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Cycle
Little random story I've been thinking about for awhile. Might write a better and longer version at some point, but now... here ya go.
Critique please, I know this can't be that good, seeing as I wrote it in fifteen or so minutes in the middle of the night. Also, I really need a better name ;;>.> She swallows the last of the handful of pills, falls back onto the bed, and waits. -- She wakes up, which was definitely not supposed to happen. At first, she is scared. Then she is angry. Then she looks in the mirror and is scared again. She is forty eight years old, but the girl in the mirror is most definitely not. -- She wakes up for the second time a little more aware, glancing down at the places on her wrists where the angry gashes should be, before peering about the room. This place has not been home for twenty years. She should not be here. As a matter of fact, she should not be anywhere. -- The third time she is nearly the right age, but still, unfortunately, alive. -- The eighth time she leaves her colourful room. She hasn’t checked, but judging from her surroundings, she is in her early teens. She walks, dreamlike, into the kitchen. Her dead father stands there, making tea. He only barely catches her when she collapses, hyperventilating. They talk. Well, he talks and she stares, managing occasional nods. He is worried. So is she, but for completely different reasons. Why can’t she die? She reassures him and retreats back to her room. This time, there is some regret. ’bye Dad. -- The fourteenth time she is making proper conversation with her mother, unnerving her slightly with her amazing - for an eight year old – vocabulary. She thinks about changing things. She does. Her mother does not die on the night she was fated to. She stays for four more months, before wondering what life would be like if she hadn’t refused to accompany her sister and father on their trip to England, hadn’t missed out on the journey that made them the closest of friends. She thinks of being six as she slips away. -- The fifteenth time, she has a plan. Her father asks if she wants to come, and she says yes. It’s fun, but not the epic adventure she was half expecting. She got sick while she was there. She remembers her first boyfriend. She took a trip then too, and came back to an ex boyfriend. -- The sixteenth time, she is acne spotted and fifteen. She turns down an offer to travel, stays with Mike, and breaks up with him two months later. -- The twentieth time, when she is twenty-one, she chooses a different university, simply out of curiosity. What if she had been a chemist, not a math teacher? She found out. It was nice, for a while, but things happened and she wondered again. -- The seventy-sixth time, she wears a different dress to prom, talks to different people. Meets someone new. She doesn’t kill herself - or start again, as she thinks of it – for thirty-three years. She has a decent life, she thinks. Nothing special. Nothing any better then what she had before, but decent. For the first time, she is happy as she fits her head through the noose. She is happy and curious and content because she can do anything, she can be anyone, and it is wonderful! -- There is no seventy-seventh time. |
So what exactly is this? About a woman who is trying to commit suicide but keeps failing and has these visions of correcting all of her wrongs and changing things as she would have liked them to be but then at the last time she succeeds in committing suicide?
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Um well It's supposed to be she actually goes back in time every time she dies, until she becomes happy. But instead of making life better, she experiments with doing different things, having a different job, traveling to places shes never been, etc, just to see what it is like, and using suicide, eventually, not to actually die, but to try something else.
But its supposed to be a bit sad because in end the she was truly happy, but only because she didn't think she was going to die. And because of this, she did. This is what happens when I write when I'm dead tired....it makes no sense. Oh well. |
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She woke up for the second time, instead of just She just woke up for second time. Sounds like some body using Engrish to make a joke. |
Right, thanks. Will try to write things when I'm aware enough to write properly next time...
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