Question by ??????? ??ç???g?å??: What do you think of the beginning to my new story?
Repost with more added.
Thanks 🙂

Chapter 1

Rimmie Finch lives in Burrell Drive, in the end house with the luminous red door, it was hard to miss. Vines crept up the stone walls casting an eerie spell on the building as an old, battered Ford Ka was parked in the driveway, snow falling onto the roof creating a layer of shining white.
“Dad, come on!” Rimmie pushed the front door open and yanked open the boot, throwing in three black suitcases which seemed to bulge with the amount of clothes and belongings stuffed inside them, probably creased, much to her parents’ annoyance.
“Rimmie, you’re gonna’ be the death of me child!” Groaned her Dad, hobbling out of the house with his gray hair scraped back as he gripped onto his walking stick.
Her Dad climbed into the car, and she watched in amusement as it sunk slightly, and she scrambled in after him, fastening her seatbelt.
“You gotta’ lose the pounds Dad, or you’re gonna’ end up like Mr. Green from the corner Shop.” She joked, laughing at the memory of the bald, rather chubby Mr. Green as he would glare at any teenager who would enter his ‘pride and joy’.
Every time Rimmie would enter he would press his huge, round glasses further onto his nose and scowl down at her.
“I hope you don’t buy too many sweets, bad for your teeth!” He would warn, and Rimmie would hurry out immediately, heart beating as fast as a hummingbirds wings.
They slowly pulled out of the driveway, and the neighbourhood houses rushed past her, and sadness engulfed her body as they left, pulling onto the long, twisting road.
Then it sort of hit her, like running into a brick wall. She would never return back again, to the place where her friends were, to the place where she grew up and had such an amazing childhood.
She quickly shook her head and sunk into the black leather seat, and sighed when she felt her Father’s hand tap her knee guiltily.
“I know how difficult this must be for you Rimmie, but you just have to accept it.” He mumbled, and he placed his hand back on the wheel and began humming along to the radio.
“Like Aunt Penelope and Granny Joyce did? I don’t think I want to accept it like they did.” She shivered at the thought.
“No, but just accept it in your own way. You’re a Witch, Rimmie. I know your just half one, and I know it may be difficult for you with all of these people being Sorbés Witches, but you have to cope with it. Me and your Mother will come see you every term, that’s one thing to look forward to!” That’s the first he’d ever spoke about Rimmie being a Witch, especially trying to make a joke out of it.
“Okay, Dad.” She mumbled, gulping as they pulled up at the train station, which seemed to be overflowing with people around her own age, chatting obliviously.

Best answer:

Answer by Marissa
It’s good, although the first paragraph doesn’t catch my attention very well.
Also, this is reminding me a lot of Harry Potter.

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