Am I a good writer? Please help!

I am twelve. I need help, am I a good writer? Please read the story below.

first story:
"Trick or treat!" My friends and I walked from house to house, hearing other kids repeat this phrase over and over exuberantly. The air was cool, the night was young and turning leaves occasionally fell from the trees. It was supposed to be a happy night, a good night. A night to remember. And oh, it was.
For all the wrong reasons.
After a few houses, I accidentally bumped into an older boy, probably in his teens. He had this deep voice and was really tall. Definately not someone to mess with. He didn't seem to care, though, he was talking to this other kid, a girl with white blond pigtails and these soft, little gray eyes which were welling up with tears. He was yelling at her. Why, I don't know. He just seemed angry.
"Keep walking," I whispered to my friends as I slipped past the boy and the girl. But his shouts were getting louder, and right when I turned my head he raised his fist and was about to strike the poor girl.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I said, looking at him with what I hoped was a steely gaze.
"None of your business, punk," he snarled. "Now get outta here."
"It may not be my business, but you're not supposed to hit people!"
He laughed and I felt myself crumble to bits. I couldn't do this. But I had to.
"Well, what's a little redhead like you gonna do about it?" I had seconds to ponder this. I had to think. No, he was right. What could I even do?
"I'll tell your mom, that's what I'll do!" I watched his face go white.
"You-- you don't even know my mother," he replies, but he steps away from the girl, trembling.
"You better leave now, or else!" I raise my eyebrows and cross my arms and pray that even though I look like a midget in a vampire costume, I looked like a very intimidating midget in a vampire costume.
I did it! I don't know how anyone could be so scared of their own mother, but I did it! He scurries away like the little rat I know he is. The girl looks at me, and I stare back. She's thankful, I can see it on her face, plain as vanilla ice cream, but there's something else. She's really pale. I mean, really pale. Maybe she's ill.
I asked her with hesitation, "Sorry, but, are you okay?" She's looking at the sky, and she doesn't notice what I'm saying until I wave my hand in front of her face. "Who-- oh, me? Me, I'm, I'm fine." I give her a stern look. "No you aren't. Here," I say, holding out my hand, "let me feel your forehead--" She steps back, and it's almost as if the girl is gliding. "N-no thank you, I feel fine!" The other girls are looking at her reluctantly. Finally, one of them, Laurie, speaks up. "You can come with us, if you want." The girl looks at Laurie and the rest of us with newfound respect. "You really would let me?" "Sure," we all reply in unison.
It's a few hours later, and Pale Girl is actually quite nice. She's polite, loves animals, and is really very gifted at singing. She sang us songs while we walked, but she didn't know any of the current artists, she sang old songs. But it was okay with us. After a few houses, I say, "How about we go into that alleyway and look at our candy? I really wanna eat some of it." The rest of them agree, including the bullied girl, so we go into the alley. It was an old, smelly one with only one light that flickered on and off. But we didn't care-- we were hungry. We sat down and started rooting through our bags, trading, eating and sorting our candy. Just as I had handed someone a package of Swedish Fish, I heard the sound of kids talking. There was one voice in particular that made my skin definately crawl-- the kid who was harassing Pale Girl.
"Guys, I hear that mean kid," whispers Pale Girl. "We should go." But it's too late. The kids make a line, blocking us from exiting the alley. It's almost as if we are standing on a battlefield, like this puny army about to fight a giant dragon. And I have this feeling that the weak army isn't going to win.
"Hey you! Weird kid!" The big kid we met earlier yells, and we all know who he's talking about. We turn to Pale Girl, who looks frightened. Other boys, not as intimidating as the biggest kid, but still scary, hold us back so we can't help Pale Girl. All we can do is watch. Now, this kid doesn't resemble a rat anymore, he resembles a wolf, about to rip his prey to shreds. She gulps and bites her pale lip. He starts forward and reaches out with his big meaty hands to grab Pale Girl by her neck and squeeze the life out of it, and I almost can't look.
But his hands just pass right through her. She's not-- no, she can't be... A ghost? He looks at her, stunned. She looks even worse than before, sweating up a storm. Mouths drop open. My own heart seems to stop. The big kid opens and closes his mouth repetitively, like a goldfish. We're all at a loss for words.
Then suddenly, he laughs. One small laugh is all it takes. The other boys begin laughing too, but I'm sure their little brains don't even know why.
"Why would I be scared of you?" He speaks between laughs. "You're just a ghost! You can't scare me, you can't even hurt me!" The laughing gets louder, because the boys finally get it. Then something strange happens. I laugh. Why would I laugh? I don't like what they're doing to her! Pale Girl shouldn't be treated like this!
But Laurie takes this as a cue and starts chanting, "Ghost Girl, Ghost Girl!" And soon everyone is saying it, even me. Pale Girl looks like she's going to cry. She starts floating away, but we follow her, yelling "Ghost Girl" and whooping and screaming our heads off like insane criminals.
We all think it's harmless, enjoyable even, but it all changes when Pale Girl turns around. Her voice is hard. She stares at me and all of the girls. "I thought you were my friends." She says this quietly, and I think I'm the only one who catches it. Her eyes are glowing a murderous red.
"I said, I thought you were my friends!" Everyone hears her, and we all silence immediately.
"Now you're going to pay."
Everything went black.

A newspaper clipping reads:
Four girls and six boys went missing on Halloween night, near a dark alleyway. They were later found, but they were knocked out. When they awoke, they swore that they saw a 'ghost' of some sort. They all appeared quite pale, however, almost transparent.
Asked Apr 16, 2015
You are a good writer! dont worry, your twelve, if you were really out of shape, and really wanted to be a track star, you would have the time to make it come true! Writing fan fictions/essays/stories, reading books, watching things that get the imagination going (for me it was anime around your age) are good ways to practice. In the more academic side, studying English is great, take your book reports/stories seriously (enjoy it), ask your teacher, they are always willing to teach you more stuff! Your grammar will improve, greatly over the years if you just keep on writing! Keep reading books, watching good movies, listen to music and imagine stories! I was about your level when I was your age, really shy, awkward, and gangly, one day my teacher gave me a certificate for creative writing! I was so happy! Maybe I wasn't stupid, useless, and tacky after all! I read more books, try reading a classic like Brave New World (I thought it would be boring but it was very fun), and mix it up with some books for 10-17 (not gonna suggest stuff too mature), "The Lotus War" is a good one, personally, I think if you enjoy, and read enough great books, your writing skill improves as well! You are very advanced for your age! And even if you weren't, as long as you love it, and do it, it will all be fine! ( I'm thirteen by the way ;)
Answered Apr 16, 2015

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