What do you guys think?

Hey I was just wondering what an unbiased person thought of my writing it's a rough draft so yeah:





“Dad?”


“Dad?”


“DAD! WHERE ARE YOU!?”


My heavy eyelids somehow managed to open. Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead. My cyan-colored eyes panged around the room trying to communicate to my brain where I was. All they saw were the stark-white walls of the clinic, and I then knew my bone-marrow transplant had come to an end.


“Ash! You’re awake! Look at the ad in – Are you alright?” My mom, she never forgets about the important things in life, like shoe sales. She must have seen my pale face, even paler from the return of leukemia, resemble the color of a raw pear. I stared into her wide, hazel eyes which were enclosed in a frame of dark lashes, and yes, the beginnings of crow’s feet. Her face looked genuinely caring, but was soon replaced by an expression of incomprehension.


“What? Oh, yeah I’m glad it’s over.” I swiftly swept my free hand across my forehead hoping to conceal whatever dampness remained.


“You sure?” Worry made her eyebrows cinch up into two dark brown curves.


“Yeah, Mom. Just a dream, that’s all. Well actually – Never mind. A nightmare about my dad who decided to leave for a “while”, 14 years ago, was never a good topic of conversation with my mom.


“Okay, honey. Just wondering if you were doing okay. This cancer thing must be putting some stress on you.” I could see the heartbreak in her eyes that she was trying so hard to hide. My mother was an open book. Though, I could not resist the temptation to smile after gazing at her. She was my best friend. My other pea in our pod. My own personal Lorelai Gilmore.


I sat up, crouched on the hospital bed, and inhaled through my nose the sterile-scent of the clinic. Exhaling, I enjoyed a moment of peace, though my life excluded anything that had to do with the word. I thought about the nightmare I had just encountered. I wondered about my dad, as I commonly did, but really thought about him now. Why did he leave? Was it my fault? Is he even aware of my existence? Is he happy now? I stopped at that. I suppose if he was happy it did not matter all that much. I yearned to meet him though. I wanted to see him in our living room, talking about how much he’d missed my mom and I. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me in a tight grasp and say he would never leave again, just like he had when I was four. I wanted to be at his doorstep, halfway across the country in San Francisco, and say “How’s life dad?” I would find him, I knew I would. Before my death, before college, and even before chemotherapy.





* * *





I abruptly peeled my eyes open and scanned the room. The moonlight shone through the gaps in the blinds onto the hospital bed. I was in the same crouched position. I must have dozed off some point in my daydream.

What do you guys think?
Cyan colored eyes ... panged around the room? I think you are using adjectives for the sake of adjectives and description where none is really needed. Frankly, it's probably at least 1/3 longer than it needs to be.
Reply:It's pretty good. One suggestion is to re-write the paragraph below. I understood what you were saying, but I don't think you ended your spoken sentence at the right point.





“Yeah, Mom. Just a dream, that’s all. Well actually – Never mind. A nightmare about my dad who decided to leave for a “while”, 14 years ago, was never a good topic of conversation with my mom.





If it's supposed to be like that, then it is a very well written piece.
Reply:Pretty good.

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