Ahaha I over-describing was one of the biggest comments I got from last year. If you can include some tips on avoiding this in your feedback (for tomorrow) would be greatly appreciated 
Beads of sweat trickled down my thighs. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the humid weather or the fact that my frail grandmother had placed herself in front of me, her wrinkles bunching up near the corners of her eyes as she squinted. I would potentially get rid of these two sentences as I feel like they aren't that important and without them there is more of a sense of mystery to the story. Her bony fingers tightened around the wooden cane, the thumping sound of the wood echoing with the tiled floor. Her steel grey hair had been parted on both sides, as if it were a curtain revealing the secrets that hid within her wrinkles. Every wrinkle seemed
like ato tell a different story. Yet I never bothered to ask.
Great last two lines - short and tells a lot!I shifted in my leather seat, uncomfortable that I was under the scrutiny of the frail old woman
- my Grandmother (this is if you delete the first two sentences as I have suggested as finally you would reveal to the reader who the old lady is) .
The tick-tock sound of the clock echoed, filling the deafening silence between us. The room was consumed by a deafening silence.I wasn’t sure how to communicate to her with my broken Indonesian.
A loud clatter filled my ears.
My grandmother pushed a large album aside, placing her mug down next to the kettle and the empty cup. Curiosity gnawed inside me, so I leaned over, pulling the album closer. Dust blanketed the soft material of the photo album, the gold lace of the material fraying.
The album sunk into the gap between my legs, the corners of the album digging into my skin.An example of where I think the description is a tad unnecessaryThe old musty smell filled my lungs, revealing a sun-bleached photograph
as I opened the album. Creases cut through the faded expressions. Nevertheless, I could
clearly see the bright expressions on everyone’s faces. The young woman, whose veil was pushed behind her, revealed the crinkles that bunched near her misted eyes. The bride stood tall and proud, a bouquet of crimson roses resting against the crook of her elbow. Her other arm was linked with a young man- an upright position, gloved hands; despite his stiff posture, warmness emanated from his eyes. My eyes flicked between the two content figures- my grandmother in her youthful self, and the unfamiliar young man.
I glanced back at my grandmother, who was now interested in the object in my lap. The corners of her lip quirked, nostalgic at the sight of the photograph. Her glassy eyes shifted from the photograph to my own eyes. I glanced back to the photo, curious who this man was, then back to my grandmother’s eyes
, the harshness slowly disappearing.I pointed at the man. “Who is he?” I blurted out, momentarily forgetting my grandmother’s limited understanding in English.
She fiddled with her cane, tapping the wood against the tiles rhythmically with the ticking of the clock. “He… your akong.” She croaked with her broken English. The rolling of her r’s and the sharp vowels revealed her strong Indonesian accent.
My grandfather. I flipped to the next page, displaying another photo of the young, happy couple. This time, pride emanated from the young man- starched collars and a creaseless uniform. His puffed chest displayed a row of medals placed on the left-hand side of his uniform- no medal was out of line.
A great subtle way to display that he was a courageous and honourable man without simply saying soDespite his lean figure- most likely from training- his cheeks were hollow; bony arms, thin wrists- it was as if he hadn’t had a proper meal in a while.
A small box was pushed towards me. My grandmother gestured towards the navy-blue box. Carefully placing the album next to me, I reached for the box, stroking the velvety material. Inside revealed the silver medals- ones that matched my grandfather’s medals. The metal surface gleamed under the dull lights, despite the coppery rust that has begun to eat away the edges
of the medal.“What happened?” I questioned her. She sipped on the now-lukewarm green tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. Her eyes wandered to the crumbling plaster on the magnolia wall. I followed her gaze, finding pellet-size craters with plaster clumped inside the crater. Absentmindedly, she traced the rim of the mug with her finger, her gaze transfixed in the craters.
A sharp inhale. A sip of her tea.
Her gaze returned to me. “He gone.” Her eyes drifted back into the photo album. “With Batavia.”
The rumbling sound of transport seeped through the walls. I
frozehad no words. I wanted to move next to her; comfort her with my broken Indonesian. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure what to do.
The silence was killing me.
A bit cliched but still works.The sun suddenly shifted
, hiding behind the
fluffy clouds as the harshness of their beams faded. The gentle warmth of the December weather
hugged comfortedher weary body. The faint vertical lines on the skin between my grandmother’s forehead slowly faded, the tension from her taut muscles slowly being released. “Good man… your akong.”
I flipped back to their wedding photograph, her wrinkles now bunching up near the corners of her lips. “Good man,” she continued to mumble, her eyes focusing on tiled floors. Behind her blotchy skin, I could almost see the roses that dusted on her cheeks- it was almost as if she never talked about my akong.
Slowly, my grandmother lifted the mug to her lips, sipping the now-cold green tea. I hauled the album back onto my lap. No words needed to be exchanged.
All we heard was the sound of silence.
It is great that you are able to write a great story taking place in just a conversation. My only thought other than those expressed in my marking in the story is - 1) I don't entirely understand the correlation between the sun fading and the grandmother's change of heart.Just clarity there and your story, with some tweaking stylistically is ready to go! In terms of how to avoid over describing all I would say is - when using description make sure it has a purpose which will get your marks, so the description has to strengthen the discovery. For instance, if you went into detail describing the grandmother's wrinkles as you have and the discovery was hypothetically of the hardships she went through that is absolutely fine as the wrinkles are symbolic of her struggles and pain (which would be the main discovery made in this instance). Hope that helped 
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Topic: English Advanced Creative Writing (Read 9030 times)