How's this for a first chapter?

Question

The wind whistled softly and curled around the girl as she sat in her bed chamber. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the misty blue haze of a new day was dawning. Her soft hair fell on the indigo cushions as she lay on the velvety couch, staring into the distance. She wished her vision was lying to her, that the window pane was wrong and the sun wasn’t actually coming up - but it was. The new day was staring her in the face like two armies about to go to war. It was the day of the grand coronation. Something was going to happen today, but it wasn’t what everyone thought it would be. She wished she could run away and find a new home, but it was impossible.
She was watched over like a hawk ever since her many previous efforts to escape. Any sign that something was awry, the guards would take her arms and she would end up on this spot, as always. That was why she wasn’t pacing the hallways right now, wondering whether her gown would fit due to pre-coronation eating. She was confine in a room the size of a huge closet - bored.
Myra rolled her eyes and sighed. She’d never wanted to be queen and never would. She was eighteen and that was too young to rule a kingdom in her opinion. The officials obviously didn’t think so. If the kingdom was so desperate for a queen, then it didn’t deserve to be a kingdom anyways!
She looked around at the castle that was built around her. She was showered with riches and glory, but it never seemed like her or her parents were happy. She only had to rule for the ‘duty to her people’.
She stood up and mockingly smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, took a few dignified steps, then waving her hand elegantly a few times before plumping down on the great bed with a huge sigh.
What can I do?
A pounding came from the door.
“Are you ready, your Majesty?”
She stood up once more and turned the bronze handle on the shimmerwood door, made from the most valuable wood in the region, reluctantly, almost as if death itself stood on the other side. It was only a guard.
With a thin, humorless smile, she murmured, “Yes, I suppose.”
The tall guard took her arm in his and with her at his left side, strode toward the staircase leading to the ballroom where the coronation would be held. She was almost ashamed to stand next to him. All he owned was the simple tunic and garments he was wearing and the estate from the Shirburn kingdom officials. That was the first thing to change - the low pay of the staff. The young queen couldn’t worry about boring politics now, though.
Near the entrance doors stood waiting the minister who was in charge of all the coronation plans.
“Ah, Myra my dear, how are you on this fair morning? Before the spectators arrive, we must go over some stage pans.”
As he rambled on, she stared off into space, only half listening.
This would be the perfect opportunity to just, I don’t know, leave! What would the old man do? I mean, look at him, dressed in that silly robe! Then again…he could tell Amaan and since he hates my soul, he’d have me punished!
“Myra?”
“Please don’t tell him, I don’t want to die!”
“Tell who - what - die?”
“Oh, nothing,” she giggle nervously, blushing.
The minister raised one eyebrow, adjusting his spectacles.
“Well then, moving on…”
He walked purposefully through the oaken doors with her behind him, talking as he went. After what felt like an eternity, a voice called out, “Archibald, leave that poor girl alone. She has enough to think about already.”
Myra spun around, almost singing with joy until she saw who it was - Amaan. He was the official in charge of the kingdom until coronation day when she turned eighteen, today. After her parents died, he seemed too glad to take the throne. He’d always been someone who’d stab you in the back when you weren’t looking.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“Well now, we could have a lot of fun if you and I could just be friends, sweetie,” he said with a bitter-sweet smile. Only Myra could sense the mocking tone in his voice.
“Yes…well come on, Archie,” Myra muttered, shaking her head as Amaan walked away and laughed to himself.
Spectators had begun trickling into the main room. Bright lights were shining in through the multi-colored window panes. The burgundy seats were being filled. Laughter was heard as the people mingled.
The minister called out, “Places everyone. Myra, we need you in the back room.”
Lord Amaan was nowhere to be seen after he’d disappeared from the entrance hall.
That’s weird.
She had a bad feeling that something was going to make this day a whole lot worse than it was supposed to be, even for her. When she was finally to the back room, which was coated with all kinds of jewels especially emeralds, everything seemed ready.
She walked over to Archibald and asked, “So, what do I do now?”
“Were you not listening, dearest?” he sighed. “Ah well, I expected as much. Just go out there on my cue and when it’s time, put your hand on the em

Answer 1

I think the excerpt got cut off, but here you go, this is my critique. I think as a first chapter it's pretty interesting so far. I like that you've raised questions, leaving the reader wondering what's going to go wrong. You've already developed the protagonist a bit and sorta-kinda a potential antagonist. Well-done. It does need a little fine tuning, but this holds promise.



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You need to cut back on the adjectives in some places.

Here are a few edits and opinions as I read.



(Why is there wind in her bedroom? And don't use words that end in LY, "softly." Next: Soft, indigo, and velvety, all in one sentence? Too much)

The wind whistled through a window, curling around the girl as she sat in her bedchamber. Her hair fell onto the velvety cushions as she found rest on her couch, staring into the distance.The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and the misty blue haze of a new day was dawning. She wished her vision was lying to her, that the window pane was wrong and the sun wasn’t actually coming up - but it was. The new day was staring her in the face like two armies about to go to war. It was the day of the grand coronation. (A special event), but it (wouldn't be what everyone was expecting.



Rather than pacing the hallways, wondering whether her gown would fit after the feast, she yearned to run away. It was impossible though; she was watched over like a hawk (because of) her many efforts to escape (in the past). Any sign that something was awry, the guards would drag her back to her bedchamber. So she remained confined in the room the size of a huge closet - bored.



Myra rolled her eyes and sighed. She was eighteen, too young to rule a kingdom as their queen. If the kingdom was so desperate for a queen, then it didn’t deserve to be a kingdom! (Makes no sense. Try something else) The officials obviously didn’t think so.



(Too much telling here)

She looked around at the castle that was built around her. She was showered with riches and glory, but it never seemed like her or her parents were happy. She only had to rule for the ‘duty to her people’.



(mockingly and elegantly -- no LY words. Don't have her sigh again.)

She stood up, smoothed out her wrinkled dress, took a few dignified steps, then practiced elegant waves a few times, before plumping down on the great bed.



(What can I do? -- this is in first person, your story is in third. You'd have to change it to something like: This is bullshark, Myra thought, there's nothing to do.)



A pounding came from the door, (followed by a soothing voice.) ?

“Are you ready, your Majesty?”



Myra turned the bronze handle on the shimmering door--made from the most valuable wood in the region--almost as if death itself stood on the other side. It was only a guard.



With a humorless smile, she murmured, “Yes, I suppose.”

The tall guard took her arm, and they strode toward the staircase leading to the ballroom, the place where the coronation would be held. She was almost ashamed to stand next to him. All he owned was the simple tunic and garments he was wearing and the estate from the Shirburn Kingdom officials. (He's wearing an estate?) That was the first thing to change - the low pay of the staff, but the young queen couldn’t worry about boring politics now. (She's not the queen, yet)



Near the entrance doors, stood the minister who was in charge of all the coronation plans.

“Ah, Myra my dear, how are you on this fair morning? Before the spectators arrive, we must go over some stage pans.”

As he rambled on, she stared off into space, only half listening.

This is the perfect opportunity to walk out, Myra thought. What would the old man do? I mean, look at him, dressed in that silly robe! Then again…he could tell Amaan and since he hates my soul, he’d have me punished.

“Myra?"

“Please don’t tell him, I don’t want to die!” (She shouted?)

“Tell who - what do you mean, die?”

“Oh, nothing,” she giggled, blushing as she remembered her thoughts were safe from him.

The minister raised one eyebrow, adjusting his spectacles.

“Well then, moving on…”

He walked through the oaken doors with her behind him, talking as he went. After what felt like an eternity, a voice called out, “Archibald, leave that poor girl alone. She has enough to think about already.”

Myra spun around, almost singing with joy until she saw who it was - Amaan. He was the official in charge of the kingdom until coronation day. After her parents died, he seemed too glad to take the throne. He’d always been someone who’d stab you in the back when you weren’t looking. (He killed her parents? Predictable, so I hope not.)



“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Well now, we could have a lot of fun if you and I could just be friends, sweetie,” he said with a bitter-sweet smile. Only Myra could sense the mocking tone in his voice.

“Yes…well come on, Archie,” Myra muttered, shaking her head as Amaan walked away, laughing to himself.



Spectators had begun trickling into the main room. Bright lights were shining in through the multi-colored window panes. The burgundy seats were being filled. Laughter was heard as the people mingled.

The minister called out, “Places everyone. Myra, we need you in the back room.”

Lord Amaan was nowhere to be seen after he’d disappeared from the entrance hall.

She had a bad feeling that something was going to make this day a whole lot worse than it was supposed to be.



When she was finally to the back room, which was coated with all kinds of jewels--especially emeralds, everything seemed ready.



___



Good luck and happy writing! ^_^

Answer 2

It wasn't the barbaric men in Egypt, it was the destroying angel. Also, death is nothing. It is a changing of location. Our father has the right to change our location any time he wants. We don't have that right either in God's law or man's law. Our Father wants as many as possible to die under the law. The Israelites didn't follow our Father's plan, and they inter-married with those not killed. within short order, the Israelites were worshipping idols and so wasted their being born. That is why the 2nd one was done. In Egypt, the fathers and mothers of those baby's killed were worshipping idols and so the kids would also, which again was an almost waste of being born. We were born for 2 reasons. To gain a body and to prove we would worship god. Babies that die before 8 come forth in the first resurrection, are raised in the Millenium and are pretty sure of going to heaven. I would take that in a minute.

Answer 3

I didn't read it all because I'm about to go off the computer and thought I should quickly give you my opinion on what I did read.



With this first sentence "The wind whistled softly and curled around the girl as she sat in her bed chamber" I thought that the scene was taking place outside even though you mentioned her bed chamber, I thought this because of the "The wind whistled softly and curled around the girl" part, I think that really good but it not right for a beginning. You should use it at different time in the story.



I love the effort you put in this but your story loses my attention as I continue to read and the idea doesn't sound original to me, don't take offense by that it just might be me because I don't really like reading stories with guards, war and etc.



You don't have to take my advice but it's there just in case you want too.

Answer 4

While I appreciate the effort you have put in, and cannot say I have ever written more than a short story.



It sounds a bit... forced, and doesn't really maintain my attention, in the sense that it isn't naturally flowing. It moves from one simile, to a description to an action.



Try and put similar things in the same paragraphs. If your describing the bedroom then put it in a paragraph first, then introduce the girl moving in the bedcover and move into a new one.



Like " The suns rays fell upon a bed where a [description] young lady was awake and restless"



However, there is some good writing in there.

Answer 5

It's not brilliantly written, but it's okay. The plot, however, is not very original. Young princess-like girl who doesn't want to be queen? I've read it before.