palm reading about love

Source : Yahoo AnswersQuestion : I’m curious as to if anyone would read this or not. :)?

(Here it is, just the beginning of the first chapter. Oh, and don’t worry. I have it in the right format, yahoo just pushes it all to the left. Also, the MC is twelve, and calling her mother Mommy is something that she’s always held on to.)

Memory Number One

“Mommy!”
The screech sets my throat on fire, but I don’t care. My mother. My own mother. She’s all I have left. They can’t take her. I won’t let her do this. No. No.
“No.” It’s as if my mother is reading my thoughts. “We’ve talked about this, Evol.” Her voice is perfectly calm, at ease–almost reassuring. “In fact, I think it’s time. They’ll be here any minute now.”
“Mommy!” The sobs rack me, punish me for letting her do this, for allowing it to happen. “What if you’re not useful?” I’m screaming through my tears now. I know how hard it is to screech and sob by this point. And I’d hate to lose my voice before our goodbyes. “What if they…they…” I can’t finish the sentence. I can’t think it. I can’t say it. No matter how much I believe it’s what will happen. The deepest, darkest imaginings in the pits of my black life will be here, arriving at the doorstep in just minutes.
“Oh, don’t worry. There’ll be nothing to see. If they don’t like my level of intelligence, they’ll shun me away. They can’t afford another death, Evol. The human race is perishing. There’s not too many of us left. They need me.” All meaningless sentences, which we force ourselves to believe.
“Then why can’t I be out of hiding? Don’t they want to know what I have to offer?”
“Not until you’re eighteen. Right now you still have a chance of growing. Learning.” She pauses, turning away from the door in our small kitchen, waiting for their arrival. I throw my face into my palms, trying to block these scarring images, sobbing so hard, I don’t know how I’m managing to breathe. Mommy pulls my hands into hers, bending down to rub my cheek gently with her frail fingertips. She’s trying to comfort me–but she knows as well as I do that I’ll never be okay with my life again. “Existing.” The word is a breath.
My mother, with her young age, bright green eyes, and even her prematurely graying blonde hair, will be gone. All gone. Not here, there, anywhere on this earth. Not living.
Gone.
“No, Mommy! I won’t let them take you! Please, please no! Hide with me! Don’t risk it. Don’t do it.” But my pleading is in vain. If they come here, they come knowing the house is not abandoned. That’s why we got it. The note–something that changed everything. It is like a warning of death. If you run, they’ll make it worse. If you attempt to conceal yourself, they’ll announce the amount of blood there was on you when you died to your family. But if…if you come willingly, they’ll go easy on you. Make it quick. They’ll keep it quiet. Your family can then pretend that you were smart enough, that they took you to go live another life a ways away.
I shudder involuntarily, remembering when I was seven and my mother had explained this to me, with my father’s face buried in his hands, as we huddled around the fireplace. How dead her expression got, how she started to cry, rocking me in her arms. I had been frozen with indecision. When your parents did not know which way to turn, you didn’t either.
So pretending is what we use to ebb the pain. Let’s just say they got away, believe it…
But we all know. And if you get in their way during their procedures, they’ll kill you too. That’s why I have to stay trapped. Hidden. Safe as it gets. But my mother?
No. They can’t do this to her. We’ve been out here, living like animals in the woods for so long. Now they’ve found us. All vulnerable and open from every angle in our small clearing. And they discovered Mommy.
Old enough to take the test.

Answer by Corbin
There are good websites for proper feedback for things like this:

http://www.creative-writing-now.com/how-to-write-a-story.html

http://storywrite.com/

http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php

and there is another called http://www.writing.com/

You can use those places, check out forums for tips and feedback critique, etc. It’s best to stick to sites like that. You will feel more motivated to continue your work amongst those who are also aspiring writers. Dive in!

Answer by Sofia
Okay, so I’ll answer again: I loved this extract and I would read the story. What you mention now about Mommy is good, I like it. 🙂

Good luck with writing the rest!

Source : YoutubeWatch this video on palm reading about love

Naya Rivera Palm Reading

Written by LoveDrNikki

I was born with my innate gifts of clairvoyance (see things), clairaudient (hear things), clairsentient (know things). By the time I was 3 I knew there were things that I knew that I could not tell anyone about because they got really weird if I did. At 13 I got my first deck of tarot cards (Ryder – Waite) and started doing readings professionally.

At 16 I had my first near death experience when I was in a pick-up truck that hit a semi-tractor trailer truck. My dad had died several years earlier – and he had been a semi-truck driver. I was fortunate enough to receive my Father as a Spirit Guide that day, My second NDE was when I was 18 – I was in a Piper Cub 2 seater aircraft that did a hard landing into the side of a mountain. I have spent my entire life studying and working with the wyrd and wonderful in all its guises. While not required by any means I enjoy using the Tarot or any of the other divination tools I have at hand you may want to use for your reading.

I have Doctorate Degrees in Divinity (D.Div) and Theology (Th.D.) from Northern Lights Seminary and continue to study. Among some of my other titles are Psychic Minister, Esoteric Minister, High Priestess, Shaman, Spiritual Coach, Psychic Coach, Psychic Healer, Life Coach, Relationship Coach, Small Business Consultant, Paralegal, Executive Director and College student. I am honored to be a “reader’s reader,” meaning that many of the people do readings for are readers or spiritual workers themselves.