Just wanna see what people think of my writing, i'm thinking of doing pet deions and such.

HERE:

    It was just around sunset, the time of day when all the reds and oranges of the sun blend together and turn the sky that oh-so-delicious marmalade color you see squeezed between two slices of bread. People walked about, not at all systematic, eager to enjoy a peaceful evening walking about the park and reminiscing. Two children, a boy and a girl, began to stroll up the big hill near the center of the park, one step at a time, while the air is filled with their jokes and laughter. The hill was huge and from it they could see the entire park as though they were an under aged king and queen looking down form their lofty thrones. Sitting down at the peak, they chatted as children do: flitting from one idea to another until a distraction caught both their eyes. Around the corner of the jungle gym appeared a woman and a man - a wife and a husband, perhaps. For a moment they seemed like the perfect couple, as if their hearts had been singing songs of contentment ever since their fates intertwined. But then something angered the man, it may be important or it may not have been, but he was in a temper nonetheless. His arm stretched out and delivered a sharp smack to the woman’s arm, which was already as blue and purple as if she had just been finger painting, her arm a canvas. Her eyes held no anger or shock in their depths, perhaps a bit of fear, but it was as though she had come to reconcile herself with this existence and thought she deserved no better. In fact, those eyes were quite blank. How was it that the ring on her hand still sparkled with the hues of a comet when her eyes could no longer?  After witnessing such a grungy situation, it's no coincidence that the children's faces were now tainted with fright. They gasped in unison, while their bodies were nearly shaking and trembling.
    The boy’s mouth opened in shock, “Why would he hurt her? My daddy always kisses my boo-boos, not give me more, and he would never hurt my mommy, he loves her.” His lip trembled. The girl merely nodded, she could not speak. A short term of abeyance had surrounded the hill, broken by the sound of harsh laughter and childhood rough-housing. The two turned their heads to find the location of such a noise and see a boy of about eleven years. He has a head full of carrot-colored hair, and the color of his eyes are painted blue. However, there’s something missing from his ex
pression, and this something makes him a clear victim for teasing. There’s a smile on his face, quite a toddler-ish ex
pression despite his age, almost as though he doesn’t notice the ring of children surrounding him, pointing and declaring statements of mockery. Almost as though he can’t understand what they are doing. With a murmured, “what is so funny?” slurred almost to the point of incomprehension, the other children find the desire to deliberately ridicule him further.
    “I like his hair, it reminds me of my pretty kitty’s fur at home, her face shone brightly with memories, “and he seems nice with the way he’s always smiling. He could be my friend, they should be kinder to him.” Her companion nodded, then turned somber.
    “Just like they taught us at school! You know, that ugh….golden rule or something…” His face screwed up into a look of intense concentration. “ummm….Treat others the way you, errr…. want to be treated! They both nodded vigorously, like bobble-heads, as if by consenting they could take back the teen’s cruel remarks and rectify the carrot-topped boy’s mental condition. Acting as though they were two young philanthropists.  The steady creaking alerted the pair to a disturbance toward their left.
    On top of a swing rested a teenage girl, rocking back and forth to a steady rhythm, musically, the beat almost mimicking the ways of a metronome. As her body flew straight up toward the sherbet- colored skies, it was obvious that she had found an oblivion in which she was truly happy, only no one was there to share this glorious moment with her. She was all alone with only her thoughts and a snapping in her chest to keep her company. She was what she was: a minority. With black silk hair and almond eyes, being Asian did not affect her emotionally or physically merely socially. A group of girls walk down, gossiping and giggling, all the stereotypical “normal” American. When she sends a greeting and a smile to them as the walk by, they barely glance her way-ignore her. Just because she wasn’t conventional. Comments follow, after all she looks so different how could they possibly be anything alike? And different means strange, weird and abnormal. The two children turned from the scenes of misfortune below them as the sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon, as if it was running from the horrors a pair of very ignorant children had just witnessed. The boy turns to the girl, on his face an ex
pression so grave its as if he had just lived his old life and was recounting his miseries as an old man.
    “Can you promise me something?”
    The girl wipes her eyes on her sleeve, looking everywhere, but her friend, “Of course.”
    “Promise me that when we grow bigger, after we’ve seen what those people have seen we won’t act like them. Promise me we’ll be different.” The two look out once more at the dark sky, hoping that there is some sun, even if its not visible now, that will bring hope to all these people. Hoping and wishing all this, even if their too young to understand what exactly these hopes and wishes mean.
    “Sure, I’ll even pinky promise.”