Contest Entry, constructive criticism please
Well, I had a contest, so I thought I might enter it. It's a creative writing contest, and the minimum is 300 words. Here it is, be nice
I was walking down a lonely street when I saw an envelope I opened it and read…
I know the last time we saw each other we had a blazing fight, but I would like to see you again. If you could come to my house at 7:15 PM on Tuesday I would appreciate it.
Thanks in advance,
There was also a note that was stamped in print by the post office.
Due to you putting only 1 stamp, instead of two, making the payment for this note insufficient, it was our painful duty to return this note to you.
The Post Department
“Well, I’d never, outrageous, not enough stamps? Not enough stamps!” I sputtered, clearly outraged. “I know!” I said brightly, an idea sparking in me. “I’ll hand deliver this to the person who should have gotten it.”
I checked the address. I read 1572 Bright Street Lane, and my heart rose. That was only four blocks away from my house.
I thought I should wait for tomorrow to deliver it, as the day was at an end.
“Dad, I found an envelope, and I thought I should bring it to the person who it was addressed to.” I told my father at dinner.
“If you do, I’ll give you a raise in your allowance.” My father replied with a chuckle.
The next day, as Saturday, I normally would have slept late. But today I awoke unusually early. As I got dressed the memory of the previous day rolled over me.
I went out, and to the person who the letter was addressed to. I rang the doorbell. The door opened, and I said “Hello, are you Harold. I have a letter for you.”
“I am, what do you want, and who are you.” He snapped at me.
“Well, I am John, and I have a letter for you from someone named George.” I replied quite calmly
Harold’s eyebrows raised. Then he said “Well, I better see that note.” He said. I gave him the envelope, and he invited me inside.
“Where did you find this, and would you bring me to George’s house.” He asked.
“I found it on the street, and I will bring you there.” I replied.
Harold nodded and took my arm in a pincer like grip. “Get in.” He said gruffly, and to my greatest surprise, put me in the driver street.
“But, I can’t drive, I don’t have a license.” I said bewilderedly.
“Whatever, I don’t care, drive.” He said, and I agreed. I drove, but I didn’t crash. I was amazed, especially since I couldn’t even drive a go-cart.
I pulled into George’s driveway, ran up it, and rang the doorbell. “Hello, young, scrawny, pale boy.” He said.
“Well, I’m John, and I have your friend, Harold.” I answered. His eyebrows raised, and I brought over Harold.
“Thank you, young boy. I don’t know how I can repay you, I’ll just pay you for it.” He gave a chuckle, pulled out his wallet, and took a twenty dollar bill out of it.
“Thanks, goodbye.” Harold, and George waved, and I ran off, thinking what I would do with my twenty dollars, and my allowance raise.