Enderts Beach and other Secluded Beaches

Good short story from a student?

Hi I've been teaching a student of mine to write descriptive short stories. I believe he has progressed. I would like for you to tell me what you think of his writing, please: Make your own comments. Be as critical as you wish. While Joe stood on the balcony of his 2nd floor apartment, he looked down upon the street, noticing the vast number of tourists, hippies and middle aged men all enjoying the sun, all looking like they haven’t worked in years, and all looking so relaxed. Joe had just bought an apartment facing the busiest and most beautiful beach in Miami, Florida. His change of lifestyle came about through luck: he won lotto. The amount he won is irrelevant, but it is enough—- enough for him, enough for his friends, and enough for his family to all live a life of which most cannot even dream. About a month after he won, he left his friends and family to pursue a different, more vibrant life here, in Miami. Excited about his new home, he left his building to have a closer look at what he had seen from above. With his spirits high, he strolled down the main street of Miami, gasping at the countless skyscrapers and the idyllic scenery before him: on the other side of the road was a small concrete wall, which separated Miami’s city life—drug dealing, crime, business, banking, and prostitution—from the illustrious beaches which rested above a mesmerizing blue ocean, a blue that was illuminated intensely by the oppressive rays of the mid-afternoon sun. He was ecstatic to be in Miami and away from his less than desirable, mundane life back home; he yearned for a life of excitement, envisioning a life of wealth and prosperity immersed in a life of excitement--- even if the excitement were fuelled by crime. Fixing his purple swayed suit top, he walked to the entrance of a bar he spotted only seconds away from his building. Because of the amazing location, the bar was held in high-esteem by the public, especially the tourists, and was the destination for the rich and famous to flaunt their riches till the early hours of the morning. The facade was amazing: two creamy-white pillars enveloped a grand entrance, with a live band situated to the left of the entrance playing melodic jazz, a harmonious tune that filled the air with appreciation from the patrons. Inside the bar were shiny white walls boasting over-priced paintings, which looked like splodges of paint smeared across a canvas by an infant on crack. Above the bar was an excessively large, crystal chandelier overhanging a bar the size of a small pool. The room was filled with handsome, upper-class, middle-aged men in suits—suits that screamed class, pretentiousness and power. Alongside of them were their beautiful, younger women standing in silence as the men talked business and money. Despite the ostentatious behaviour that all men in the bar displayed, Joe liked the thought of now being one of them: one who treats his woman like a trophy; one who allows a girl’s presence for the possibility of a hand job in the restrooms; and one who is so filthy rich that they risk fame, fortune and reputation to grow their fortunes, only to find out that money does in fact buy happiness. Taking off his Gucci sunglasses and placing them on top of his greased-back hair style, he re-arranged his tie awkwardly as he walked to the bar to order a celebratory drink for his new-found fortune and new apartment in one of most amazing cities in the world. Upon ordering, he noticed a striking younger woman, sitting at the bar on her lonesome, showing a presence that all women would envy, stealing the men’s attention away from their own wives and sophisticated conversations which they formerly seemed to be so engrossed in. In Joe’s opinion, she was the most gorgeous woman in the room; in fact, he thought she was the most gorgeous woman in most rooms. Her uniqueness and gracefulness drew him in with unstoppable force as she glowed brighter than the many lights encircling the bar. She began to tap her ring-less fingers to the slow, soft beat of the bass guitar that reverberated around, and contributed to, the warm surroundings. It was the perfect moment for him to go and make conversation with her, he thought. And he had a confidence, brought on by his fortune, which he lacked in the past. He was a good looking man, young and sociable. He was taller than most of the men in the bar, which he realized as he walked through the many conversations going on around him. Smiling nervously at his new found love, hands shaking slightly, he walked over to her and said hello. Unexpectedly, he received a warm and inviting ‘hello’ in return. With little else to say, he decided to be gentlemanly, so he introduced himself with a soft hand-shake and a kiss on her hand. Blushing slightly, she proceeded to tell him her name: “I’m Sophia, she said, speaking softly but with confidence and assertiveness all the while. Hi, Sarah. Just thought I would let you know that it is not a run-on sentence. It is perfectly grammatical: Adverbial clause Main clause Participle phrase Participle phrase Oh, and my student is 14.

Public Comments

1. This is really good compared to most of the crap posted on yahoo answers. How old is this student?
2. There were a few grammatical errors-commas were needed in a few places. This is a run on: While Joe stood on the balcony of his 2nd floor apartment, he looked down upon the street, noticing the vast number of tourists, hippies and middle aged men all enjoying the sun, all looking like they haven’t worked in years, and all looking so relaxed. Try changing it to: While Joe stood on the balcony of his 2nd floor apartment, he gazed down upon the street, noticing a vast number of tourists, hippies, and middle aged men all enjoying the sun. Many of them look like they hadn't worked in years. Several adjectives are used over and over again. Softly is used twice within the last paragraph. I could be far more thorough, but I'm keeping it short. Overall, not a bad story.