What do you think?

This is just a little of the novel I’m writing. What do you think?

Mordecai’s Magic Shop was chili that morning. The two round portholes that let the dawn rays were fogged and webbed with frost. The maroon walls were alive with purple light from the paper lanterns that dangled from the ceiling. Each quivered with a private flame. The violet light glanced off the different items of the store. Green wine bottles filled with remedies, crystal goblets, turquoise amulets, silver challises of holy water, tin mugs of herbs.
In the furthermost corner of the room, behind a bend lay a small tiny kitchen. A pot bellied stove murdered to itself. It had four burners, each holding a skillet, a kettle, a pot, and a griddle.
Three hooked strings hung from above the great stove, each holding a porcelain teacup, each with a different floral desighn. The room glowed with the tropical scent of mango and chamomile that resonated from the kettle.
In a large emerald arm chair next to the stove, an extre
extremely old woman with long, gray hair that draped down her back. She pulled a dress off the trifold and pulled it on quickly with lithe that was absurd for her age. She pulled the kettle from the stove before it’s screams woke Mordecai.
On the other side of the kitchen was a narrow black door, that led to a fork of corridor, each leading to a door.
The first led to a ridiculously stuffy room. The floors were draped with hand woven rugs. There was a great wardrobe filled with satin kimonos, silk scarves, and velvet slippers. On the opposing wall was a great bed with a blanket of Egyptian cotton and pillows as numerous as fallen leaves at Autumn. In the center of the room slept Mordecai. She was nearly as old as Bernice but not nearly as smooth in her movements. She had a beautiful, oriental face and long black hair. She looked as if she had fallen from a cliff. Her black hair making dark halo around her face which was as pale a barn owl’s feather from makeup that had not washed off.
She was frail despite the mask of strength she pursued.
This is where I come in. I was in the next room pulling my yellow rain boots on. It was a rare and joyful day when the rain did not pund on the twn of Zaliass. I shouldered my messenger bag with a change of clothes in it (if my trip took over night) and fetched an umbrella from the trunk at the end of my bed. I opened the door and stepped lightly down the narrow hallway, praying Bee would not be awake.
I backed out of the narrow hallway and closed the door gingerly behind me. Sitting in the emerald chair, green eyes flaring, head resting on her paws, sat the cat Bee. “Up so soon?” she meowed accusingly. I walked quickly past her, not wanting to be talked out of my adventure. I made my way to the door, the gray cat at my heels. “Where might we be going.” she said in her croaking voice. “Out.” I said curtly.
I was at the door now. It was and old door. It’s dark purple paint was chipping slightly. It had two pet flaps, one in the bottom left corner, and one in the top right. I opened the door, the brass doorknob was chilling against my skin. I slid my umbrella open and splashed my way down the road.
The sky was overcast. Dark clouds loomed like huge bed sheets, threatening to break upon the town. “Mordecai won’t be happy about this.” Bee snapped.
I almost laughed out loud. “Won’t she.” the sarcasm in my voice broke through the false pity with more force than I meant it too.
Sorry. This is the first time I ever typed it out. I probably should have mentioned that the main character’s a girl.. too late..
First of all, Stepho, HA! I’m not a great author. I’m fourteen in a month and this is the only thing good I’ve ever wrote. I think it’s a good concept but I think you should show it in action, not words. Instead of explaining about your sisters. Instead of explaining about your sister sucking her thumb, how about have it in a conversation as your mom drives you to school.. haha. Email me!