Hello! I'm 13 years old, (14 in June) so this won't be too spectacular. I'm including quite a bit of it, so hopefully anyone who likes to read could give me some constructive critism? 
Here it is:
July 2, 1990: HANNAH
Down here at the beach, the air holds the scent of fresh sea salt all day long. I walk along the shore, feeling the soft breeze caress my bare legs. Sand crystals attach themselves to the soles of my feet and bury themselves between my toes, as if making themselves a home inside of me. As I look out onto the horizon and scan my eyes along the brilliant blue ocean, I wonder how something so still and peaceful could also be deadly. You could be swimming gracefully along the waters at one moment, and then being swallowed alive the next. The wind whistles in my ears and I imagine it is the mermaids singing the eerie words of their songs, back and forth in a language that any human could never understand.
Behind me, a vast strip of little shops selling floral tops and straw hats border the paved road while clusters of children and elderly couples mill about the area. Young men and woman lean against each other, stealing kisses and drinking in the sight of the sea. The docks along the shore are surrounded by small wooden boats and large ships anchored into the sand, waiting to be set free. I’ve never believed anything could truly be free; even the birds are chained helplessly to the sky.
I lie down on the sand and look out above me. It is a never ending quilt of blues that weave together fluently, resulting in a spectacular masterpiece. Today, hints of rosy pinks and purples are knitted in as well. Seagulls soar along the sky, their wings expanded fully, letting them glide easily along with the gentle breeze. Sighing, I sit up again. It is my fifteenth birthday and I am all alone.
My parents—being the professionals that they are—have gone away to a business meeting held at the town hall to drink sweet tea and eat buttered scones, which of course, leaves me by myself. I don’t mind too much, though. Being alone allows me to notice so much more in my surroundings. Right now, I notice the way the sun burns like a single lantern in the sky, washing light over the many nameless faces of people roaming along the sand. I notice the intense passion and desire lingering inside the vacant eyes of the premature boys that walk beside clueless girls but still don’t dare to make a move. I even notice how the wrinkled lips of elderly men turn up at the sight of their long-time partners coming into view, the aged women with their curls pinned back to frame their timeworn faces. Faces that, even after all this time, still appear to be almost angelic beneath the sunlight. Timeless love, I think. I’d like to have something like that, but, I’m not so sure if I believe in love.
People make it seem so easy, falling in love. But it would be so hard to give all of myself to someone without knowing if they want me in the first place, or without knowing if they’d keep me safe until the last breath of life escapes my lips. People always wonder why there are skeptics when it comes to love, but I wonder how, in a world full of heartbreak and sorrow, you could possibly offer someone your soul, trusting them not to break it and not caring if they do, as long as they’re right by your side all the while.
I push myself to stand just as my stomach growls, signifying hunger. Sand falls towards the ground like snowflakes as I brush off my shorts. I make my way to the line of shops, moving past herds of people until I find just what I’m looking for.
Jeb’s Diner is a quaint little spot, often holding all of the daytime gossip that occurs down here at the beach. On the outside, neon signs hang loosely above the door, while peeling posters of burgers and strawberry shakes hang on the windows. When I open the door, I am drowned in the sounds of dishes clashing together in the kitchen, whispers of conversation echoing from the lips of the customers seated at the bright red booths, and unknown fifties music playing from the glowing jukebox and lingering in the air. A round woman outfitted in a bright pink dress hustles towards me, smacking gum loudly between her lips. She grabs a menu and heads toward the back of the diner, motioning me to follow after her. I am seated in a worn down booth that could easily seat four, despite the fact that I am by myself.
The waitress leaves me with an open menu, and I scan over the words, not having a clue on what to order. The sweet smell of tobacco lingers beneath my nose, and thin wisps of smoke flowing from the customers’ cigars paint the area around me in abstract patterns. Hastily, I decide on a plain beef patty on a bun; plain and simple. I look around the diner, from the bright blue clock on the wall—ticking down the time—to the leather jacketed motor cyclists seated on the bar stools, waiting for their next round of drinks. I pla
Here it is:
July 2, 1990: HANNAH
Down here at the beach, the air holds the scent of fresh sea salt all day long. I walk along the shore, feeling the soft breeze caress my bare legs. Sand crystals attach themselves to the soles of my feet and bury themselves between my toes, as if making themselves a home inside of me. As I look out onto the horizon and scan my eyes along the brilliant blue ocean, I wonder how something so still and peaceful could also be deadly. You could be swimming gracefully along the waters at one moment, and then being swallowed alive the next. The wind whistles in my ears and I imagine it is the mermaids singing the eerie words of their songs, back and forth in a language that any human could never understand.
Behind me, a vast strip of little shops selling floral tops and straw hats border the paved road while clusters of children and elderly couples mill about the area. Young men and woman lean against each other, stealing kisses and drinking in the sight of the sea. The docks along the shore are surrounded by small wooden boats and large ships anchored into the sand, waiting to be set free. I’ve never believed anything could truly be free; even the birds are chained helplessly to the sky.
I lie down on the sand and look out above me. It is a never ending quilt of blues that weave together fluently, resulting in a spectacular masterpiece. Today, hints of rosy pinks and purples are knitted in as well. Seagulls soar along the sky, their wings expanded fully, letting them glide easily along with the gentle breeze. Sighing, I sit up again. It is my fifteenth birthday and I am all alone.
My parents—being the professionals that they are—have gone away to a business meeting held at the town hall to drink sweet tea and eat buttered scones, which of course, leaves me by myself. I don’t mind too much, though. Being alone allows me to notice so much more in my surroundings. Right now, I notice the way the sun burns like a single lantern in the sky, washing light over the many nameless faces of people roaming along the sand. I notice the intense passion and desire lingering inside the vacant eyes of the premature boys that walk beside clueless girls but still don’t dare to make a move. I even notice how the wrinkled lips of elderly men turn up at the sight of their long-time partners coming into view, the aged women with their curls pinned back to frame their timeworn faces. Faces that, even after all this time, still appear to be almost angelic beneath the sunlight. Timeless love, I think. I’d like to have something like that, but, I’m not so sure if I believe in love.
People make it seem so easy, falling in love. But it would be so hard to give all of myself to someone without knowing if they want me in the first place, or without knowing if they’d keep me safe until the last breath of life escapes my lips. People always wonder why there are skeptics when it comes to love, but I wonder how, in a world full of heartbreak and sorrow, you could possibly offer someone your soul, trusting them not to break it and not caring if they do, as long as they’re right by your side all the while.
I push myself to stand just as my stomach growls, signifying hunger. Sand falls towards the ground like snowflakes as I brush off my shorts. I make my way to the line of shops, moving past herds of people until I find just what I’m looking for.
Jeb’s Diner is a quaint little spot, often holding all of the daytime gossip that occurs down here at the beach. On the outside, neon signs hang loosely above the door, while peeling posters of burgers and strawberry shakes hang on the windows. When I open the door, I am drowned in the sounds of dishes clashing together in the kitchen, whispers of conversation echoing from the lips of the customers seated at the bright red booths, and unknown fifties music playing from the glowing jukebox and lingering in the air. A round woman outfitted in a bright pink dress hustles towards me, smacking gum loudly between her lips. She grabs a menu and heads toward the back of the diner, motioning me to follow after her. I am seated in a worn down booth that could easily seat four, despite the fact that I am by myself.
The waitress leaves me with an open menu, and I scan over the words, not having a clue on what to order. The sweet smell of tobacco lingers beneath my nose, and thin wisps of smoke flowing from the customers’ cigars paint the area around me in abstract patterns. Hastily, I decide on a plain beef patty on a bun; plain and simple. I look around the diner, from the bright blue clock on the wall—ticking down the time—to the leather jacketed motor cyclists seated on the bar stools, waiting for their next round of drinks. I pla