/lit/ - Literature

Posting this again because I came late to the last thread. It's the beginning of a story I really want to write because it keeps playing in my head ever since I remembered it happening to me.

It's stuck in my head though, having a really hard time getting it onto page. This is my opening paragraph and I just need some really harsh criticism to tell me where I'm going wrong.

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They dismounted their bikes at the other side of the road and began along the dirt path that ran through the dry-grass paddock and by-passed the highway. They road this trail every morning on their way to school and they knew it well enough to know that they did not know it during the night, so they walked with their bikes at their side. The path was their last and easiest obstacle; it took them far from the curious ears of the suburbs and led directly to their destination. Much further along its course it ran along-side the school and they could see that it was no different at night-time but both thought that it might still be fun to walk where they walked all the time but at night. They decided that they would on the way back and that the girls might come with them and maybe they could find something to do in there with no one watching. The path eventually ended in the middle of the paddock and at their feet was a crossroads of countless directions formed by children of all purposes going one way or another, each path eventually disappearing into the paddock not walked upon nearly enough to remain. Like many would before and after, they pressed on through the paddock and into the dry-grass. It scratched their legs and drew blood but they would not realize until later, for now the pain blended into the irritation of the grass and into numbness after long enough of walking.