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He sat there in his small cold bedroom, his face illuminated blue from the glow of his computer monitor. He glanced again at his computer clock that clearly read ‘00:26’, the elections were over and he hadn’t won, nor had he come a graceful second – he didn’t get a single vote. He rested his head in his soft shaking palms and slowly began to break down in tears.
These forums were his life, the only place he could feel secure and wanted, and they had rejected him. He glances at the tormenting scoreboard of votes for the notable election, topped by Microchips with a sickening 34 votes. Again he clasped his hands around his eyes, trying to prevent the truth from sinking in. He had lost.
He thought that becoming a notable would get him friends and make him feel more like a person again. He had no friends at school and his parents sparsely spoke to him except for a brief interlude of shouting and swearing. He knew he was no longer wanted, not by his family, piers or so called friends on the forums. He remembered back to the vow he made, that if he didn’t become a notable he would end it all. He was in no frame of mind to back down from himself now.
Tears tarnished his reddened cheeks, his fists rhythmically clenches and unclenched and his teeth ground together as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, to the medicine cabinet. It was late and his family were fast asleep and in no state to wake up when they were most needed. He pulled out the small plastic bottle of paracetamol, his hands gripped it tightly until his knuckles where as white as the plastic itself.
He began his final march upstairs and sat again in front of the computer that once meant so much but now meant next to nothing. He shakily clicked the ‘create new topic’ link and informed the forum how he once felt accepted but now was a nothing, how he once felt a sense of unity with the other posters but now felt like an outcast, how he planned to end it all in one fell swoop.
His shaky hands struggled to open the childproof container but finally he achieved it. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a burning swig of vodka from the local newsagents. Tears once again marked rolled down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Gentle sobs shook his body as he read the first reply to his topic, “Good Riddance.” He bit his lip hard and turned off his faithful computer for the last time. He sat alone, in the dark, knowing his loneliness wouldn’t last much longer.
These forums were his life, the only place he could feel secure and wanted, and they had rejected him. He glances at the tormenting scoreboard of votes for the notable election, topped by Microchips with a sickening 34 votes. Again he clasped his hands around his eyes, trying to prevent the truth from sinking in. He had lost.
He thought that becoming a notable would get him friends and make him feel more like a person again. He had no friends at school and his parents sparsely spoke to him except for a brief interlude of shouting and swearing. He knew he was no longer wanted, not by his family, piers or so called friends on the forums. He remembered back to the vow he made, that if he didn’t become a notable he would end it all. He was in no frame of mind to back down from himself now.
Tears tarnished his reddened cheeks, his fists rhythmically clenches and unclenched and his teeth ground together as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, to the medicine cabinet. It was late and his family were fast asleep and in no state to wake up when they were most needed. He pulled out the small plastic bottle of paracetamol, his hands gripped it tightly until his knuckles where as white as the plastic itself.
He began his final march upstairs and sat again in front of the computer that once meant so much but now meant next to nothing. He shakily clicked the ‘create new topic’ link and informed the forum how he once felt accepted but now was a nothing, how he once felt a sense of unity with the other posters but now felt like an outcast, how he planned to end it all in one fell swoop.
His shaky hands struggled to open the childproof container but finally he achieved it. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a burning swig of vodka from the local newsagents. Tears once again marked rolled down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Gentle sobs shook his body as he read the first reply to his topic, “Good Riddance.” He bit his lip hard and turned off his faithful computer for the last time. He sat alone, in the dark, knowing his loneliness wouldn’t last much longer.
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Shouldn't it be 'fall from grace'?
Surreal - this house has loads of stairs and they all go up.
...and that's why we should all vote Crazycol
:^D
Nicely done, by the way
:^D
Nicely done, by the way
Rickoss wrote:
> Good Riddance.
Made me laugh!
> Good Riddance.
Made me laugh!
Very good story. That's all I can say.
: D
: D
Good Riddance.
...ha ha ha ha ha!!!!
O sorry - you want compasion i take it?? very good piece of writing dude, i felt sympathy once more!!! but Kyz22...Maybe you should look at the forums as a simple pastime - safer ;)
O sorry - you want compasion i take it?? very good piece of writing dude, i felt sympathy once more!!! but Kyz22...Maybe you should look at the forums as a simple pastime - safer ;)
nice, hope it was fiction and it wasnt me that said good ridance, very emotional and descriptive : )
He sat there in his small cold bedroom, his face illuminated blue from the glow of his computer monitor. He glanced again at his computer clock that clearly read ‘00:26’, the elections were over and he hadn’t won, nor had he come a graceful second – he didn’t get a single vote. He rested his head in his soft shaking palms and slowly began to break down in tears.
These forums were his life, the only place he could feel secure and wanted, and they had rejected him. He glances at the tormenting scoreboard of votes for the notable election, topped by Microchips with a sickening 34 votes. Again he clasped his hands around his eyes, trying to prevent the truth from sinking in. He had lost.
He thought that becoming a notable would get him friends and make him feel more like a person again. He had no friends at school and his parents sparsely spoke to him except for a brief interlude of shouting and swearing. He knew he was no longer wanted, not by his family, piers or so called friends on the forums. He remembered back to the vow he made, that if he didn’t become a notable he would end it all. He was in no frame of mind to back down from himself now.
Tears tarnished his reddened cheeks, his fists rhythmically clenches and unclenched and his teeth ground together as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, to the medicine cabinet. It was late and his family were fast asleep and in no state to wake up when they were most needed. He pulled out the small plastic bottle of paracetamol, his hands gripped it tightly until his knuckles where as white as the plastic itself.
He began his final march upstairs and sat again in front of the computer that once meant so much but now meant next to nothing. He shakily clicked the ‘create new topic’ link and informed the forum how he once felt accepted but now was a nothing, how he once felt a sense of unity with the other posters but now felt like an outcast, how he planned to end it all in one fell swoop.
His shaky hands struggled to open the childproof container but finally he achieved it. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a burning swig of vodka from the local newsagents. Tears once again marked rolled down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Gentle sobs shook his body as he read the first reply to his topic, “Good Riddance.” He bit his lip hard and turned off his faithful computer for the last time. He sat alone, in the dark, knowing his loneliness wouldn’t last much longer.
These forums were his life, the only place he could feel secure and wanted, and they had rejected him. He glances at the tormenting scoreboard of votes for the notable election, topped by Microchips with a sickening 34 votes. Again he clasped his hands around his eyes, trying to prevent the truth from sinking in. He had lost.
He thought that becoming a notable would get him friends and make him feel more like a person again. He had no friends at school and his parents sparsely spoke to him except for a brief interlude of shouting and swearing. He knew he was no longer wanted, not by his family, piers or so called friends on the forums. He remembered back to the vow he made, that if he didn’t become a notable he would end it all. He was in no frame of mind to back down from himself now.
Tears tarnished his reddened cheeks, his fists rhythmically clenches and unclenched and his teeth ground together as he made his way upstairs to the bathroom, to the medicine cabinet. It was late and his family were fast asleep and in no state to wake up when they were most needed. He pulled out the small plastic bottle of paracetamol, his hands gripped it tightly until his knuckles where as white as the plastic itself.
He began his final march upstairs and sat again in front of the computer that once meant so much but now meant next to nothing. He shakily clicked the ‘create new topic’ link and informed the forum how he once felt accepted but now was a nothing, how he once felt a sense of unity with the other posters but now felt like an outcast, how he planned to end it all in one fell swoop.
His shaky hands struggled to open the childproof container but finally he achieved it. He stuffed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a burning swig of vodka from the local newsagents. Tears once again marked rolled down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Gentle sobs shook his body as he read the first reply to his topic, “Good Riddance.” He bit his lip hard and turned off his faithful computer for the last time. He sat alone, in the dark, knowing his loneliness wouldn’t last much longer.
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