea that counts. Writing is about good grammar and mechanics. And you totally contradicted yourself: The mistakes don't matter, the idea is what counts- oh and my writing skills???

They do count because they are distracting to the story and people don't want to be patient for the lack of attention to important elements of writing.Good half of first chapter?
The plot is fine but your writing skills need some touching up.Good half of first chapter?
It's ok not amazing not great. Keep it up and revise.