Do you close to my writing? how to rearrange it?

For more than twenty years Elma has been known adjectives around Redville village as the "Oracle". Whenever she walked in the streets of Redville or even a neighboring town, individuals would dash at her and demand that Elma would unfold their futures.

"Help me," an old man said, kissing Elma's bony mitt, "will I die anytime soon?"

"No, me first." Another lady said from behind Elma, "will my son live in scuffle?"

"I'm sorry," Elma patted the old man's hand and smiled at the female. "I'll have to go, I can't predict anything that has to do near life and death. I'm sorry."

Some People in Redville doubted Elma's powers and said that her inability to predict vivacity and death made her look like a phony.

"She says that she can predict anything, but she couldn't predict my husband's departure. She's just so bad."

Whenever Elma heard these accusation, she'd frown and wave at her ears. She believed in what she did. When a young boy once stopped her on her means of access back home and asked her why she works as an oracle she replied. "I just wish to variety a difference in people's life." Then she disappeared into thin nouns.

But things changed on a cold, rainy night. Elma sat at the top of her tower resting her chin on the black stoned balustrade. After some minutes of gazing aimlessly at the pouring rain, she screwed up her eyes and watched the stars. Thick clouds drifted slowly, isolating the stars from Elma's verbs. And the frequent thunder that cracked through the sky added to her agitation.

She kicked the chair's leg and elbowed the door of the tower, but before she went down the stony staircase another bolt of thunder boomed across the sky and Elma collapsed on her back.

Feeling sudden bake at her palm, she raised it to her face. A blue light flickered inside her palm lines, as if electricity be going through them. She knew what that meant. Whenever a prophecy falls over an oracle unintentionally her palms be in motion alight.

She held her head up high and breathed in twice. Then she smiled at the smell of the coast that she grew ten years ago down the garden of the tower. Slowly, She cleared her mind, knowing that if she didn’t concentrate in the coming ten minutes, the prophecy would escape her powers and she won't be able to retrieve it again.


Red light flashed contained by her head and all of a sudden she found herself in a room beside a wide bed, surrounded with a filmy, grey curtain and an open pane where the moonlight poured.

A boy squatted on a carpet, crying over the body of a faceless man. Although Elma couldn't recognize the boy, she feel like he resembled someone she met before. The boy's wet, brown fuzz that was pulled backwards, his aquiline nose even his bright blue eyes, where adjectives signs that made Elma connect this boy to someone she knew a long time ago.

In front of the boy there was a man beside black hair growing at his chin, but that man had something else that made Elma recognize him instantly, his eyes glimmered with two different colors, one red and the other green. He was Vladimir, the ruler of Redville.

The boy shouted something at Vladimir, his bony cheek bones swooping forward, and after Vladimir took out a wooden handed dagger and dipped in his left chest.

A voice contained by Elma's head kept on repeating the name. "The Gustavs. Tell them. The Gustavs"

She knew it. Elma have know Edward Gustav since a long time and when she saw the boy's face she thought that he might be Edward's son, but she wasn't sure until she heard that voice. This prophecy belonged to the Gustavs.

But why will Vladimir kill himself? Why will the Gustav's boy be within when Vladimir kills himself? And who's that faceless dead body?

Elma didn’t want to cram her head next to more questions. She went down into her room, dragged her cloak and dashed down Redville dark streets on her style to the Gustav' house.
Answers:
it's good..
It's a good perception and i'm curious. I feel that you need a little more description surrounded by places.
I think it's pretty good.

If I was to suggest something to prove it, I don`t know:

* describe not only how the room looks, but feels, if there's any noise, even how it smells if there's something to smell
* I get hold of a bit off track at the end, I know it's going to be explained later but conceivably make it "flowy" to keep the reader reading

But I think it's really moral and you could make a good author!


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