Is this a good short story? (PLEASE ANSWER!!!!)?

Question

The darkness overtook me. I could feel it, first tickling my toes, and slowly rising until I could feel it grazing my fingertips, making me suck in my stomach, going over my chest, engulfing my shoulders. And then, it stopped. I tried to move, but it was like concrete, holding me in place. And then, the silence. It was so loud, I tried to cover my ears, but my hands still wouldn’t move. The silence rang louder in my ears, louder, louder, louder. Until I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I felt myself sweating, breathing heavily. Once again, I tried to scream, my mouth stretching as wide as it could. But still, nothing. I felt my eyes start to glaze over, turning hard inside my head. And then, the concrete shattered, and I was falling, falling, falling…

“Sarah!”
My eyes shot open. I saw Grace standing over me, looking concerned, annoyed, confused and tired all at the same time. My eyes were watering.
“What happened?” I asked, noticing that my palms were sweaty.
“You were screaming in your sleep again,” Grace said, opening my window. “Woke up your mother. She was not happy.” She walked over to me and sat down. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
I sighed. I wish I could, I thought. “Nothing,” I said quietly, “It was just a bad dream.”
Grace gave me a look. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I looked at the clock. 4:16 a.m. “No,” I said, “You can’t control my dreams.”
Grace sighed. “Hon, things can’t keep going on like this,” She gestured toward me and I sat up straighter. “You’re killing your mother.”
“Then why doesn’t she ever come see what’s the matter?” I asked, feeling a lump rise in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but it remained. “If she really cared about anything other than her precious beauty sleep, maybe I would’ve stopped by now.”
Grace gave me such a menacing look, I actually shrank back. “Do you mean to tell me,” Grace said acidly. “That you’ve been pretending to scream all these days, just so you could get your mother’s attention?”
I couldn’t believe Grace even thought I could pull that off. My mother would never notice me. No matter how much I tried, no matter how loud I screamed. “No.”
“Good.”
And with that, she was gone.

Things weren’t always like this.
When I was little, things were different. Even being only a little girl, I could tell that my parents were in love. It was plain whenever they looked at each other. Their eyes would light up, like they’d just seen the most amazing thing on the planet, and then, if it was my dad, he would scoop my mom up in his arms and kiss her, and if it was my mom, she would jump on his back and hang there, kissing his neck. Whenever they were together, they could be seen holding hands. When one of them said something, the other one would most likely laugh, not because of the content of what the other had said, but because they knew they were lucky to have each other, and because they were so happy to be around each other.
But all that was no match for when they looked at me.
My dad was a construction worker, and my mom stayed at home with me. I still remember what we’d do every day. First, she’d get me up just in time to say goodbye to my dad before he went to work. He would lift me up high in the air and kiss me. I remember he would always go to his car and start the engine, acting like he was going to leave, but we both knew that I was going to run outside and demand another hug. Then, I would cry for about ten minutes. That’s how much I loved my daddy. My mom would put on my favorite movie, Aladdin, and when I was done crying, she’d watch the rest with me. Then I’d help her make breakfast. I still remember me demanding to pour the milk or stir the batter or spread the butter, and she would always let me, watching me make a mess while she sipped her coffee, laughing to herself. I would color after that, getting marker or paint all over the table, which my mom would always happily clean up, because she said it was worth it to get to hang one of my drawings up on the wall. Then, we’d walk around the lake, and that was always my favorite part of the day, because I got to see all the animals, I got to put my feet in the water, and, after we ate lunch at the restaurant next to the lake, I would always get ice cream. When we got back to the house, I was always tired, and my mom would put a movie in, usually one that I didn’t really like, one that would put me to sleep. And by the time I woke up, my dad was always there, sitting right next to me on the couch.
And that was how things went. We were a content little family, always giddy with laughter and happiness, because we were all lucky we had each other. And when it was time for me to start school, my mom decided to home school me, saying that she would be lonely all day if she didn’t. So she talked to the town, and home schooled me and a few of the other kids in our neighborhood that were my age. And everything was wonderful.
Until one night when

Additional Details

Until one night when I was five. My parents rarely went out and left me behind with a babysitter, but that night, they did. Of course, I kicked and screamed and cried louder than ever, but they promised they’d be back before I went to sleep. So after numerous hugs and kisses and making them twenty minutes late for their dinner reservation, the babysitter put me on the couch in front of the TV, turning it on and walking away, not even bothering to see what was on. I remember it was some court show. Something about a man raping his wife’s sister, though I had no clue what they were talking about at the time. I remember wanting to ask the sitter, I think her name was Maya, if she could put in Aladdin for me. But when I walked into the kitchen, she was on the phone, and she indicated with her finger for me to go back to the living room.

After another hour, I went back to the kitchen and she wasn’t there, so I searched the entire house until I found her on my parents’ bed, asleep. After another two hours of the court show, I heard the front door open, and I raced into the front room, getting ready to hug and kiss my parents.
But I could immediately tell that something was wrong, as they pushed through the door. My mom had tears streaming down her face, and my dad was red. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat on the floor, and watched.

“I just can’t believe you’d do that.” My mom said, running a hand through her hair and looking very stressed. I remember thinking it was so strange seeing like that. She was usually so bubbly and giddy and full of happy energy. And her expression didn’t match her dress, which was long and purple and flowing, and deserved a smiling face.
“Me?” My dad said, jabbing his pointer finger in his chest. I’d never seen him look so angry in my life. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”
My mother’s face turned red, and she looked like she was going to say something, but instead, she slowly took off her shoes. They were sparkly, purple high heels. She threw one of the shoes at him, and missed, instead hitting a picture of me and knocking it off the table it stood on. But she didn’t seem to notice, just threw her other shoe, and this time, it hit him on his shoulder. He gripped his shoulder, and that was when I stopped watching, was too scared, and went up to my room.

When I woke up, my dad was gone. So was all his stuff. So was Maya. Every picture of him, even my favorite picture, the one of me and him up at my mom’s friend’s cabin when I was four, him holding a huge fish and pointing to me like I’d caught it, while I looked at it disgustedly, was gone. I remember right after we took that picture, he had said “That’s my girl,” And kissed my forehead. After I’d discovered that he had left, I still believed that I was his girl, and that he would come back. But he never did.

After that, my mom locked herself in her room for about a week, and it’s a wonder I didn’t starve to death. Finally, she remembered that she had a little girl to take care of, but instead of making an effort to take care of me on her own, she hired a nanny, Grace. Grace did everything for me that my mom ever did, but somehow, it just wasn’t the same. But eventually, I got used to it. Whenever I went to bed and my mom’s door was open, I would peek through, and she would always be crying hysterically, holding something that I couldn’t make out.
I didn’t really see her until a year later, when she finally emerged and decided that she needed to get a job if we were going to survive. And after numerous interviews and rejections, she was finally hired as real estate agent.

But nothing was ever the same. My mother barely ever spoke me, she left that to Grace. My dad was a forbidden subject in the house, so I never got to ask what happened. My mother turned into a cold woman, a woman that only cared that we get by, and not if we were content doing it.
I learned to love Grace more than my mom, and the memory of my dad, the memory of the happy life, slowly faded away. But I’ve always remembered, that once, I was somebody’s girl.

Answer 1

Best Answer - Chosen by Voters

yes it's good.

Answer 2

too many i trieds in the begining, u need to make it flow more

Answer 3

NICE!!!!!!!!! Sucked me right into the story and you definitly left me hanging for more. Great job! and that's a high remark from me, for I am a perfectionist in writing. There are a few parts that kind of rambled on, but I'm glad that you wrote through it and developed it into a true depiction of the family life. : )

Answer 4

the girl has been hurt for a long long time by her unhappy childhood memories. After her parents parted, it seems that she has never been loved any more, I mean parents love. That's the root for what she dreamed before, no safety ,lonely and helpless. The whole description is in great detail . Although it is a part of the whole story, to some extent, it's a good story.

Answer 5

The memories and observations in the story are very involving and true to life. I really enjoyed reading it - but I didn't want it to end! In fact, I don't think it should have ended where it did. While the last line was actually really emotional and powerful, I feel like something is missing in this story. Something needs to tie together the beginning and the end - like if she would describe the way she feels about the dream she keeps having and how it relates to her father/mother.

The writing style flows very nicely in certain areas and gets choppy, confusing, and displaced in others: Whenever they were together, they could be seen holding hands. When one of them said something, the other one would most likely laugh, not because of the content of what the other had said, but because they knew they were lucky to have each other, and because they were so happy to be around each other.

Breaking up the last sentence would make it more digestible.

Overall, the story was really good, and I think you have a lot of potential :)