Post by Rose's Thorn on Aug 7, 2008 1:55:01 GMT -5
Okay, so, I been thinking of making a thread just for my stuff, so here it is.
Yeah, I know, I shouldn't kidnap a thread all for me, bein' all selfish and such, but I've been thinking of making this thread for a while, so I did. There! Hah! I have claimed this spot on the forum for my stuff!
Note: I have a lot of random crap. I'll try to keep it fairly low and not post all the stupid sh!t I'm constantly writing.
So, anyway, first on the list, something I wrote recently that I need a real critique on, which nobody seems capable of giving o.O so here:
I wasn’t sure where I was exactly, and it took me a moment of staring blankly around to make heads or tails or what was happening.
I was at a four-way intersection, I realized, and had no idea how I’d gotten there. The wind was blowing, hard, as I could see by the flapping of a flagpole in a nearby parking lot. But I couldn’t feel it. It was like I was staring at it through a windowpane – I could see it, but I couldn’t feel it, couldn’t taste it…I was there but in an out-of-body sort of way. Like television, but 3-D and with better sound effects.
I still couldn’t figure out what I was doing there. It didn’t really make a lot of sense. One moment I was dozing in my mom’s car, feeling the rumbling of the car and the annoying lulling sound of one of my mom’s preferred singers on the radio, and the next I was standing here.
What’d she do, drop me out of her car?
I was glaring furtively at the road. Her car, the loud red minivan, was nowhere to be seen.
The b!tch! This was low, even for her.
I started hiking down the side of the road, trying to remember just where this particular four-way intersection was. I think it was…the one by the Friendly’s. That’s it. The one by Friendly’s. I could even see the Friendly’s a way off in the distance, the umbrella’s flapping under the heavy winds.
How long had I been here on the side of the road? How the hell was I getting back? Why had she ditched me here?
Stupid mother. Why would she ditch me here?
I decided to go to the post office nearby. My friend’s older brother worked there, and he would be able to take me home. Well, to somewhere. Home wasn’t the priority of places on my list to go to.
I was about to step across the road, the “Walk” sign flashing, when a car whizzed in front of me, horrifyingly fast, and careened through the intersection – against a red light.
“What the hell is wrong with you—” I started to shout.
A truck blew down the other direction, rumbling down the road, an unstoppable force ready to collide head on with the smaller, black BMW.
The truck hit it, full on, pushing it, shoving it down the road; the back of the truck started to turn, and began to tip; the truck tipped further, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa slowly making its final tumble – it just couldn’t fall.
And it did. It fell, a horrific crash erupting through the earth, startling my feet, landing full on onto a pickup truck, crushing the front of it. Nothing but the back wheels of the pickup could be seen, a sad reminder of what had once been a brand new truck.
The back was suddenly plowed into by a retarded tailgater, a small blue car, crushing what was left of the pickup. Leaving nothing.
Other cars had stopped, cell phones had left their pockets, people jabbering away. People who were well out of harm’s way and had every opportunity to drive around the monumental accident hadn’t, and were staring, gawking, at the spectacle.
I was horrified. Three cars and a truck had been totaled. Through the smoldering rubble of broken metal and shattered gla$$, I could distinctly see the most terrifying thing of all.
In the BMW, a young man, barely older than me, was still visible through the otherwise non-car-resembling ma$$ – his arm was lying across what had been the dashboard, half of his face shattered by gla$$ dust. He looked like a zombie, a zombie who’d been tortured to death.
My throat caught, my eyes barely able to handle the sight; my head began to reel. I forced myself to look at the truck instead, a momentary relief before the shock only came again.
The truck driver was still alive. I don’t know how I knew this, but I did. He was still alive. But barely. The gla$$ from the windows of the truck has completely shattered and crumpled, slicing up and cutting his entire body to shreds and scraps. His skin had been scraped raw, leaving every vestige of his flesh bloody, completely red. He was breathing – but not for long.
Oh, god no…What the hell…
I tore my gaze away, but could only meet with the most tragic of the corpses.
The pickup was no longer a pickup but merely a mockery of what had once been such a glorious car. I don’t know how I saw it, because I shouldn’t have been able to see it, but I saw the bodies. What was left of them.
They were as totaled as the car itself was. Broken beyond repair. Between both the driver and the pa$$enger, gore painted the insides of the cab, or what was left of it, seeping down along the asphalt along with the oil leaking out, a mixture of grease and blood.
There was nothing to see of them. What may have once been a finger here, what was possibly an eyeball there…
I closed my eyes, not daring to see any more, but the images haunted my mind. I opened my eyes and saw the last, blue car.
The people inside were no better than the rest. The driver was breathing, somehow, her life within grasp – she could be saved. But her legs were both crumpled under the hood, trapped there, being cut off by the steering wheel crushing them off.
She would make it. Her legs wouldn’t.
Did I say the pickup was the worst of the things there to see?
I was lying.
The worst thing was what the stupid woman had behind her.
The small blond head had shattered through the window, his head hanging limply and awkwardly against it. Cuts scattered his body, but he was still intact – much less could be said for the others in the crash – but his head and body weren’t lined up. His neck…I wanted to hurl. I held my hand over my mouth, trying not to imagine how his head could be touched, and it would go rolling away…
How old was he? Five? Four?
The racing man in the BMW, disembodied arm and face glimmering with dust, the unstoppable driver of the truck, skin peeled raw from his body, his breathing now dying out, the unfortunate driver and pa$$enger of the pickup, no longer even any bodies to account for, the over-eager woman in the small blue car, alive but legless, with the little boy, trapped and nearly headless in the back.
I shut my eyes, whirled around, gripping the limb of a tree. The noise all around me faded, somehow, my mind slowly losing its sanity as the sounds died out.
And I could feel a rumbling beneath me, hear an oldies playing out an angsty tune, the sensation of movement coursing along my body. I opened my eyes.
Back in mom’s car. I looked to my left, saw Mom. She was driving away, completely oblivious to any accident.
Accident?
Had there even been an accident?
I…fallen asleep…A dream…nightmare…
“Waking up, sleepyhead?” she joked, taking a turn into that very four-way intersection. I tensed up as we entered, then laughed at myself – duh, nothing was happening…Same intersection, and my dream wasn’t exactly going to change that, now was it?
Besides, that made sense. Why else would I have seen inside the cars or known that there were two people in the pickup – I doubted even any stupid forensics would have been able to tell if there was so much as one person in there, granted they could even find any parts. How would I have known if they were breathing or not? I couldn’t, duh.
What kind of sicko was I to even have dreams like that? Dreams are what a person’s thinking, and if I’m thinking stuff like that…
Maybe I should see that psychiatrist…Hmm…
A single mosh of letters was still whirling in my head, twisting around and around my brain, suffocating it. Just a few letters, some numbers, too, practically meaningless. FT45D3. How random was that? I mean, come on, after seeing all of that in my nightmare, I remember the dumb BMW’s license plate?
I laughed. Stupid, stupid me.
The next day, at four o’clock, the traffic news came on to report that a serious accident at Boonton and Clover, resulting in five deaths, was blocking both roads. The picture revealed a smoking ma$$ of BMW, truck, pickup and blue car.
I fainted on the couch.
Yeah, I know, I shouldn't kidnap a thread all for me, bein' all selfish and such, but I've been thinking of making this thread for a while, so I did. There! Hah! I have claimed this spot on the forum for my stuff!
Note: I have a lot of random crap. I'll try to keep it fairly low and not post all the stupid sh!t I'm constantly writing.
So, anyway, first on the list, something I wrote recently that I need a real critique on, which nobody seems capable of giving o.O so here:
I wasn’t sure where I was exactly, and it took me a moment of staring blankly around to make heads or tails or what was happening.
I was at a four-way intersection, I realized, and had no idea how I’d gotten there. The wind was blowing, hard, as I could see by the flapping of a flagpole in a nearby parking lot. But I couldn’t feel it. It was like I was staring at it through a windowpane – I could see it, but I couldn’t feel it, couldn’t taste it…I was there but in an out-of-body sort of way. Like television, but 3-D and with better sound effects.
I still couldn’t figure out what I was doing there. It didn’t really make a lot of sense. One moment I was dozing in my mom’s car, feeling the rumbling of the car and the annoying lulling sound of one of my mom’s preferred singers on the radio, and the next I was standing here.
What’d she do, drop me out of her car?
I was glaring furtively at the road. Her car, the loud red minivan, was nowhere to be seen.
The b!tch! This was low, even for her.
I started hiking down the side of the road, trying to remember just where this particular four-way intersection was. I think it was…the one by the Friendly’s. That’s it. The one by Friendly’s. I could even see the Friendly’s a way off in the distance, the umbrella’s flapping under the heavy winds.
How long had I been here on the side of the road? How the hell was I getting back? Why had she ditched me here?
Stupid mother. Why would she ditch me here?
I decided to go to the post office nearby. My friend’s older brother worked there, and he would be able to take me home. Well, to somewhere. Home wasn’t the priority of places on my list to go to.
I was about to step across the road, the “Walk” sign flashing, when a car whizzed in front of me, horrifyingly fast, and careened through the intersection – against a red light.
“What the hell is wrong with you—” I started to shout.
A truck blew down the other direction, rumbling down the road, an unstoppable force ready to collide head on with the smaller, black BMW.
The truck hit it, full on, pushing it, shoving it down the road; the back of the truck started to turn, and began to tip; the truck tipped further, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa slowly making its final tumble – it just couldn’t fall.
And it did. It fell, a horrific crash erupting through the earth, startling my feet, landing full on onto a pickup truck, crushing the front of it. Nothing but the back wheels of the pickup could be seen, a sad reminder of what had once been a brand new truck.
The back was suddenly plowed into by a retarded tailgater, a small blue car, crushing what was left of the pickup. Leaving nothing.
Other cars had stopped, cell phones had left their pockets, people jabbering away. People who were well out of harm’s way and had every opportunity to drive around the monumental accident hadn’t, and were staring, gawking, at the spectacle.
I was horrified. Three cars and a truck had been totaled. Through the smoldering rubble of broken metal and shattered gla$$, I could distinctly see the most terrifying thing of all.
In the BMW, a young man, barely older than me, was still visible through the otherwise non-car-resembling ma$$ – his arm was lying across what had been the dashboard, half of his face shattered by gla$$ dust. He looked like a zombie, a zombie who’d been tortured to death.
My throat caught, my eyes barely able to handle the sight; my head began to reel. I forced myself to look at the truck instead, a momentary relief before the shock only came again.
The truck driver was still alive. I don’t know how I knew this, but I did. He was still alive. But barely. The gla$$ from the windows of the truck has completely shattered and crumpled, slicing up and cutting his entire body to shreds and scraps. His skin had been scraped raw, leaving every vestige of his flesh bloody, completely red. He was breathing – but not for long.
Oh, god no…What the hell…
I tore my gaze away, but could only meet with the most tragic of the corpses.
The pickup was no longer a pickup but merely a mockery of what had once been such a glorious car. I don’t know how I saw it, because I shouldn’t have been able to see it, but I saw the bodies. What was left of them.
They were as totaled as the car itself was. Broken beyond repair. Between both the driver and the pa$$enger, gore painted the insides of the cab, or what was left of it, seeping down along the asphalt along with the oil leaking out, a mixture of grease and blood.
There was nothing to see of them. What may have once been a finger here, what was possibly an eyeball there…
I closed my eyes, not daring to see any more, but the images haunted my mind. I opened my eyes and saw the last, blue car.
The people inside were no better than the rest. The driver was breathing, somehow, her life within grasp – she could be saved. But her legs were both crumpled under the hood, trapped there, being cut off by the steering wheel crushing them off.
She would make it. Her legs wouldn’t.
Did I say the pickup was the worst of the things there to see?
I was lying.
The worst thing was what the stupid woman had behind her.
The small blond head had shattered through the window, his head hanging limply and awkwardly against it. Cuts scattered his body, but he was still intact – much less could be said for the others in the crash – but his head and body weren’t lined up. His neck…I wanted to hurl. I held my hand over my mouth, trying not to imagine how his head could be touched, and it would go rolling away…
How old was he? Five? Four?
The racing man in the BMW, disembodied arm and face glimmering with dust, the unstoppable driver of the truck, skin peeled raw from his body, his breathing now dying out, the unfortunate driver and pa$$enger of the pickup, no longer even any bodies to account for, the over-eager woman in the small blue car, alive but legless, with the little boy, trapped and nearly headless in the back.
I shut my eyes, whirled around, gripping the limb of a tree. The noise all around me faded, somehow, my mind slowly losing its sanity as the sounds died out.
And I could feel a rumbling beneath me, hear an oldies playing out an angsty tune, the sensation of movement coursing along my body. I opened my eyes.
Back in mom’s car. I looked to my left, saw Mom. She was driving away, completely oblivious to any accident.
Accident?
Had there even been an accident?
I…fallen asleep…A dream…nightmare…
“Waking up, sleepyhead?” she joked, taking a turn into that very four-way intersection. I tensed up as we entered, then laughed at myself – duh, nothing was happening…Same intersection, and my dream wasn’t exactly going to change that, now was it?
Besides, that made sense. Why else would I have seen inside the cars or known that there were two people in the pickup – I doubted even any stupid forensics would have been able to tell if there was so much as one person in there, granted they could even find any parts. How would I have known if they were breathing or not? I couldn’t, duh.
What kind of sicko was I to even have dreams like that? Dreams are what a person’s thinking, and if I’m thinking stuff like that…
Maybe I should see that psychiatrist…Hmm…
A single mosh of letters was still whirling in my head, twisting around and around my brain, suffocating it. Just a few letters, some numbers, too, practically meaningless. FT45D3. How random was that? I mean, come on, after seeing all of that in my nightmare, I remember the dumb BMW’s license plate?
I laughed. Stupid, stupid me.
The next day, at four o’clock, the traffic news came on to report that a serious accident at Boonton and Clover, resulting in five deaths, was blocking both roads. The picture revealed a smoking ma$$ of BMW, truck, pickup and blue car.
I fainted on the couch.