Dabblings

Don't laugh at me, but I'm writing a story. Or trying to, anyway. It's based on Purim (not exactly original, I know) and I really need feedback from people who aren't blood relatives of mine. Please tell me what you think, I'm very insecure about my fiction.

The straw mat of the palanquin was draped in bright silk, but Haddassa could feel the rough wicker weave through the delicate gauze. She shifted, lowering her head back to the slick pillows and tried to feign the lazy grace that had personified her companions of the past year. Gritting her teeth, Hadassa grimaced at the tense, rigid lines of the body that refused to adopt any semblance of calm and moved into a sitting position.
Instantly, the two wenches by her side began twittering in forced anxiety. Was she in discomfort? Did she need refreshment? Was the heat effecting her? Anything at all she might require, she need only request...
Haddassa demurred quietly, waving the girls away. Needs were relative, she had learned early in her life. The palanquin was stifling even in the waning heat of the Arabian twilight, and the rough weave of her frugal dress chaffed every loosely draped inch of her body, but these were familiar, almost welcome discomforts. Haddassa would gladly have tripled these paltry inconvenience if it would only quell the helpless terror percolating to a boil within her. Not since the previous night had she been able to snatch a single quiet moment for herself, and she had spent much of the night enveloped in such a state of frantic prayer that she had quickly fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Desperate for distraction, Haddassa began to slowly relive the day so hastily past. She had not been roused until a full hour after sunrise, when the most delicate of morningscents permeated her awareness. She opened her eyes slowly and instantly regretted the reflex as she took in the scores of eager maids and manservants crowding her room.

So- should I continue?

Have a good Shabbos!