Hey, I have to write a narrative + descriptive and wanted to make sure everything made sense and I use enough detail...here it is:
Getting Lost
Every day at 3:00 my dad would pick me up from school. Usually, he would be outside waiting for me, but when I got there I couldn't find my dad's silver car. I made my way down the line of cars, checking in each one for my dad. There were trucks, convertibles, and vans in all different colors, but my dad was not in any of them. So, I decided to sit on a rock outside of school. A few teachers stopped and asked if I had a ride home or not, to which I replied "My dad should be here soon, thank you." "They never take this long," I said to myself. It was going to get dark soon and I wanted to get home fast.
I had never walked home before. My friends had invited me several times to walk with them to school, but my parents never allowed me to. "It's not safe," my mom would say. Hesitant, I made my way along the rock-strewn road leading out of school. I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road leading away from school. "Which way did dad go? Left or right? I never paid attention," and now I was mad at myself for being too busy with my Gameboy. "Only one thing to do - flip for it."
Heads - my coin had landed on heads which meant I was going right. Down the street I could see a white, windowless van, and I heard dogs howling in the distance. It was clearly a more dangerous path, but the flip of a coin had never let me down. I took one long look back at my school, and set out on my journey.
Walking down the unpaved, rutted sidewalk, a cool breeze swam through the air. While this felt good, it also produced a loud whistle sound that startled me. The street lamps were broken; they had been shattered from a storm a few nights before. Glass from the light bulb still lay beneath them in the middle of the road.
I made my way down the street and noticed a few stores I had never heard of. Frank's Barbershop, Smith's Firearms, and Aqua Night Club, just to name a few. On the opposite side of the street, I noticed an old gas station. The windows were broken, the door was smashed, and the roof - what was left of it - had collapsed. As I got closer, an odor hit me like a blow to the face. This rotten smell was similar to a scruffy washroom or a sewage spill. In the distance I could see a flickering, orange light. It was a trash can fire. A man had been standing beside the can holding his hand up to the warmth of the flame. He had on a ruddy brownish-colored coat with holes and abrasions on the edges. He was wearing gloves - black gloves - with the finger tips cut off. A mauve snow cap was on his head, only partially hiding his thick, nappy hair. Accompanying his outfit were ripped pants and black, worn out boots. I had to get around him somehow. By the time I began thinking of how, it was too late - he had seen me. I heard a holler, "Hey, you!" At this point I jolted through the buildings on my right, slipped through a hole in a rusty fence, and ended up in an open field. I didn't stop running; I could feel a tickling sensation hitting me in the face as I ran through the four foot tall, uncut grass. When I had made it out I was coughing, wheezing, and worst of all I realized I was crying. I couldn't take this anymore, I wanted to be home. I lifted my head up high and noticed a familiar house. I was at the bottom of my street.
Wanting to get home fast, I picked up the pace and starting dashing through my neighborhood towards my house. I made it home and noticed our silver car parked in the driveway. I saw my mom coming outside. She looked surprised and asked, "What happened? Someone gave you a ride home after practice?"
I will try and help as much as I can, but I am far from an expert writer. With that in mind, feel free to use any suggestion you think will help.
"They never take this long," I said to myself.
You have only referenced your dad so far in the paragraph, but now you are saying "they."
Walking down the unpaved, rutted sidewalk, a cool breeze swam through the air. While this felt good, it also produced a loud whistle sound that startled me. The street lamps were broken; they had been shattered from a storm a few nights before. Glass from the light bulb still lay beneath them in the middle of the road.
You do not have a smooth transition from your sentence about the breeze to the senetece about the broken lights. I think you should tie it together and explain that the noise was scary because it was so dark.
He was wearing gloves - black gloves - with the finger tips cut off.
Saying "gloves - black gloves" sounds repetitive to me.
