No one reader is the same and you could drive yourself around the twist if you tried to please everyone, that being said you do not just want to dump loads of information about the setting or the people in the story all in one go. You want the story to flow and the information about the surrounding to appear naturally.
This is my current draft chapter one in one of the stories I am working on. How do you think the description of the setting flows?
CHAPTER ONE
Even though the sunlight streamed through the tree tops as Aveline walked through the woods, she shuddered. She was surrounded on all sides by tall, thin, silver birch trees, with the mighty oak scattered among them. The cold autumn breeze blew under her worn, grey shawl. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders. I really should make myself a new one. The shawl barely covered her shoulders anymore. But she could not bear to replace it; her mother made it for her the winter before she died. It was almost like being held in her mother's embrace once more.
Slung over Aveline's shoulder were a hessian sack filled with firewood. Occasionally putting the heavy burden down, she collected some sweet chestnuts, with their gleaming brown shells. She roasted them when her family had little else to eat. As she bent down, the smell of decay from the damp leaves intensified. Taking a big inhale she filled her nostrils with the scent of the forest.
Though she stood in a place of beauty, where the fallen leaves shone as if they were forged of gold, her thoughts turned dark. Why does this world have to be such a cruel place? She did not know if it had always been that way. The small lonely world she occupied certainly had no kindness in it.
Being only sixteen summers old, she had yet to venture far from her village; the furthest she had been was the surrounding forest. Most people in the village found the woods creepy and were wary of venturing too far. Perhaps old superstitions kept them away. But to Aveline, they were peaceful. She loved the smell of the wildflowers. They covered the ground like a multi-coloured blanket.
The best part though was the sound of the small creatures and birds that called the place their home. She often heard the thud of deer running among the trees. Even the scratching of little rodents on the tree trunks added to the other sounds. Creating a tune that was like a peaceful song playing just for her.
The time she got to spend there was a balm to her soul, though she rarely stayed longer than needed. She had learned her lesson the hard way. The threat of a firm whack across her face from her father for taking too much time ensured she did not dare enjoy the peace for long. Remembering the sting from his hand, she automatically put hers to her cheek, wincing. It was not the worst Aveline had ever experienced, but she still remembered the pain.
Aveline was almost sure her father had not always been so cruel; she remembered a time when he would laugh and often smile. But she was very young then, the memories were faded to the point, she sometimes believed she had made it all up. Now all she ever saw was his anger and disappointment. Was she still his daughter, or just another mouth to feed?
He was always shouting about the hours he put in working the corn fields. He never even considered the work she did each day. She had been doing the work of a mother since she was six. Raising her younger brother, as best she could. He took after their father in many ways, but especially in his attitude toward her.
As she got closer to the outskirts of her village and the trees began to thin out, letting in more light, she started to shake slightly. It always happened like this. It would take her a few minutes to remember she was strong and she had survived so far. She would keep on surviving, no matter what.
A majestic white butterfly landed on a nearby branch and she remembered her dreams of one day being free and leaving this place behind. She still had a spark of light she held onto tightly, and her father could not touch it. She hid it deep among her mother's memories and kept them both safe.
Aveline's home huddled almost in the center of their small village. Their meager, cobblestone house was surrounded by other equally small dwellings. The farmers' homes and fields, in which her father laboured daily, lay on the outskirts of the village. A few of the farmers even had the luxury of owning livestock. But her family could very rarely afford the luxury of fresh meat or cheese. The walk gave her the time she needed to brace herself, but she always had to pass many other houses before she came upon her own home and the haughty stares of their neighbours.
As her home came into view she saw her father waiting in their doorway; he was large enough that he took up the whole space. He was looking at her with his dark brown eyes, which almost looked black with anger. She tried not to shy away from him as he moved to let her pass through the old, red door, which barely held on. She did not know if that was from the age and how ill repaired their home had become or from the many times her father had slammed it.
Aveline's younger brother, Ethan, sat on the bare floor of their small living space. He was carving into a piece of oak, bringing to life a little rabbit from within the wood. He had a natural gift and she treasured the collection of small animals he had given her in the past. As he heard her approach he turned and gave her as much an indignant look as her father had, with the same dark eyes. Just as she was putting the firewood in front of their small fireplace, her father bellowed at her, “Where is our food? I work all day and come back to see my ungrateful daughter absent and no food prepared.”
The shock of his voice made her drop the firewood. Scrambling to pick it up she noticed the large muscles in his arms flexing and his lowered eyebrows, which made her feel even more perturbed; it was always a sign his displeasure was reaching its peak. As her hands started to sweat, Aveline cautiously replied, “It will not be long, Father.” She scurried off to reheat the vegetable soup she had prepared earlier. They had run out of the dried meat she usually used in the soup, and Aveline very much hoped it would not start another altercation.
Another day in this living hell. She did not know whether to miss her mother or envy her the peace she must have found when she left this mortal world. This will not always be my life, she promised herself.
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