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Condensation trickled down the icy glass, the window that stood in between the rampant winter and comfy surroundings of the classroom. The branches of the leafless trees swung as the brutal force of the wind took control. They never gave up; they stood soaring, as the wind hammered them with its amazing strength. The silence broke in an instant with the sound of a ringing bell, signalling me to stroll on in this dreaded world. I turned and glanced at the bold trees once more, which made me think that regardless of their endless battle for life, at least their purpose was there, and for all to be seen.
I walked down the hallway only somewhat alert of what was going on around me. I was utterly oblivious to everyone else, hustling and busting their way towards their destinations. As my journey began, I started to go through the possibilities of what awaited me. At the back of my mind was the evident fact that I hadn’t a place to go that wasn’t overflowing with remorse, pain and misery. I neared the outskirts of the town I once adored; looking back I recalled fond memories triggered by images stored in my conscience. I still knew it wasn’t a mistake leaving however, I still knew I’d outstayed my welcome.
As I trudged onwards I closed in on an opening where a field was, and a stream flowed in around parts of the gorgeous scenery. The surroundings also gave way to an abandoned, decaying mill, which looked almost prehistoric when in amongst the nurtured landscape. I didn’t want to enter the mill I knew that. The heavens opened though, and emptied a gushing river onto my exhausted and fatigued body. The downpour flow over me, drenching my clothes and soaking me from head to toe with its murky liquid. I didn’t care anymore; I just headed straight into the old mill.
Maybe it was shock or maybe I was just weaker than I led myself to believe, but the mill was simply petrifying. Every step I took on one of its worn, elderly stairs made the structure shriek. I climbed to the second floor and was so suddenly horrified I just curled up in a ball. It had just dawned upon me the significance of what had happened in this truly dire day. I felt paralysed; I just laid there a shivering wreck on the floor, mindless and devastated. Insecurity shrouded me like a blanket. I wanted to cry, but the tears evaded my pale cheeks, held back by the numbness, the harsh, shrieking numbness that flowed though my veins chilling my blood.
A manikin's existence seemed comparable to mine. The thoughts and feelings that had impregnated themselves into my skull haunted me could never be erased. I could not think about, let alone analyse, anything beyond my own tormented feelings of sheer pain, anguish, and above all anger. At times the anger was quashed by guilt, yet this sense of guilt burned deep inside fuelling the fire of the anger once more. Anger that the tender, loving hands I once knew had gone, and would never return to my skin ever again. I couldn’t bare to even contemplate what my future held for me, I didn’t care anymore.
Rising to my feet, and breaking out of the sadistic paralysed state I assumed that I was in, I conjured up thoughts of how people ended their lives and why. The reason I held felt one of colossal importance, and reason enough to want to end me. My life was totally transformed. I was propelled out of a secure, warm, safe and caring environment, into a world that seemed like a cold, bleak, lonesome existence. This place was miles from what I had become accustomed to.
As a teenager you invent mysterious coping strategies to evade the inevitable truth. My master was denial, and my master led me to deciding to drown myself in the river just outside the mill. I sped back out into the surroundings, almost collapsing down the stairs on my way. I drew my last breath and then plunged my head beneath the nearby water. I had gone the same way as my mother now, I was dead just like her.
I walked down the hallway only somewhat alert of what was going on around me. I was utterly oblivious to everyone else, hustling and busting their way towards their destinations. As my journey began, I started to go through the possibilities of what awaited me. At the back of my mind was the evident fact that I hadn’t a place to go that wasn’t overflowing with remorse, pain and misery. I neared the outskirts of the town I once adored; looking back I recalled fond memories triggered by images stored in my conscience. I still knew it wasn’t a mistake leaving however, I still knew I’d outstayed my welcome.
As I trudged onwards I closed in on an opening where a field was, and a stream flowed in around parts of the gorgeous scenery. The surroundings also gave way to an abandoned, decaying mill, which looked almost prehistoric when in amongst the nurtured landscape. I didn’t want to enter the mill I knew that. The heavens opened though, and emptied a gushing river onto my exhausted and fatigued body. The downpour flow over me, drenching my clothes and soaking me from head to toe with its murky liquid. I didn’t care anymore; I just headed straight into the old mill.
Maybe it was shock or maybe I was just weaker than I led myself to believe, but the mill was simply petrifying. Every step I took on one of its worn, elderly stairs made the structure shriek. I climbed to the second floor and was so suddenly horrified I just curled up in a ball. It had just dawned upon me the significance of what had happened in this truly dire day. I felt paralysed; I just laid there a shivering wreck on the floor, mindless and devastated. Insecurity shrouded me like a blanket. I wanted to cry, but the tears evaded my pale cheeks, held back by the numbness, the harsh, shrieking numbness that flowed though my veins chilling my blood.
A manikin's existence seemed comparable to mine. The thoughts and feelings that had impregnated themselves into my skull haunted me could never be erased. I could not think about, let alone analyse, anything beyond my own tormented feelings of sheer pain, anguish, and above all anger. At times the anger was quashed by guilt, yet this sense of guilt burned deep inside fuelling the fire of the anger once more. Anger that the tender, loving hands I once knew had gone, and would never return to my skin ever again. I couldn’t bare to even contemplate what my future held for me, I didn’t care anymore.
Rising to my feet, and breaking out of the sadistic paralysed state I assumed that I was in, I conjured up thoughts of how people ended their lives and why. The reason I held felt one of colossal importance, and reason enough to want to end me. My life was totally transformed. I was propelled out of a secure, warm, safe and caring environment, into a world that seemed like a cold, bleak, lonesome existence. This place was miles from what I had become accustomed to.
As a teenager you invent mysterious coping strategies to evade the inevitable truth. My master was denial, and my master led me to deciding to drown myself in the river just outside the mill. I sped back out into the surroundings, almost collapsing down the stairs on my way. I drew my last breath and then plunged my head beneath the nearby water. I had gone the same way as my mother now, I was dead just like her.
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The descriptiveness of the piece was very nice and obviously well written but you need to focus more on motive. It was a little bit, "I went to the mill, it was scary", "I cried a bit and threw myself in the river", "So did my mother". Also writing a piece where the protagonist dies in the past tense doesn't tend to work because, well, they're dead. It would work much better in the first person I think. For a first effort at a short story it wasn't bad at all but you need to work on a few things mate.
I've seen it - which is to say, I saw it.
Not read yet, but recorded alongside the others.
You may now rest easy, knowing that it's in the pot...
Not read yet, but recorded alongside the others.
You may now rest easy, knowing that it's in the pot...
I'll read it tomorrow, considering it's quarter past 2 in the morn.
I'm sure Meka'll get the jist though, considering "Mill".
I'm sure Meka'll get the jist though, considering "Mill".
Poo, just realised i didn't title it properly, oh well i'm sure that Meka will realise it somehow, im not expecting to win anyway as it is my first attempt at a short story.
Condensation trickled down the icy glass, the window that stood in between the rampant winter and comfy surroundings of the classroom. The branches of the leafless trees swung as the brutal force of the wind took control. They never gave up; they stood soaring, as the wind hammered them with its amazing strength. The silence broke in an instant with the sound of a ringing bell, signalling me to stroll on in this dreaded world. I turned and glanced at the bold trees once more, which made me think that regardless of their endless battle for life, at least their purpose was there, and for all to be seen.
I walked down the hallway only somewhat alert of what was going on around me. I was utterly oblivious to everyone else, hustling and busting their way towards their destinations. As my journey began, I started to go through the possibilities of what awaited me. At the back of my mind was the evident fact that I hadn’t a place to go that wasn’t overflowing with remorse, pain and misery. I neared the outskirts of the town I once adored; looking back I recalled fond memories triggered by images stored in my conscience. I still knew it wasn’t a mistake leaving however, I still knew I’d outstayed my welcome.
As I trudged onwards I closed in on an opening where a field was, and a stream flowed in around parts of the gorgeous scenery. The surroundings also gave way to an abandoned, decaying mill, which looked almost prehistoric when in amongst the nurtured landscape. I didn’t want to enter the mill I knew that. The heavens opened though, and emptied a gushing river onto my exhausted and fatigued body. The downpour flow over me, drenching my clothes and soaking me from head to toe with its murky liquid. I didn’t care anymore; I just headed straight into the old mill.
Maybe it was shock or maybe I was just weaker than I led myself to believe, but the mill was simply petrifying. Every step I took on one of its worn, elderly stairs made the structure shriek. I climbed to the second floor and was so suddenly horrified I just curled up in a ball. It had just dawned upon me the significance of what had happened in this truly dire day. I felt paralysed; I just laid there a shivering wreck on the floor, mindless and devastated. Insecurity shrouded me like a blanket. I wanted to cry, but the tears evaded my pale cheeks, held back by the numbness, the harsh, shrieking numbness that flowed though my veins chilling my blood.
A manikin's existence seemed comparable to mine. The thoughts and feelings that had impregnated themselves into my skull haunted me could never be erased. I could not think about, let alone analyse, anything beyond my own tormented feelings of sheer pain, anguish, and above all anger. At times the anger was quashed by guilt, yet this sense of guilt burned deep inside fuelling the fire of the anger once more. Anger that the tender, loving hands I once knew had gone, and would never return to my skin ever again. I couldn’t bare to even contemplate what my future held for me, I didn’t care anymore.
Rising to my feet, and breaking out of the sadistic paralysed state I assumed that I was in, I conjured up thoughts of how people ended their lives and why. The reason I held felt one of colossal importance, and reason enough to want to end me. My life was totally transformed. I was propelled out of a secure, warm, safe and caring environment, into a world that seemed like a cold, bleak, lonesome existence. This place was miles from what I had become accustomed to.
As a teenager you invent mysterious coping strategies to evade the inevitable truth. My master was denial, and my master led me to deciding to drown myself in the river just outside the mill. I sped back out into the surroundings, almost collapsing down the stairs on my way. I drew my last breath and then plunged my head beneath the nearby water. I had gone the same way as my mother now, I was dead just like her.
I walked down the hallway only somewhat alert of what was going on around me. I was utterly oblivious to everyone else, hustling and busting their way towards their destinations. As my journey began, I started to go through the possibilities of what awaited me. At the back of my mind was the evident fact that I hadn’t a place to go that wasn’t overflowing with remorse, pain and misery. I neared the outskirts of the town I once adored; looking back I recalled fond memories triggered by images stored in my conscience. I still knew it wasn’t a mistake leaving however, I still knew I’d outstayed my welcome.
As I trudged onwards I closed in on an opening where a field was, and a stream flowed in around parts of the gorgeous scenery. The surroundings also gave way to an abandoned, decaying mill, which looked almost prehistoric when in amongst the nurtured landscape. I didn’t want to enter the mill I knew that. The heavens opened though, and emptied a gushing river onto my exhausted and fatigued body. The downpour flow over me, drenching my clothes and soaking me from head to toe with its murky liquid. I didn’t care anymore; I just headed straight into the old mill.
Maybe it was shock or maybe I was just weaker than I led myself to believe, but the mill was simply petrifying. Every step I took on one of its worn, elderly stairs made the structure shriek. I climbed to the second floor and was so suddenly horrified I just curled up in a ball. It had just dawned upon me the significance of what had happened in this truly dire day. I felt paralysed; I just laid there a shivering wreck on the floor, mindless and devastated. Insecurity shrouded me like a blanket. I wanted to cry, but the tears evaded my pale cheeks, held back by the numbness, the harsh, shrieking numbness that flowed though my veins chilling my blood.
A manikin's existence seemed comparable to mine. The thoughts and feelings that had impregnated themselves into my skull haunted me could never be erased. I could not think about, let alone analyse, anything beyond my own tormented feelings of sheer pain, anguish, and above all anger. At times the anger was quashed by guilt, yet this sense of guilt burned deep inside fuelling the fire of the anger once more. Anger that the tender, loving hands I once knew had gone, and would never return to my skin ever again. I couldn’t bare to even contemplate what my future held for me, I didn’t care anymore.
Rising to my feet, and breaking out of the sadistic paralysed state I assumed that I was in, I conjured up thoughts of how people ended their lives and why. The reason I held felt one of colossal importance, and reason enough to want to end me. My life was totally transformed. I was propelled out of a secure, warm, safe and caring environment, into a world that seemed like a cold, bleak, lonesome existence. This place was miles from what I had become accustomed to.
As a teenager you invent mysterious coping strategies to evade the inevitable truth. My master was denial, and my master led me to deciding to drown myself in the river just outside the mill. I sped back out into the surroundings, almost collapsing down the stairs on my way. I drew my last breath and then plunged my head beneath the nearby water. I had gone the same way as my mother now, I was dead just like her.
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