I am going to start commenting on your piece, page by page. I like challenges. Page one:

You can choose not to believe what I’m telling you, and I can’t change that.  But I urge you at least to listen to me.  I have a story to tell.

I would take this line completely out. Who cares if we believe you? You're going to convince us anyway.

You yourself know it had to have happened, because you were there, you saw it and felt it.

You yourself is very awkward. I would take out the yourself.

Goodness knows it isn’t that I haven’t tried, goodness knows.

Hmm. I don't know if I like the redundancy in this sentence.

And since I don’t have much to offer as physical proof, I guess I really can’t blame them.  Still, the fact stands that I was there.

Ok, the introduction could be shortened. We understand that it will be unbelievable. I would keep your strongest sentences, and get rid of the rest. We want to hear the story, not about how unbelievable it's going to be.

Oh, pardon me; I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.  My name is Christian Ellingwood.  I’m seventy-one years old now.  The winter of my life is well underway.  Soon, I’ll be dead.  It’s not something that I’m looking forward to, but it’s completely out of my control here.  Sometimes I fear it, but for the most part I’m reserved.  Whatever may come afterwards will be good enough for me.  I’m a God-fearing man, so I’ve got it set whichever way it goes.  Unless one of those Eastern religions turns out to be right, then I might be in some hot water.

Alright, now I get it. Your narrator is an old, rambling man who tends to go off in tangents. I especially like the phrase "The winter of my life is underway," it is great characterization for both how the character speaks, and also his physical age. I love the end part, too. This is a very strong paragraph.

I could get my whole wardrobe washed there for only a nickel.  He’d even hand wash my hats, which was a great service, since the grease made them almost unwearable after a week.

I love the characterization of his use of "kid's stuff" and how you relate it to his wardrobe.

Overall, I think you've done a great job in this first page of characterizing how the man is now, and how he was then. I'll be back with more comments! I'm under the weather so I can't imagine reading the whole thing today, but by golly, I will get this story extensively critiqued.

Well I'm about five pages into this story so far and i want to stop and make some comments. First of all I'm really enjoying it! I read the description of the story and felt like i was being taken into a Kurt Vonnegut story, so i read your profile and i guess you like his work. I had a class devoted to KV last year it was amazing. KV's books tended to make you look at the entire book and not take it in chronological order, which i really liked. I always wanted to incorporate some of that in my writing but have not figured out how to do it yet.

Alright on to your story

There is more than one world out there.  I know this has to be true, because I’ve been there.  Another world runs alongside our own, one of fascination and wonder.  You can choose not to believe what I’m telling you, and I can’t change that.  But I urge you at least to listen to me.  I have a story to tell.

 

            Everybody has a story that somebody doesn’t believe.  Try as you might to convince them, they won’t let it take root in their mind.  You yourself know it had to have happened, because you were there, you saw it and felt it.  It was a physical experience that you can’t ignore.  And yet, they say it’s nothing more than a joke.  Some will even call you a phony for it.

These two paragraphs seem kind of repetitive.  You told us in the first paragraph that something happened to you that we wouldn't believe and then you go on to say in the next paragraph on how we wouldn't believe it. I might take the first paragraph out and start with the second and go on to say how they call you a phony for it, but this is what happened to me... i don't know something a long those lines.

The winter of my life is well underway

I like that description

To find out, you’ll have to hear the whole story, so you’d better get yourself comfortable and fed

I don't like the fed part of this sentence. It doesn't flow right for me.  Grab some snacks and get comfortable, or something like that would work better. Just and fed is so straight forward, try using a different word that might help

As the bells on the door jangled, Wu turned around to face me.  He had a small, red handprint on his face and anger in his eyes.  All the while, his wife continued shrieking furiously at him in Chinese.  Before I could say anything, he yelled at me.

I really like the imagery in that paragraph.

For some reason or another, I got goose pimples all over as I came within reach of the door.  But I ignored them.  It was just a junk shop.

These couple sentences don't flow right for me. I don't know how i would reword that, but i will get back to you on that. Just seems like it is missing something.

He busted out laughing.  Within moments, I too joined him.  Loony or not, I had to admit the man had a sense of humor.  I always did find ads on the radio to be a bit spontaneous.  You don’t usually go up to somebody and ask him, “Gee Bob, how did you get your shoes so shiny?”  And even if you do, you don’t expect him to reply, “Why, it’s simple Joe!  I just use Carl’s Famous Shoe Polish!  Guaranteed to give you shoes you can use as a mirror!”  And ads are just as phony nowadays.  But that’s getting off topic.

i love that paragraph it made me laugh.

Alright well i will comment more later. Thanks for the great story!

Alright I am back for a few more comments

“Yes, Rickets,” it replied.  “Rickets Almanac.  You can call me Rick.  Or Rickets.  Or Rickets Almanac.  Or Rick Almanac.  But don’t call me late for dinner.”

I really like that it made me laugh.

I really like the names of the people on this new planet, but i was hoping for some more description of the planet. I'm sure there is more to come, but this would be a perfect opportunity to say WOW this place is different.

Without warning, he suddenly made a series of horrendous, high-pitched clicks, beeps and squeals.  The closest thing I can think of to compare it to is the sound of dial-up Internet connecting.  I still cringe whenever somebody has to use it.  And even then, that’s not shrill or piercing enough.  Whatever Rickets was saying, it was bad enough to make me sick to my stomach.

That simile doesn't work. It doesn't seem to fit the time period. The guy is doing his laundry for a nickel and using a shoehorn. Has dial-up internet been invented yet? (if it has that is some really cheap laundry )

Alright i will be back with more comments, thanks again for this story I am really enjoying it!

Well  I am back for more, i like reading your story more than my homework. Got to love Kant, and philosophy in general. Anyways I am on page seven and eight.

It was hard to keep my balance walking down it; it had to be at least a seventy-degree angle, if I remember my geometry anyways.  Never could stay awake in that class.

I liked that, it made me laugh

It had depth, just like any other river, and it flowed just like any other river

That sentence doesn't flow right for me. I don't know it seems kind of repetitive. It does this like any other river and it does this like any other rive. Try switching up your choice or saying it flowed and had depth like any other river.

If I had, I’d probably be a vicious blob of flesh

is vicious the word you are looking for here? It seems out of place.

Rickets and I continued on, under the still mystifying Golingord River, out into the Golingord Flats.  The Flats were like a lower version of Golingord Heights, only there were interesting sights to be seen in the distance.  To what I could only assume was north, I saw a craggy looking bunch of tall spires.  Referencing that direction as north, then to the east I saw a bundle of floating orange squares, floating slowly around a spiral of upside down pyramids.  In the west, there was what looked like some sort of booth sitting on the very edge of my range of vision.  There was a gentle stream of smoke coming from what I assumed was a chimney.  I would have asked what they were, but I started to think Rickets was getting annoyed with me.

Ah there is the description I have been waiting for I like it!!

alright I am back for more   This is such a great story i just have been so busy with everything else. I am working on it though.

As we drew nearer, I could see smoke rising from between the mess of towers.  This of course indicated there was a fire, so whatever doubt I had in Rickets was slowly beginning to lift.

I don't think you need to say that indicates that there was a fire. The sentence would be fine saying the doubt you had in Rickes was slowly beginning to life.

Pebble Wimbledon, the greatest salesman there ever was, tricked him into buying a set of encyclopedias on a loan at seven hundred fifty-two percent interest.  Upon reading his first bill from the loan, he immediately committed suicide by leaping into the burning hot moon and melting himself. 

that made me laugh

Dunchan-Levowitz Totter is his given name.  He prefers to be referred to as the Angel of Death.  Once he spots you, he will not rest until you are destroyed.  And sadly, though he is the greatest threat, there is more than one way to die in the Badlands.”

I think you could go into more detail about what the angel of death does. How does he kill people, why?

HA i like that Poe was there, thats funny. Nice touch!

He started in the beginning, with K'inich K'an Joy Chitam.  In my own research, I found that he was the ruler of a Mayan city called Palenque from 702 to 711.  After arriving in Golingord Heights, the confused K’inich K’an wandered about for days, supposedly surviving by sucking on mud under the Golingord River and chewing on his leather shoes.  It was a miracle that he managed to stumble upon Golingord Acropolis.  On his arrival, he was given food and water by none other than Zunchar-Vocom Teppet, who managed to communicate with K’inich, after much difficulty, by scratching out pictures in the ground with a stick.  Having no prior experience with the shoehorns at this point, Teppet was amazed to learn of our world of Earth’s existence.

 

Chitam explained that he had found a shiny object half buried in the dirt and had stuck it in the back of his shoe as a display of tribute to the great feathered God Quetzalcoatl.  For many days, he carried it about in his shoe throughout Palenque, not suspecting what would happen later.  On the same day he arrived, neighboring city-state Tonina attacked Palenque without warning.  In fear of his life, K’inich ran to the Temple of Inscriptions, flipped up a loose stone slab concealed in the floor and dropped through it, assuming he would come out in the secret tunnel below.  Instead, he plopped out into Golingord Heights.

You kind of lost me here, it felt like one of those things that i kind of kept reading and reading and couldn't get the understanding of it.

   There is more than one world out there.  I know this has to be true, because I’ve been there.  Another world runs alongside our own, one of fascination and wonder.  You can choose not to believe what I’m telling you, and I can’t change that.  But I urge you at least to listen to me.  I have a story to tell. (This is excellent! You've got my attention. The possibly insane narrator, the impossible concept, great, great.)

Everybody has a story that somebody doesn’t believe. (Yes, you've already told me this.)  Try as you might to convince them, they won’t let it take root in their mind.  You yourself know it had to have happened, because you were there, you saw it and felt it.  It was a physical experience that you can’t ignore.  And yet, they say it’s nothing more than a joke.  Some will even call you a phony for it.

Well, I have a story like that, only not a soul on Earth I’ve told it to will believe me.  Believe me, I’ve told plenty of people about it.  Goodness knows it isn’t that I haven’t tried, goodness knows.  I suppose such a bizarre and harrowing experience is one that people would by default write off as ridiculous.  And since I don’t have much to offer as physical proof, I guess I really can’t blame them.  Still, the fact stands that I was there.

Oh, pardon me; I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.  My name is Christian Ellingwood.  I’m seventy-one years old now.  The winter of my life is well underway.  Soon, I’ll be dead.  It’s not something that I’m looking forward to, but it’s completely out of my control here.  Sometimes I fear it, but for the most part I’m reserved.  Whatever may come afterwards will be good enough for me.  I’m a God-fearing man, so I’ve got it set whichever way it goes.  Unless one of those Eastern religions turns out to be right, then I might be in some hot water.

Now, I’m sure you’re a might interested in what this place is I keep telling you I’ve gone.  Well, it’s hard to simply explain it.  To find out, you’ll have to hear the whole story, so you’d better get yourself comfortable and fed.  You probably won’t believe me anyways.  My grandchildren used to be fascinated by my stories, but now that they’re in their teens, they just laugh when I try to tell them about where I’ve been.  My children are the same way.  Even my wife refuses to believe what happened.

Oh dear, but I’m getting off topic.  I’ve yet to start my story.  Let’s see now, where do I begin?  Most likely the day it happened.  Yes, I remember that day well.  It was a warm day in April of 1956.  Back then, I was still a young fellow, only twenty-two.  I still wore my hair in a pompadour with that greasy kid’s stuff.  Still say that’s what made me thin out so much on top later in life.

It was a Saturday, I remember well, because I was taking my laundry over to Chinatown.  Fellow by the name of Wu Heng ran a great laundry down there.  The Chinese are such an efficient people, and they work darn cheap too.  I could get my whole wardrobe washed there for only a nickel.  He’d even hand wash my hats, which was a great service, since the grease made them almost unwearable after a week.

The day was unseasonably warm; it had to be at least eighty degrees outside.  Probably could have boiled water on the pavement.  I was getting awful hot, so I took off my hat and my coat.  Wu Heng’s was only a block away now anyways.

 

“Golly, sure is hot today,” I remember saying.

Just about a single sidewalk slab before the door, I turned my head and noticed a junk shop across the way.  Granted, I’d seen it before, but this was the first time I really paid any attention.  It was much like any other building in Chinatown, oriental in design and whatnot.  The front window had a shelf built directly behind the glass, which was open on either side, so you could see some of the mystical wonders he had for sale.  And by mystical wonders, I mean assorted junk, lots of which was worthless.