Mayhem and Madness, Unreal Reality

Hey guys, so in the last week my life has gotten a little bit messy. I should still update on time, as this is something incredibly important, but I am going to leave the almost journalistic ones out of it, for now. However, I will still be posting three times a week, attempting to do so on Monday's, Wednesday's, and Thursday's. I'm really excited to say that in the last two weeks, I have had 120 hits on these posts. If you have not had a chance to look through my previous posts, I hope you do so.

I previously stated that my goal was to post a personal update, an article or review, and then a reflection. It is far more likely that I will be posting some of my previously posted writing (stuff you can find elsewhere on the internet), an article or review, and then one that will be in different categories (see my business proposal update, and in the future I plan to include survey's and requests for opinions on different story lines or characters. I may post synopsis' of my new or upcoming writing or details about certain stories or characters). For now, you will have to forgive me, I am going to post a story I wrote at age 14 for my English class. I got the equivalent of an A+ on it, and a note from my teacher that they did not want to know what lead me to write it. When I was 18, I re-worked the story and submitted it to my first writers craft teacher. She was not nearly as content with it. Her criticism was that it was not realistic. Read it and let me know what you think?

Date: 6th February, 2008Draft: #2
Title: Unreal Reality

The girl stood as a lone survivor. She was the destructive hurricane that had wrecked everything in her path and was, only now, slowly dying. With little heed to the remaining proof of her earlier temper, the girl kicked any of the objects she felt were unnecessarily hindering to her out of her way as she journeyed the remaining five steps to the far corner of her room. 

There she stood, oddly detached, as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. It was a full-length mirror, and it was one of the only objects that remained intact in her room. The girl cocked her head as she looked at herself. It took a moment for her to even realize that she was, indeed, looking at herself. The reflection that looked back from the mirror at her was far removed from the other her she knew. This reflection looked nothing like the other girl, this reflection resembled a bloody wraith. 

The girl looking back at her had bloody gouges down her face, the rapidly drying red was the only color on a face that was otherwise the color of death. A receding redness in her eyes left behind a deep and vivid green coloring. Smudges of mascara had not fully been wiped off by the scalding hot water. The water had also caused red and nearly raw spots over much of her skin that she knew would fade and disappear by morning. Her hair was a rapidly drying tangle of auburn curls, and blood dripped from viscous scratches that criss-crossed each other across her legs and arms.
She had a headache. The Advil she had taken earlier had not helped. It grew progressively work instead and now her stomach also hurt as well. She turned to the shelf where she normally kept her migraine relief- only to find that she had knocked the shelf at some point, from the wall. Clutching the corner of her towel she knelt and shifted piles of her belongings until she found what she had been searching for. Picking up the bottle of extra strength migraine relief Advil, she quickly and efficiently dry swallowed the capsules. Carefully she walked the other two steps to her bed. The girl crawled into the corner of the mattress where the two walls of her room met. Here she curled up, he back in the corner and slept almost immediately, exhausted from the spending of so much emotional energy just an hour before. 

It was still dark outside when, just a short three hours later, her alarm went off jolting her into the world. Thought she wanted to hit the snooze as any average teenager would, she instead stretched and climbed from her corner. Gathering the towel about her again, the girl went back to the shower.

This time she did not scald herself with the water. The girl did not tear out her hair or gouge out her skin. She had bitten off her nails so she could not again scratch herself. Her eye color had faded back again to the neutral hazel it always was. The couple hours of sleep had done nothing to abate the headache so she took three more Advil capsules, and suddenly the girl from hours before was gone, and the other girl had returned. Choosing her outfit carefully and applying her makeup with perfection she hid the signs of the night before. She readied herself for the day of school before her, smiling to herself and hiding any sign that she was not feeling well.
Throughout the day she laughed and joked with her classmates. At lunch she hid in the library, taking a few more pills for the migraine so she could focus on her reading. By the end of the day she had all but forgotten the other girl.

As she stood at her locker, every now and then someone would stop and talk to her. She would wave and make a return comment, smiling and discussing classes or homework. Nobody mentioned the look that was new to her that day. They didn’t ask if she was all right when she fell silent at moments, or the far away and lonely look she had tried unsuccessfully to hide all day.

She swallowed a few more Advil to keep her from getting sick on the walk home from school. She intended to go home, do her homework, take a bath, eat a light supper and then sleep right through to the next day. That being decided, she headed for the half an hour walk home.
When the students got to school the next morning, she didn’t come in. It wasn’t a big deal since she had seemed pretty ill the day before. They all figured she’d just been sick and so no one was really worried. The first announcement of the morning was made by the principle.

His voice, which was normally cheery and an attempt to grab people’s attention, was quiet and subdued. The change in tone caused more quiet than it would have otherwise. “Hello students,” he began, “last night on of your class mates was killed. A truck hit her on her way home from school. She reportedly walked into the oncoming transporter and was dead from her injuries by the time the police arrived.” 

He stopped for a moment. Perhaps to collect wayward thoughts and gather them into a coherent statement. “It is always awful when we loose one of our students, but especially when we loose one in this manner. It seems that it was a successful suicide attempt, and the driver did not see her prior to the collision.” He let this sink in before continuing, “There is a social worker and investigating officer here this afternoon, anyone with information on this student is asked to come and talk to them and tell them what they know or what they may have noticed in the past couple of days. There are also grief councilors available after the announcements today for anybody who would like to see them. Thank you.” With those final two words, the Principle’s voice died.
None of the girl’s classmates said anything for several long moments. The teachers asked if anybody knew anything- but nobody did. They asked if anybody needed to go to guidance to see the councilors, but nobody did.