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It was getting cold again, Memory’s summer long over over should be changed to past. Memory's summer long past, and fall almost over. Also, I think you should switch it around... Summer's memories long past, and fall almost over... and fall almost over, the temperature during the night had dropped considerably. Tevin pulled the collar of his letterman’s jacket tight around his neck and blew into his hands trying to keep feeling in them. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, hoping that his jeans would keep them warm. He started to pace, getting nervous that his friend hadn’t shown at the right time, in fact he was two hours late, but that wasn’t uncommon with his friends. They all seemed to go by their own clocks and those clocks were always at least two hours slow.

As he started Should be "as he continued to pace," considering he started too in last paragraph. to pace to keep himself warm, he saw a pair of headlights turn down the street and head toward the park. If it was his mediaOut of basic curiousity, what does media mean in this sentance? friends car, he couldn’t tell, but he eagerly moved toward the sidewalk anyway.
The car pulled Slowed to a stop or something along those lines. I don't think cars pull, but I could easily be mistaken to a stop just a few feet from him with the engine still running. It seemed odd but Tevin wasn’t going to complain, he had been out in this "Cold of the night, or just out in the cold," would work just fine cold night long enough to understand the comfort of a heater. When no one exited exited the car immediately the car he walked over to the driver’s window and knocked Just end at knocked, so as not to repetative on the window. His smile quickly fell from his face as he saw someone that he had never met before looking back at him, a quick glance to the right told him all he needed to know. He saw his buddy beaten and handcuffed in the back seat. Tevin broke out into a run, putting as much distance between himself and the car as possible.

He was just about on the other side of the park to the other side of the park when movement to his right caught his eye. He turned quickly to look, having sworn that the bushes had moved from where they were just seconds before. He looked back at the car he had just sprinted from, only to see that no one had exited to follow him. Thinking he was in the clear, he turned quickly and started to run again. A movement to the right told him that he was dead wrong. The bushes had indeed moved, all of them seemed to explode with men dressed in camouflage and face paint. He let out a small scream and turned to run back the way he came, but as his head... as his head whipped around, the last thing he remembered seeing was the butt end of a rifle flying in to greet him. After that, all he saw was black.

The man gave her a regretful look, immediately understanding, “What shall we tell the child?”

“My little butterfly,” the woman smiled[,] but the sorrow reached her eyes as she momentarily forgot the demon[,] to lean over the baby, her baby, one last time… “Tell her …tell her that her parents died a noble death to help their homeland.”

“And who, pray tell, are her parents?” the woman holding the baby asked before the elder could.

“Lorelei. Lorelei and Rivalen,” the woman, Lorelei, replied.

She leaned closer to the baby, cupping the its face in one hand as she kissed its forehead. A wave of regret hit her like a kick in the gut as she looked into her baby’s face. A face she would never see again. A face that would never know hers, her own mother’s. [I would combine the last 2 sentences: A face she would never see again; a face that would never know that of her own mother.] Pain wrapped around her heart as Lorelei knew that neither she nor her husband would ever be there to scold the child when it did something wrong or scoop the child into their arms to kiss all their[her] pain and fear away. These were joys that neither child nor parent would ever experience and it shook Lorelei to her very soul. [I would go with this revision for the last sentence: These were joys that both child and parent would never experience and it shook Lorelei to her very soul. ]

Lorelei stepped away from her baby giving the child one last look before regrettably turning to the door. Though her nerves screamed at her with every step she took, Lorelei kept on, refusing to look back even when a steady torrent of tears were[was] streaking down her face. She took a deep breath of finality when, at least[last], she stepped over the threshold and closed the door with a wave of her glowing hand.

As soon as the door snapped shut a harsh explosion shook the earth. There was a roar from the beast before a heavy object, most likely the demon, slammed into the door, almost blowing it off its hinges. Scraping could be heard as the demon seemed to be walking across the landing outside the door. Suddenly everything went quiet before an ear-splitting scream rang out. More scraping. Another earth shattering explosion. [Again, combine the last 2 sentences: More scraping; another earth shattering explosion.] For those inside, time seemed to drag on each sounds causing them to shudder and cringe. A final blood-curdling scream that left their ears ringing saturated the air followed by a deafening silence.

No one moved. No one spoke. They all stood where they were, staring towards the door, half-hoping[;] half praying that any moment the woman would walk back in. It seemed like an eternity until the baby’s cries broke through the silence, making many of them jump.

“Oh, shhh shhh,” the woman crooned rocking the small thing in her arms.

“Poor thing,” a man among the crowd commented quietly.

“What’s happening? What is it, Nalra? ” came the voice of a small boy as he squeezed his way through the people and began to jump up and down to try to see what the woman held. The woman, Nalra, bent to show him the babe.

85 Main Street.
Mr. Nicholas Baker.

The morning started a bit late. The residents of Main Street seemed to prefer starting their day with a little more sun than the fog would allow. But fog or sun, it didn’t seem to keepthe people... people of the perfect street from their new subject of gossip.
“Did you hear Mary? There’s a new resident to Main Street!” a refined, Victorian dressed lady asked. She wasShe is, or she's, or if you use it in third person her name is... something along those lines. Mrs. Banks, the well to do wife of Mr. Banks, a partner of the local bank. She smiled sweetly as she added some sugar to her morning tea.
“Oh really? Is that what all the fuss has been about lately?” Mary, a equally refined lady, responded. “My goodness, my Wendy couldn’t stop talking about how they were messing around with that old house down the street.”
“Isn’t is that so?... that so? I’m so glad they decided to sell that old place, it always looked so gloomy and empty before. I mean the paint was so old it was turning greyer than a hatter’s hair!” They both shared a short laugh at Winnifred’s reference to a near by shop keeper. “But blue…” she added in a slightly disgusted manner.
“Blue?” Mary asked, her tea cup hovering between the table and her lips. “I think blue is a perfectly fine color.” she said, anticipating her partner’s comment.
“Oh silly, it’s not that!” Winnifred defended. “It’s just a sad color! And you know what they say about what people color their houses. I don’t think we can have a sad neighbor! Not on Main Street!”
“Good morning Mrs. Banks! Mrs. Darling!” came a call from behind. The two turned at their called names to find a young lady in a lavender dress and pale blonde hair.
“Miss. Gibbons! Dear! What a surprise!” Winnifred greeted as she stood up from the table. “Please please, join us Isabelle dear!” she said, offering one of the spare chairs.
“Gladly.” Isabelle said as she took the offering. “Now what is all this talk about?” she asked sweetly as Winnifred called one of the waiters for another cup of tea.
“Well don’t you know- oh that’s right!” Mary said, “You’ve been in New Orleans Square for the past week.”
“That’s right! Oh Mary dear! We must inform her immediately!” Winnifred announced waving a worried hand over the table. “My dear, there’s a new neighbor moving in that old house today!”
To say Isabelle’s face was shocked would be an understatement. “A-a new neighbor? From one of the adjoining lands?” she asked nervously, her deep violet eyes wandering from Mary to Winnifred’s and back.
“Oh no!” Winnifred responded without care to Isabelle’s reaction. “Completely new! They say he comes from the Orange Country!”

"Uuuh[I would use something a little more literary, like "Er" or some such, if not get rid of it altogether.]...Ma'am? You're not allowed in there." The caretaker said, hastily walking towards her. [Perhaps change it to "The caretaker walked hastily towards her." Maybe include an extra piece of info, like "The caretaker walked hastily towards her, eying her with something between nervousness and annoyance."]

The woman ignored her and asked, "What's in there?"

"It's not important.[,]" T[t]he caretaker explained and tried to pry her away, [Maybe "...explained, trying to pry her away."] "It's nothing,[;] just come with me please."

The woman shook her off and reached for the brass knob. It turned easily and the door swung open.

Inside was another bedroom. It was different from everything she had seen so far. It was small, dark, and plain. There were no windows and the only thing giving off a faint light [Maybe instead of "...and the only thing giving off a faint light...", "...and the only source of light..." -- The word faint is a good adjective, but with this sentence it doesn't quite fit.] was the lamp on the desk, almost burned out. A bunk bed with plain white blankets was pushed against the wall with it's [its] head in the corner. It was only about a no 'a' two feet away from the dark brown desk, which was pushed against the other side of the wall.

Once again[,] the caretaker desperatly [desperately] tried to get her away from the door while trying to tell the woman's husband to stay were he was. The woman resisted the pull and looked around the lonley [lonely] room until something in the shadows caught her gaze.

Two children, [If one wishes to use a dramatic sentence fragment like this, a -- would be more effective than a comma.] twins. One was sitting on the bed while the other one was crouched on the floor, hidden by the darkness. When the first noticed the door opening, they stared. [The subject shifts from one twin to both here. I would suggest scrapping this sentence, or at least moving it to a place after their descriptions have been completed.] Both the children looked exactly alike. Their hair was darker then [than] the shadows that surrounded them and their eyes were a soulless gray. They were small and probably around the age of four. The boy crouched on the floor was covered head to toe in black. He had a black short-sleeved tee shirt, black jeans, and black and white converse shoes. [Is it necessary to define the shoes as Converse? Or would it be sufficient to simply say 'canvas shoes' ?] The other one was a living rainbow. His shirt was tye[tie]-dyed with every bright color known to man. His white pants had globs of colorful paint stained on them and his sneakers had rainbow laces and were colored a neon green and yellow. [I think there may be too many uses of the word 'and' in that sentence; perhaps find a way to condense it, like "....stained on them, and his sneakers, adorned with rainbow laces, were colored with neon greens and yellows."] When their gazes met[,] the rainbow child smiled, but the dark one glared like he was going to kill them.

The caretaker pushed the woman away and slammed the door as fast [quickly] and loudly as she could. She frantically took a set a keys out of her pocket and locked the door. "silly me.[,]" She said nervousley [nervously], [.] "I forgot to lock it this morning."

"Who were those children?" The man asked, coming up from behind.

"Children?" The caretaker replyed [replied][,] more calmly [this time. "I assure you, there are no children in there."

"I saw them!" The woman said [The exclamation mark indicates a little more passion than simply saying something-- perhaps she cried it?], trying to open the door again. "Two of them. They were in there!"