Can this thread be here?

[Vile]

A thread where we post our stories and then they get picked and pulled at and critiqued? I think it'd be brilliant. Maybe it already happened. I hope not.



<i>His shoulders were hunched up and fighting a losing battle against the heavy atmosphere of the restroom. As a final act or surrender, his legs curled underneath him. His shaking had caused the last of many tears to triumphantly slide down his cheek, first claiming his lips and then the equally unforgiving tiled floor.

The tear was reunited with a pool of its own, and it spread, filling in the cracks of the tiles that have seen it all. Wedding brides have past through here, as have crack dealers and teenagers looking for a place to have sex. There was no emotion that longer phased the old walls- riddled with the graffiti to prove it.

He slid gracelessly off of the countertop, and walked towards the stall. She promised she would come back. After the first night that they’d held each other, he knew he loved her. This had always happened, confusing love and lust. But this was different. It was different because instead of her, it was he that was standing in front of a restroom stall deciding whether to throw up or walk away.

It had been two hours since she had promised to meet him. He remembered her turning off the light on her way out the door. Her dress trailed behind her, swaying with her hips. The colors made her eyes seem to sparkle with the sequins creating an infinite sea of green and gray, and even the darkness of the room couldn’t mute the glow of her bronzed skin. She’d promised and he’d believed her.

Maybe this was her way of saying “thanks, but no thanks”, but even imagining her saying the words to him made him pine for her. That voice could tell him a million different things, and no matter what he’d hear it-

-but maybe he hadn’t heard her enough, he decided. Maybe she’d been telling him all along. For months, begging desperately to be let go and trying to tell him she’d rather be anywhere but where she was; but so subtly she must’ve tried. She must’ve tried to hide it at first, to cover it in kissing and walks to the beach. Drown it in champagne and the dreaded “L” word- and if that plea was still clawing it’s way to the surface of her mind maybe she decided not to let her voice speak. Maybe she couldn’t face him. Maybe her fear of his reaction had lead him here in this run down whereverhewas.

“Maybe she still loves me” he half told, half commanded the stall. But the stall just stood, and seemed to offer him one of the many girls’ phone numbers carved into its door. He turned and faced the mirror, wiping the blood off of his forehead and neck. He couldn’t remember if it was his, or if it was hers.

“Fuck” he whispered, and left the bathroom, but not before writing the words “I knew the girl who killed herself” on the inside of the door with the mocking numbers on the front.

The doors swung closed, and the air forced one last ripple out of the pool of water and tears. The lights flickered, and then regained their strength. Sunlight was starting to filter through the windows.</i>

Have at it, please. It's due for monday.

[MST3Kakalina]

it's late. what's today? not monday. good.


cut down on the personification in general, the first paragraph especially. too much makes it hokey.


Wedding brides <b>passed</b>


<i>The colors made her eyes seem to sparkle with the sequins creating an infinite sea of green and gray, and even the darkness of the room couldn’t mute the glow of her bronzed skin. </i>

^this sentence is awkward. hmm.

Her eyes reflected the sparkle of the sequins, creating an endless sea of green and gray. Even the darkness of the room couldn't mute the glow of her bronzed skin.

i don't think "must've" is technically allowed, but that's more of a stylistic thing.


if he knows his girlfriend killed herself, why is he waiting for her? unless it's a weird mourning sort of thing. even so, i get the impression that the girl JUST offed herself, and i would find it more likely for him to be in his room or some other accessible place than in a public bathroom.

the last sentence is just....fluff.


i don't mean to sound bitchy. i'm just pointing out things as i see them. i'll be more gentle in the morning.

[Vile]

k. :3

I like personification, it makes things seem pretty to me. I'm weird.

um. yes.

There actually IS some back story to this. He was in the bar when his mother called, giving him the news. He just sort of hobbled off into the bathroom.

It is fluff, but the ending seemed way too abrupt.

Edit: I don't know about the bood part. That's where Zach comes in and writes his half explaining it. He probably slices himself up or something.

[robot]

you've got some good imagery going there. have you ever read jeffrey eugenides?

i'd call the story mediocre at best, though. the subject matter is.. meh.

[Takker]

I thought you did a good job, but angst (to me) seems like an easy subject matter to write about. I would have gone for something a bit more challenging, but whatever. you still did good. like Koba said, a bit heavy with the personifications and such.

[Modest Proposal]

Sorry for the delayed posting. Here is the story.

He left the bar, but not before creating a river from the bathroom to his footsteps. The walk home was very dark and wet. He was walking in restricted paces, as if someone had strapped slabs of concrete to his feet. He lit up a cigarette and threw away the empty package, the rain colliding with his shoulders. Cars passing him by, had no idea what had just happened to this man. He looked down towards the ground, the aged cement was staring him in the face, begging him to trip and scrape his remaining feeling away. The path was long to his house, and the buildings surrounding him looked like a hand closing. When he finally arrived at his cluttered apartment, he collapsed on the bed, tears still streaming down his face. He was wondering why this had happened. He treated her right, didn’t he? The man stopped crying for a few seconds, as a state of disbelief slapped him across the cheek. Maybe this was a dream? A nightmare? Maybe it was false news! Maybe shes still alive! I mean, the phone connection was bad and all. She’s probably waiting for me to call her right this minute!

He leaned over and picked up the phone, and hit “one”. The speed dial picked up her number, and dialed her cell phone. No answer. The state passed through, and in settled more despair. He slammed his face into his pillow and wept. Then the thought of suicide entered his mind. He looked down at his right hand, dry blood caked under his fingernail. The left wrist was still bleeding, not as much though. His path in life led him to her, and she ended her’s on her own terms. As a final tribute, he would do the same. He grabbed a picture of her and threw it against the wall. He picked up a shard of glass and held it in his hand. He looked directly at his wrist as he slowly slid the shard of glass from one end to the other. There was no turning back. The decision was made.

But instead of suffering, the pain was replaced with a beam of light. He looked into the light, and out of the light came a small sheet. Something was bundled in the sheet. The man leaned down to open it, and inside the sheet was a box. Confused, he opened the box, and a balloon flew out. The man leapt into the air, and grabbed the balloon. The balloon popped, and dropped to the floor was a note. The note read “Take two paces left, and four backwards.” So he did just that. After those steps were made, he noticed a little door, not fit for his height. He slowly opened the door, but halfway through, the door was slammed open by the hamburglar. The hamburglar and the man both screamed at each other and the hamburglar began to run around the man’s apartment. When he finally caught the hamburglar, he said “Ah, ye found meh! I am a hamburlgar sent here by your local tourism development officer to give you this present. He asked me for you to open it.” He took the box, and opened it. Inside the box laid a shard. The shard wore glasses to protect itself from the sun. The man reached in and grabbed the shard. The man and the shard then enjoyed the night with a passionate game of glow-in-the-dark UNO!!!!!

[Vile]

ahahaha, <i>shard</i>

and no one understandddss.

[Shiv]

When I was little I once had a dream that the hamburgler stole my bobbin.... it made me cry o_O

[beavo]

i dunno, i guess i always thought i was someone who took control of things. i liked to believe that no matter what the situation, i would be able to get through it because i was headstrong, i knew how to deal with anything. ever since i was young, i thought this.

everyone knew i wasn't any of those things. they just didn't say anything because no one wanted to hurt me. i was fine with that, though. well, why wouldn't i be? i thought i was the greatest person ever, nothing could get me down. and if no one said otherwise, why should i think otherwise? why would no one say anything to me, for my entire life? because they were scared of me. because they were afraid i might do what i've just done.

i was a pretty fucked up child. i killed things. i ate them. i went to a man to talk about it. he made me draw pictures and point out where the bad feelings were coming from. it helped. well... for the hour or so while i was talking to him, then when i left i just went back to the way i was. as i got older, i learned to pretend i was actually getting better.

i never got better. people pretended i was because i was pretending i was. therefore, i painted a picture of someone who was totally on top of their lives, and of everyone elses. it fooled no one except myself. i forgot what i had been like when i was a child. i blocked it out. then i remebered, not too long ago.

my mother called me. that was what did it. i thought she was dead. she called to let me know she was still alive. that brought it all back. i went crazy.

i killed her.

i killed my best friend.

i killed my neighbour.

then i ate them.

then i killed myself....i think. i tried to, anyway.

or am i telling you the truth? i've lied my entire life, why wouldn't i be lying now? am i a man or a woman? what age am i? where do i come from? i wouldn't tell you. why should i? how dare you for even thinking i would tell you anything about my life. all you want to hear about is an extraordinary life that has changed the world. that might be mine, but it might not be. i can't believe everyone in this world. how dare they want to know. fuck them all.

[beavo]

i actually have no idea what that story's about. i literally just came up with it as i wrote it.... huh.