Young Writers Society

I met Alana five years ago when I was fifteen, working as a desk clerk for the local I98 Michigan branch of Star Bucks. It was one of those rainy, dark sort of days where its predictable that nothing much is likely to happen, with the heavy dark rain pelting the windows which were otherwise used as glass display cabinets for posters advertising the newest Latte Mixes, the updated Java. At noon, when the number of customers had barely risen above six, it was no abnormal that I jumped several inches at the first sign of life. I was after all, the only clerk on duty. The manager took Thursdays off. Alana was standing in the frame of the door, soaked like she had walked the distance from the city. She was not smiling, and instead appeared quite misserable. I stood, dumbstruck for a moment, not sure exactly what to do. The door shut behind her and she walked at a lopsidded gaite toward the counter. I wondored if she was hurt and yet said nothing. "I'll like a black. Just black," she said. Now this was one of the unusual things I noticed. Most people see "Star Bucks," and think "Complicated. I want to see really how good this guy is." But Alana wanted it black. Just black. Plain and simple. I turned around preparing to heat the coffee when she said out of the blue, "But for pete's sake, if I'm being this nice, at least make it fresh." I turned around for a moment. She had her elbows resting on the counter, her face half hidden under her hood which was pulled all the way up. "Will do," I said, feeling foolish and proceeding to pour new beans into the pot. I handed her the coffee and she took it without much thought, tossing five or six coins on the counter. Most people who come into Star Bucks leave right away, like they've always got somewhere better to go. But Alana suprised me again. She took the coffee in her mittened hand and sat down at the table furthest away from the door and closet to the counter. Feeling that much more stupid, I said without giving myself time to think it over, "you need anything else? You look wet." Alana looked at me and now I was expecting some rude biast response, but all she said was, "no..thank you." I could see that she was crying, silver tears were falling down her mocha coloured skin. I didn't stop myself. I hurried from behind the desk and sat down across from her at the table. "Is something the problem?" I asked. But the same response was applied. "No." So that was it, plain and simple in more ways than one.


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Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think <3

This was interesting. The sentances need to be broken up into paragraphs, especially the dialogue, as it makes it very hard to read, otherwise.
It was very abrupt, and not much emotion in it. It needs some more work. Read over it, Little Miss, and see if anything sort of jumps out at you, that could be corrected.
Is it going to continue?

As Boni_Bee said, this needs to get broken up. Having it all in one big lump makes it very easy to lose you place while reading it and therefore makes it that much harder to keep the reader's attention.

Besides that there are a few miss-spellings and things, but nothing major that jumped out at me. I think you should give it a good read over yourself to just smooth out a few little problems.

But I'm looking forward to seeing where this is going. I hope you post more soon.

A little more emotion and you will ahve a fine peice. good on you and keep working on it.

I liked the flow of the story - it seemed effortless and natural. However, I would agree with the comments above about paragraphing, emotion etc. I do think that it could be very interesting if it some more emotion was added and this would make it a bit longer also.

I thought the phrase -

"Is something the problem" I asked

was a bit erm..... unnatural.

Maybe -

"Is something the matter," I asked.

It was interesting though.

Oh! Another newbie! Hi!! Welcome to YWS

I really liked the way you described the Starbuck's setting, especially the part about the people trying to make it as complicated as possible. So true!