I tried to stay true to what was there, not change or embellish. But I'd consider it an early draft, and I'd go back in and rework every sentence. One thing you might try is to take it sentence-by-sentence and write little sub-stories, then trim with a chainsaw.

Like:
She cried when she told me about her pet dogs over the years that she lost to a logging truck passing by. (I can't see this, to be honest - several dogs to one logging truck? It does make me scratch my head.)

So I might write a little story:
She told me about the stray she'd taken in, a rough-coated terrier who smelled like skunk cabbage and would never be considered beautiful. But when she fed him the beef stew she'd made for her own supper, and when she ran her hands over the bony frame, he rewarded her with a laughing face and a hind end that collapsed beneath enthusiastic wagging. He'd made his home with her for many years, refusing to come inside her shack, but forever protecting her front steps. Then, with head bowed and her voice scraping past her throat, she told of the day she lost him to a logging truck. A single tear escaped as she explained that the driver didn't even stop to say he was sorry.

Then trim to better fit the word count:
Her dog, a laughing terrier who smelled of skunk cabbage, was lost to a logging truck. The driver didn't stop to say he was sorry.

Like Sharon said, it's all about plugging away.

Thanks Sharon. I should a been more informative with what the lesson was asking for, so it's my fault if anyone was giving more suggestions than I needed. I appreciate everyone's help with this as I've been learning much with this first lesson with the help of all of you. Much appreciated.

Kevin

O.k here is the final. I figure there still might be some work to be done, but that's where the instructor can learn a bit about my writing, right? The instructor wants to uncover my weakness so I think what I have so far is enough to submit. I'm about 26 words over the 500, but I imagine that won't be that big of a deal. They ask for it to be as close as possible.

I've learnt so much just from all of your suggestions. I will open this thread back up later on when I have my results and let you all know how I did. I will even share my weakness and strengths, but I imagine many of you have already found that


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Hilda

Everyone knew Hilda as the women who lives in a shack in the woods.

I was a boy, and she was old to me, most likely in her 50’s, but I might have been deceived by her gray hair and wrinkles. Her shack was about seven miles from town, down a busy logging road. Trips into town were difficult for her to tread.

Hilda lived in that shack by choice. She inherited a house from her family that was moved there ten years prior. It was much better insulated against the cold Northern, Ontario winters. Many of the townsfolk tried to persuade her to move into the house. My father tried to persuade her, she kicked an empty bucket in the air and snapped “I’m a very stubborn German, and I don’t want to move into the house.† I sensed she was growing annoyed with everyone trying to persuade her, and took it out on dad that day.

I remember walking into the shack for the first time with my father, one of the few people concerned with her wellbeing. Hilda handed me a rusty toy that looked like it might a come from Germany. It looked old enough to have been her own toy when she was a child.

She offered us something to drink; I answered “no,† afraid of what she might be serving. This shack was a scary place for a little boy. Her loud voice and German accent didn’t help.  

Curiously, I watched her while she put wood in the fireplace. She was wearing clothes that appeared way too large for a women of her size, dirty and greasy like her hair. The sweater and bush jacket she had over top looked more like they belonged to a big man, but my father had never mentioned anyone else living there. She turned around and caught me staring at her with a serious and scared look on my face, afraid I was caught doing something wrong. 

I think she knew how I felt, because she started to talk soothingly to me as if an attempt to make me feel more comfortable. She told me tales of her life in the woods. She cried when she told me about her pet dogs over the years that she lost to a logging truck passing by. I started to feel comfortable enough to take her up on that offer for a drink. She reached into her little white cooler and pulled out a can of soda. I graciously thanked her while looking for an expiry. There was none, but drank it anyway. 

Our visit came to and end, and we had to say goodbye, but we came back often. Every time we left, Hilda would shed tears, and sometimes even sobbed, making both my father and me feel terrible. She must have been lonely out there alone in those woods.

After that first visit, I became attached to Hilda. We called on her frequently throughout my childhood, and I often think of her today. Hilda still lives in that old shack, refusing to move into the house next door, for reasons she refused to share.

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Thank you Sharon. I read over assignment 2 and I think Hilda story will be shown more as there is a lot more about her and backstory I want to tell. The house alone has a story to tell. The house alone is probably worth nothing but the wall to wall antiques probably worth $50,000. Might go visit her this weekend as this assignment has made me miss her more. Again thanks.

Sounds positive Kevin. Good luck with your short story.