(Short story I wrote about life, okay its quite long but whatever ) Her gasping breath fills the room. Slowly, she slips back into reality, her dream state fades but the pain is all too real. Another day, peeking out of the blinds that separate her from the rest of the world, everybody going about their day. The sun is shining but her skies are grey, that has never changed. The blinds stay shut, 4 months and 12 days now, she doesn't want to see them. Stumble to the kitchen, kettle on, cigarette lit, instant coffee in the mug, the hot steam rises and hits her cheeks, yep - still human. She stays in her night clothes, there is no reason to get dressed. Sip of hot coffee, it burns her throat, definitely still human. She flicks through channels on the television. 'Bombings in Syria' 'Protests in Greece' 'School girl murdered' 'Prime ministers declares to stamp out benefit fraud'. Same old, same old. First coffee finished, cigarette number three, kettles on again. She sits in darkness, silence, wondering about her world, her life, all the people. She remembers what her family tell her, to have fun and forget it all, but how can she do that when she IS it all? The pain of a thousand lifetimes, the daily grind of 'is this it?'. Her head, constantly flooded with the sorrow of the world, there is no escape no matter how hard she tries. Maybe, she is intrigued, that dying is the only way out? The world could do with one less failure, one less no body. She holds the wire around her neck, shaking, she pulls tight. Silent tears roll down her face as her blood is replaced with adrenaline, throbbing around her neck, trying to pass her grip. She never does it, she knows better than that. Drop the wire and breathe. Colour returns to her skin but all she can feel is their hate. It is overwhelming. She drops to her knees, struggling to breath over the intense emotion. Head on the floor she wails, the agony in her cries are surreal, she has run out of tears for the world. This is the pain she feels everyday, the pain of the old man locked in his home. The pain of the mother losing her child to war, the pain of the child losing his life to famine. The pain of the business man filling his void with materials but never feeling satisfied. Every bodies pain, every single day. Her heart just can not break anymore. Five days worth of dishes and mould in the sink, no food in the fridge, three loads of washing and crumbs on the floor - but none of it really matters. Worried to talk incase it sounds like self pity so she locks it away with herself in her house. She wants them - needs them - to understand that nothing is real and help them to relieve this pain they all feel everyday. Why can't they see that they are not small? They are amazing and complex, simple and sweet, they are the entire universe, anything they want to be. One being, one conciousness, divided throughout billions of eyes. And the suffering, oh the suffering, that of one person is that of them all. So estranged from her species, ripping her hair out at the thought of the greed. Another coffee, make a plan, save the world. Everyday is the same and no plans ever work. The skies turning dark and the rain starts to fall. She peeks through the blinds, one last time. Watching the rain drop upon her window she wonders where it had been, and where it was going next? Cigarette number twenty-four. Crack open the beer to drown the sorrows that aren't even hers. She turns on the television, just incase.....no. 'Iran invasions' 'Five year old missing' 'Man stabbed to death for £2.50' 'Government plans to stamp out knife crime' No change. Time for bed. She climbs in, shivering from the cold, still in her pyjamas that she put on three nights before. Blanket over her head, safety, no distractions. She lays awake for hours, silently thinking. Her body full of energy until her mind gives in and says - sleep. Secretly hoping she will never wake up, she knows deep down that this is her life and, as history has proved, it shall be repeated. Day in, day out.
She wonders everyday whether life will challenge her, really and not just materially. Looking around at the things she has collected over the years, she accepts that she owns nothing, she could burn it all right now and it wouldn't affect her in the slightest - but she won't. It seems something holds her back, every time. She is a free spirit locked in a never ending fairytale of plastic and possession, she has nothing to lose but does she have anything to gain? That is one of her many daily questions, boiling up inside and she needs answers. No, instead of answering her questions she hides in the shadows, peeks out through the blinds that shield what could soon become her tomb from the pitiful hell outside. The depths of despair and not a soul can hear her scream because not a soul exists beyond the four walls that close in, closer everyday. Reaching towards a light that disappears when she gets near, yearning for a future that seems impossible to achieve but she won't ever admit that, the future that is fading alongside humanity is the only reason she landed upon this floating rock. Every now and then a wall of hope is built, brick by brick, dividing the good from the evil but she watches everytime as it grows in its glory until greed and ego quickly fill every crack resulting in a crumbled pile of rubble that gets no second look. There is no point in first impressions without a second glance. The time may be near, but that seems unlikely. As the rock she calls home rotates in its cycle around the burning fire that is the sun, nothing seems to change. She can see the reality that dwells within, everything changes but nobody notices, no second glance. She continues to wonder when they will see, or if that moment will ever arise. There could be a point of no return very soon, will it be a happy point, or will it continue to spiral downhill into a point that is so darkly despising that no soul will want to return. She has no choice but to leave the descision to them, for her voice will never be heard in a crowd of drowning selfish whines. No need to wonder anymore, she realises that life gave her the greatest challenge of all, long before birth.
Dark. Reads like a third person diary. I can relate to the place she is in, looking through the blinds into a wrecked world. Great emotion. Would love to read more and boy does she smoke alot of cigs!
Wow some of what you wrote reminded me of someone I know. Well done. I like the way you paint your words.
Great read definitely. She does smoke a lot of cigs, but I end up doing the same when I feel like that
I like it. a good, intense & powerful picture of the character and the character's life. also very relatable. keep it up
