Writelink Arena

This is a Chapter of a childrens story I'm working on.
Its also available on writelink..
However, I have made some adjustments to the grammer on this one.
would really love some honest feed back.

[more:]

A white blanket of snow covered the hills that surrounded the village of St Nicolas. Children's laughter filled the air as they whiz through the fur trees on their sledges. John and his pal Jack were having fun they raced each other to the bottom of the hill. "I won again!” said John very proud of himself. "Maybe this time, but you will not next time.” said Jack. "I will always win." boasted John. "Come on then, one more go.” said Jack with determination. The church bells rang in the distance."Sorry Jack, but it is seven o clocks, I have to go home- tomorrow; maybe?" ''Your on." said Jack. Both boys said bye to the other kids on the hill and headed home. Throwing snowballs at each other and laughing as they walked, the warm glowing lights lit up the path ways to the village. As the boys approached the village, Christmas carols could be heard from Church of St Nicolas. Five Streets lead into the centre of the village. A tall fur tree covered in gold lights stood in the centre. Shops, cafe and the village Church surrounded the tree in the shape of a circle. Each street had stone cottages. The gardens were perfectly displayed with fairy lights and fur trees, decorated gold and red. The image of a fairy tale, illustrated the festive season.
John teased Jack about this sledge as they walked through the village. "Yours is crap; you need one like mine, its light and comfortable to carry!" "Yours is plastic!" said Jack “It is better than being big and bulky; you have to pull yours home! And it gets stuck in the snow!" John reached the garden leading to his home "I will see you tomorrow Jack.” ''Yeah, I will call on you for School." said Jack as he carried on walking home. John opened the garden gate and walked towards the front door. A wreath fell as he opened door. John picked up the wreath and placed it back onto the wooden door. He kicked the snow off his shoes as he entered. Mum had been baking. The aroma of cinnamon and apple made John hungry. John took off his shoes and put away his sledge. He then made his way to the living room. His mum was sewing. She was making Christmas stockings for the village fair, she had been making them since September. "What’s for tea Mum?" said John with a lick of his lips. "Beef Stew, followed by apple pie and custard!” said Mum. She stopped sewing and went to get John his tea. John Sat next to the open fire and rubbed his hands warm, for a few minutes. He stared at the brightly coloured Christmas tree. The excitement of Christmas began to overwhelm him. His imagination started to run wild at the thought of presents under the tree. "Come on John, your tea is ready!” said Mum. John tucked into his stew, and soon felt warm. After wards he went into his bedroom. He looked out of his bedroom window. The night sky was drawing in. The stars twinkled and the moon shone brightly onto the snowy covered hills of the rural setting.

Could I take a moment of your valuable time? Come
Underneath the shadows of this virtuous rhyme
Not a word to say in loud gratuitous fiction
The word I love’s poetic – pure secretive diction.

Can I love it? Really? Mrs Greer thinks I should. ‘cause
Underneath we’re all the same my Little Red Riding Hood
Not used here to cause offence, but subtlety expose it
Tune it in; turn it on. Don’t use then abuse it.

Criticised and abhorred by polite society.
Underneath social convention, gross misogyny
Never just a wallflower, a throbbing pulse inside
Terrified and wide awake. Still, feeling it should hide.

Some time ago, I put up the first chapter(s) of a piece and then abandoned it in favour or writing non-fiction for the time being. I’m between drafts of a piece, so I’ve rewritten that first chapter, with a different slant.

As you read this, it is hot off the word processor and doesn’t even have a proper title. No development work has been done. As ever, I would be interested in any feedback. It’s about 1600 words.

=> Read more!

This is re-write, as requested .
would love some honest critic.
hope you like it

If I could tell a story, the greatest would be told.
My premature baby, his heart was made of gold.
When I remenice, to the day that he was born.
I didn't know how to cope,my heart was really torn.
His body was covered in wires, from his head to his toes.
His features looked different, even his little nose.

The nurse said "we dont think he will last 24 hours".
I cried ,cried and cried ,like the spring showers.

That night , I remember clearly,
I prayed the lord would hear me
let him live, let him fight.
But please don't take him, not this night.

I stayed by his bedside all night long.
I even sang him a little song.

Months went by, he was stable.
I couldn't hold him, I wasn't able
I stroked his hand and his face,
I wanted to take him out of that place,

Then one day God sent me a sign.
A porceline hand, in a shop window, with a long life line.
I ran to the hospital as fast as I could,
washed my hands, as we should.

There was my baby,waiting for me, his hand in the air.
Dare I look , dare I stare.
What if it wasn't there.

Then I saw it, saw it right there, a long life line for me to see.
This was the message that was sent to me.

Two years on, he's growing up strong.
The days of the turmoil have all gone.
He strokes my hair as he sleeps.
Now I know he's here for keeps.