The posted sentences will get a YES or a NO along with a brief explanation as to WHY. Feel free to head over and critique the 50 entrants that got in (lottery-style).
Or you can just crit it in my comments:
FIRST SENTENCE
Happiness is so many things.
FIRST TWO SENTENCES
Happiness
is so many things.
It isn’t this.
FIRST PAGE (I've really never, ever rocked a beginning, so crit away or smile and keep your opinions to yourself, since this is a complete rough draft.)
Happiness
is so many things.
It isn’t this.
It isn’t blue skies with a backdrop
of bluffs.
It isn’t twittering birds flying
over this God-forsaken town.
It isn’t 600 kids of whom five-ish
know my name.
It isn’t a mom who cries in her
sleep, or having a boyfriend without kisses, or passing a chemistry exam when I
started the same course last semester
somewhere else.
Somewhere where blue skies
and robins
and friends meant I was happy.
A place where my mom was with my dad
and he was with me and we smiled and hugged.
A place that was
home.
The door slams when I rush into the
kitchen where Mom is at the stove. I
stop, confused. She doesn’t turn and for
three seconds I wonder who this woman is and what she did with my mother.
“What, what are you doing?” I ask.
She turns and smiles. She actually smiles. “Making spaghetti.”
When I don’t speak or move or
breathe because I am afraid of this moment, afraid maybe that if I move I will
smash it into kazillion teardrops, she says, “Doesn’t spaghetti sound
marvelous?”
It does. I can’t believe it but it does. I bring my backpack to the room I am using to
sleep in and do homework in and hurry back to the kitchen. I take out milk and find French bread on the
counter. I slice it up with a bread
knife that has never been used and spread butter and sprinkle garlic and find
parmesan cheese to grate. Mom hands me a
baking sheet, and she is
humming.
I am looking at her again and
examining her hair—did she cut it? Her
eyelashes are wearing mascara and it is not smudged black underneath her eyes.