Category: Writers Block
I'm still not entirely sure about posting this here, but I was told I should, and I think I like it enough. Plus, it's about one-thirty in the morning, and I do random things at this time. And just so it isn't misinterpretted, I am by no means condoning any of what it talks about, and it's meant to seem a bit cliche. And now I'll shut up and let you read it.
---
Alice is only thirteen. Her mother died young, and her father has grown old. She doesn't have money for nice clothes or a real haircut. She eats her lunches in the library and puts all her effort into her schoolwork. Alice rarely looks up from the ground. She has learned, even at this early age, that alcohol is easily accessible if you know where to look and how to act, and her world seems a little brighter near the bottom of a bottle. Her father pretends he doesn't know why she sleeps so much, why her eyes are bloodshot and bruised, why she only comes alive at night. He's lost in his self-constructed maze of grief.
Nick is an artist. His hands work magic with clay, with paintbrushes, with guitars, with pianos. He can make beauty out of anything. He has a different girl for every night of every week. The girls say it's his mystery that attracts them, when they whisper and giggle to one another in the halls as he passes. But Nick lives behind a wall, a wall he hopes is indestructible. None of his girls or his friends know the secret Nick has carried for a year or more. None of them know that the beauty he creates is an attempt at compensation for the destruction he has caused. Nick plucks his pain on the strings of his guitar and disguises the horror he feels with his art.
Jennifer is tiny and beautiful. She has everything every girl wants: car, clothes, money, friends. She makes good grades and does what she's told. In short, she's perfect. But Jennifer learned early in life that there's only one thing she's really good at, only one thing for which she will ever really be wanted. She has had a string of boyfriends, all the same, and her bruises never completely fade. She never lets them. Every day between classes, and every night before bed, she carves her anger, bitterness and hopelessness into her skin, and when she looks in the mirror she sees the disgusting mess her boyfriends tell her she is. The pills and the vomiting never seem to be quite enough. She will only truly be beautiful when she has disappeared.
Andy is everyone's favorite. You will rarely see him when he isn't surrounded by people, and he laughs often. His parents brag about him to their friends and coworkers, and his teachers say he'll do great things some day. He's not the best dressed or the captain of the football team, but he's rarely without a potential date. No one but his cat knows how unhappy Andy really is. His life has no real direction, none of the paths his parents and teachers want him to take feel right to him, and none of them know the real reason he turns down every date he's offered. He doesn't go out on the weekends and drink with his friends just to have a good time, he does it to stay something close to sane. One night Andy will find his father's gun, hidden away in the top of a closet, and it's all the motivation he needs. He will turn out the lights in an attempt to spare his family some of the initial horror of what they will see in the morning, and as his finger trembles against the trigger, he will visualize his mother's face.
This is our generation. We are the future.
Very well done.
Very depressing.
All I can say is that this does not just define your generation, it defines people of all generations.
It is, perhaps, easier to write about the hopeless, lonely people with low self confidence. But, there are people out there quietly offering a shoulder, a helping hand, making a small, but significant difference. These folks are there too. How do I know? I've seen them here on the zone.
Bob
Chelsea, it's awesome, and while Bob is right, it reminds us that these people are there though we often don't know it, simply because they hide how they feel. Thank yu for sharing it with everyone.
Totally agree iwth bob!
I loved it, darling. You actually started to cure my writers block, but I got distracted so whatever idea I had totally went out of the window.
Would you mind maybe if I expanded upon this, a little? I'd take no credit or anything, but would just sort of play with it?
Take care, and thanks for writing.
Thanks, guys. The comments are appreciated. And Cort, do what you like with it, as long as I can read it when you're done.
I dunno. It's a bit bleak and leaves me feeling helpless and hopeless and scared, and I don't want to feel this way. Is this just bleakness for its own sake or are we being encouraged to come up with somekind of solution so that more people don't have to suffer like this in the future?
I guess it's pretty much bleakness for its own sake. Just a word picture. If it encourages you to try and come up with a solution, more power to you, I suppose.
Also, yes, of course Bob is right, but those other people are insignificant for the purposes of this writing.
Chelsea, I liked it. It was deep and dark, but beautiful all at once.
Yep, just like a thunderstorm.
Very powerful, like a punch in the stomach. I wanted it to go on. I wanted you to build on it, to take these characters somewhere, but then that would have destroyed the point, the theme being futility.
I'd meant to respond to this topic a lot earlier, but couldn't construct a sound reply.
I think that, within these few depictions of inner struggle, self-perceived inadequacy, and individual desire, we can all find some degree of sympathetic understanding. We've all gone through at least one of these moments at least once in our life, knowing that no skein of fate is spun in perfect gold, but is oft riddled with impurities.
I like the imagery you create in the vivid description of each character's inner turmoil, and wish only that you could elaborate more on each of them. Perhaps turn it into a story and find some consolidation -- a meeting of all the characters in some fashion?
Love the writing Chelsea, and here's hoping you'll post more of your work.
Kai
Thank you, Kai, Sharie, Reclusive Thinker. I appreciate all the comments very much.
As for expanding on this piece, I've been thinking about it, since so many have suggested it. Reclusive Thinker is right in saying that the reason it didn't go any further is that its point is futility, but I think I might have an idea that will continue it a bit. If it goes anywhere, I'll post it.
Thanks again, you lovely people.
I too would like to see further expansion. In any case, it's beautiful and extremely powerful.
I agree. It is very powerful. I also agree with Bob. By way of that agreement, I see this as a reminder that those who want to provide the help, such as myself, have to reach into the shadows at times...the darker parts of the world, and offer a hand to those who need it and will accept it.
chelsea,
Nice work. The individuals you paint are outlooks and persona's of people in everyday life. At least thats how I see it. If you do a an expantion of this piece, keep doing what you are doing. Present other characters, with their persona, flaws and so on.
It gives the reader insight to worlds that writers think of. Keep up the good work.
fonzie