BryceSPQR
08-26-2013, 11:41 PM
Hey guys, this is the first thing I have ever attempted to write as a story. The idea is that this is actually fairly late in the over all plot. This is how the book will begin, then chapter one will be 1 year earlier. I hope to leave the reader curious about what happened to him. Do you guys like that idea? Ah never mind, just read it let me know what you think! I appreciate any advice (even mean advice). ;)
My Story
It was overwhelming sometimes. He dropped to his knees and focused on his breathing to try to make it go away. The pit in his stomach was taking his breath away. Most days he didn't even get out of bed for more than an hour or two, and when he did he would just shuffle around his empty house. Today the only reason he even got up was to unplug the phone down stairs. He had gotten a call two days ago and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get another one.
Hesitantly, he pushed himself off his knees and stood on trembling legs. The floor in his room was covered with dirty clothes, empty packages of ramen and soda cans. Sun peaked through the closed shades and illuminated some of the trash on the ground. He shuffled through the mess and opened his door. A burst of cold, stale air pressed against his face. The hallway was dark and dusty with high ceilings.
He walked past what used to be his only sister's room as he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. Just a few steps past that door was the door to his parents room. Both doors were closed tight. He stopped at the bathroom and leaned on the sink with his head down. He was hesitant to look up, afraid that his own face would remind him of everything he lost.
Slowly he looked up and locked eyes with his reflection. Pale blue eyes stared into each other, relatively unchanged compared to the rest of his features. Dark purple bags rested heavily under his eyes. Where his cheeks used to be flush, they were pale, along with the rest of his skin. His light brown hair seemed darker than normal and was matted down most places with a few odd spikes of hair sticking up. A patchy beard had began to grow, almost unnaturally.
He stepped back, wearing only his boxers, he hardly recognized himself. He recalled the days that he was tan, muscular and handsome. He didn’t care though, this was a better reflection of who he really was. Several ribs that he had never seen were now quite obviously sticking out of his side. Several bright pink scars were scattered across his pale body like spilled paint. He reached his thin arm up and ran his fingers across the longest of his scars. It ran from the bottom center of his chest up to his left shoulder.
He winced a little. Not because the scar gave him pain, but because the memories gave him pain. The sadness began to surge in his core. He let the feelings rush to his eyes. It was all he could do to avoid from sobbing. He tightened his eyes and crows feet appeared in the corners. Tears flooded his eyes and distorted his vision, burning. His lip quivered and he broke eye contact with his reflection.
“You deserve this, Samuel.”
Hearing that drained what was left of his strength. His hands slid off the of the sink and he slumped to the ground, laying on his side. The cold, feminine voice was familiar to him. He had heard her every day for months now. She would tell him to quit, to give up, and that this was all his fault. He had forgotten who she was long ago, and now all that he remembered was her message.
“I know”, Sam whispered.
His voice was hoarse and pained. He closed his eyes and curled up, holding his legs close to his chest, completely alone.
My Story
It was overwhelming sometimes. He dropped to his knees and focused on his breathing to try to make it go away. The pit in his stomach was taking his breath away. Most days he didn't even get out of bed for more than an hour or two, and when he did he would just shuffle around his empty house. Today the only reason he even got up was to unplug the phone down stairs. He had gotten a call two days ago and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get another one.
Hesitantly, he pushed himself off his knees and stood on trembling legs. The floor in his room was covered with dirty clothes, empty packages of ramen and soda cans. Sun peaked through the closed shades and illuminated some of the trash on the ground. He shuffled through the mess and opened his door. A burst of cold, stale air pressed against his face. The hallway was dark and dusty with high ceilings.
He walked past what used to be his only sister's room as he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. Just a few steps past that door was the door to his parents room. Both doors were closed tight. He stopped at the bathroom and leaned on the sink with his head down. He was hesitant to look up, afraid that his own face would remind him of everything he lost.
Slowly he looked up and locked eyes with his reflection. Pale blue eyes stared into each other, relatively unchanged compared to the rest of his features. Dark purple bags rested heavily under his eyes. Where his cheeks used to be flush, they were pale, along with the rest of his skin. His light brown hair seemed darker than normal and was matted down most places with a few odd spikes of hair sticking up. A patchy beard had began to grow, almost unnaturally.
He stepped back, wearing only his boxers, he hardly recognized himself. He recalled the days that he was tan, muscular and handsome. He didn’t care though, this was a better reflection of who he really was. Several ribs that he had never seen were now quite obviously sticking out of his side. Several bright pink scars were scattered across his pale body like spilled paint. He reached his thin arm up and ran his fingers across the longest of his scars. It ran from the bottom center of his chest up to his left shoulder.
He winced a little. Not because the scar gave him pain, but because the memories gave him pain. The sadness began to surge in his core. He let the feelings rush to his eyes. It was all he could do to avoid from sobbing. He tightened his eyes and crows feet appeared in the corners. Tears flooded his eyes and distorted his vision, burning. His lip quivered and he broke eye contact with his reflection.
“You deserve this, Samuel.”
Hearing that drained what was left of his strength. His hands slid off the of the sink and he slumped to the ground, laying on his side. The cold, feminine voice was familiar to him. He had heard her every day for months now. She would tell him to quit, to give up, and that this was all his fault. He had forgotten who she was long ago, and now all that he remembered was her message.
“I know”, Sam whispered.
His voice was hoarse and pained. He closed his eyes and curled up, holding his legs close to his chest, completely alone.