Title: Being too calm.
Image by NicOla from Cheshire | in writing, fiction, short stories
I lie propped up against the wall in the corner of the main room at youth club. Everyone else is in the little room, watching a film. Nobody saw. Nobody knows. I am made (by my own mind) to watch it again and again- what just happened- I am punished again and again. Punished for a crime I did not commit. My brain streaks off on its own, choosing different angles from which I can calmly observe the worst moment of my life, just in case I might see a different side, get a little more perspective. From where I芒聙聶m sitting, I can芒聙聶t really envisage that happening anytime soon. I realise I芒聙聶m drifting, losing myself. Oh help, if I芒聙聶m losing myself just sitting here, what chance are the others going to have when they find me? If they find me. Shut up. They will. They芒聙聶re my friends- they芒聙聶ll realise I芒聙聶m gone, any second now. They will. But then, I thought she was my friend too. Just shows how wrong you can be. I suddenly realise I芒聙聶m hardly feeling it. By talking to myself and thinking about something else, well, sort of, my body has blocked my pain receptors, stopping it hurting physically. Heaven knows it hurts mentally. I trusted her! Sort of. My breathing is becoming shallow and fast; I芒聙聶m panicking, working myself up. Stop it! Stop it now! Concentrate. Just stay calm, I tell myself. After all there芒聙聶s nothing else I can do right now that芒聙聶s going to be of much help in this surreal situation. I look down at the knife sticking out of my abdomen and the way my blood soaked hand curls around it like a sleeping cat, applying pressure, stopping the blood flow. I芒聙聶m not really doing very well, I observe; there is a pool of my scarlet blood gathering upon the floor next to me. I hope it will come out of the carpet. I芒聙聶m thinking too much. Rambling off on one, daydreaming- like I always do when I芒聙聶m facing something I don芒聙聶t want to be up against. Like her, it would seem. Her and her stupid, selfish attitude. I look down again and it dawns on me that I芒聙聶m being totally stupid. Just waiting here, expecting someone in the other room with the sixth sense (i.e. no one) to come and save me. They芒聙聶re only in the next room, for goodness sake, I芒聙聶m surprised they didn芒聙聶t hear her stab me in the first place. Although, her hand over my mouth (almost suffocating me) at the same time probably did have something to do with it... The knife glares back at me and I take a deep breath. With an energy that comes from nowhere, I begin to shout. 芒聙聹Help! Please, somebody help me!芒聙聺 And they come running.
Comments
Hey. :)
I enjoyed it, but I have some criticisms, albeit basic ones.
Mainly, it's the length to which you described basically you dieing. Perhaps it would've been more effective to withdraw it until the very last few sentences, but drop more hints like feeling faint etc.
That's all really, otherwise I really enjoyed it. 4/5.
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I like it!
here's some construsctive critiscism though- I think you could have put perhaps a bit more sadness into the tone of it, and bit more time on the description, as U14156695 said. Also, i see how you were trieing to use the little symbol things as a's and what they're trying to get across, but personally i feel it just makes it hard to read! ( altough that might be my eyesight!)
well done, i think 8/10 :)
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