Sleuth Home - Message Boards - The Gumshoe Lounge

Apr-5-2007 20:36

Prompt - "Describe what a friend is not".

Just Like the Movies

Tears spilling. Eyeliner and mascara dripping down my soft cheeks as sobs formed onto my lips.
Hyperventilation drained me of all thoughts, energy, and breath. How could she do this to me?
Pain was trapped within my body, clawing it's way out. I wanted it out. Instead, I cradled a pillow against my limp and shaking body.
Flashes of the night's events dulled my vision, tore through my brain, burrowing inside my heart. His smile. Her laugh. His hands. Her lips.
Their betrayal.
My one true love faded into the arms of my best friend, their bodies melting into each other as they made out. Thinking that the dark, loud, theater would mask their affair, shock overcame them as my eyes washed over them.
Finally, Mark made eye contact with me and his hands dropped like my heart did. His sweet lips whispered my name as my blood boiled to a crisp. Pain swallowed my heart into an abyss of pure torture.
I wanted to run. Move. Do something.
Needles pricked my nerves as Dana's eyes met mine. Water trickled down her flushed cheeks. "Trisha, you don't understand," she tried to explain, as if those four words could take back her betrayal. As if she was the victim.
"Yes, I do understand. I now understand what a best friend is," venom words foamed from my dry lips, the cracked pink flesh adding to my pain.
Steps came to my feet, so many of them. They needed to be released as quick as I could, the world fazing by as I obeyed my shoes. Thoughts of Dana's friendship pressed my conscious into further frustration.
How could she do this to me
Friends don't steal their friend's boyfriend.
Rage clouded my thoughts, pumped my veins, squeezed my organs. Squeezing my stomach so hard. Too hard.
Vomit resulted in my emotional breakdown. Well, "emotional breaking".
I can feel it.
I'm falling, down, down, and finally crashing, the sick taste of friendship lingering on my lips.

Apr-5-2007 20:47

Lol Another short story:

I'd Kill For Some Hobbies

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

Angelic walls surrounded my body, becoming engulfed in the light. The constant drip was a curse yet a blessing.

Sharp pain stabbed then numbed to the back of my head, as the barriers attacked me. I could no longer distinguish color or feeling; my eyes burned from the white, blinding me. The walls, ceiling, floor, everything would melt together as if I were in my own little world.

Technically I already was.

According to the medical reports I had lost it and was forced to join the prison cells for the mentally ill. Truth be told, I was always sane. Especially before I joined this place.

I have nothing to live for anymore.

Am I even alive?

Eating, sleeping, breathing; that's all I do. Nothing else I can do. My life is endless and immortal. How can you die if you aren't alive?

My only hobby is concentrating on the drips. Counting them, making up music, and whatever spur of the moment thought that saves my sanity from overflowing the consiciousness of my mind.

Sometimes I want to scream. Not from any emotions, just to see if anything will happen.

Inhale.

"I'M FALLING DOWN!" my lungs strained.

Exhale. Wait. Calculating results...

None.

Did I even scream?

Where was the world when I called out to it? I don't even deserve to be here.

So I have a chemical inbalance in my brain, causing severe mood swings and usually dramatic violence. It's not my fault.

They were the ones that provoked me.

My fingers subconsicously ran through my hair, pictures from the albums of memories engulfing my mind. Long. Silky. Blonde.

It was here or jail.

Why didn't I pick jail?

The barriers keeping me away - or them out? - seemed to close in on me. I couldn't escape. Where was the door? Was there even a door?

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

I was drowning. Oxygen was battered out of me as I tried to swim to shore. My endless ocean of white suffocated me, blinded me, choked me. Perspiration soaked my skin. -

Apr-5-2007 20:49

- The waves crashed upon me, hurling my lifeless body against the walls.

Was that all they were?

Walls?

Towering, smothering, viscious walls destroying me with no mercy.

It seemed it never stopped; the closer they came, the farther away they went.

Was this a never ending cycle? Just another attempt at destroying me?

Such a tricky fox.

Air was what I needed.

I'd kill for it. A nice smooth glass of air and an exhale of this water. I wonder if there was a kitchen in this ocean. Was it even an ocean?

Gosh, my eyes burn. From the salt. Or maybe the lights.

Crrrriiiiinnnnnnnnk.

Hinges swung open, the sound killing my ears.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?!" a voice gripped me, torturing my ears.

Inhale.

"I fell," I stated.

Exhale.

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.



Incase anyone couldn't comprehend:

It's about a girl who is bipolar and kills someone. She gets the choice; jail or a mental institute. She chooses the mental institute, even though she believes she was perfectly sane, and due to the pressure of the white room she's locked in which was too quiet except for the drips of water from the sink in the bathroom next to her, she cracks. The girl is "falling down" as in, she was on the edge of sanity and was falling, like it was a cliff, and she landed in an ocean. Although, she was in her own room the entire time, basically having a mental attack which seemed as if she were drowning in the own nothingness of her life.


Oh, and anyone can post their short stories here... :D

This reply has been deleted by a Moderator

Apr-6-2007 01:23

Did that really happen?

Apr-6-2007 02:10

If it didn't your a great story teller!!!!

This reply has been deleted by a Moderator

Apr-6-2007 13:44

No, none of that stuff happened. lol

Teehee, thanks. :D

Do you have any short stories you've written?

Apr-7-2007 15:05

no i'll write one about breeding stupid cats

Apr-7-2007 15:08

or maybe not

Apr-7-2007 15:09

nah something else......