ruffryder88

Hey all,

I wrote this about 10 mins, of the top of my head, and would like to know what you think. (BTW, im not a writer, but my friend is, and she suggested wrting, as its cathartic. No sure if i agree, but i digress!)

Be honest.





He sat down, impatient to begin. He rolled up his sleeve and examined the exposed skin. Looking closely, he noticed the contours of the veins running beneath the surface. Tantalisingly close to the surface. Not now. Not yet.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, his skin looked almost golden, reflecting, radiating warmth.

Pain.

He raised his other hand. The light emanating from the object in his hand was not warm. In fact, it wasn’t even light; it was just cold hard darkness. An empty void, eager to be filled. The sheen of the steel sent a shiver down his spine. The shimmer of the metal called out to him, He could almost hear it. Inviting him to cut through, open the floodgates, let through the tidal wave building up against the barrier.

He gently ran the edge of the blade against his forearm, not even enough to make a scratch. The feel of the jagged edge woke him up. He took a sharp intake of breath, as he felt the adrenaline surge through his body. Relief was just a moment away.
He pushed down and ran the knife across the flesh, tearing the skin.

Contrary to what many believe, pain doesn’t feel good, and it is not pleasurable. It fills your body, overwhelms your emotions, to the point where its all you know. It also brings relief. For a few seconds, all you know is that pain, you are that pain. The burning of your nerves, scorched by the cold metal. For those few seconds, everything else is pushed out of your mind. All yours fears and sadness are washed away, no… thrown away. The pain has no time for emotions; it forces your mind to empty, to focus on the damage being inflicted on your ravaged senses.

For a moment, all the agony disappears. The never-ending torture momentarily halted. The feeling of calmness washes over the body, sometimes even bringing a smile to your face.

He closed his eyes. He could hear the birds singing outside. I can hear again. Now that the cloud had parted, he could feel the warmth of the sun over his body. Nourishing his soul, healing it. He lay there, savouring the absolute lack of emotion he felt. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad, and that was all he could hope for.

Eventually, it comes back. It gets tired of waiting. It waits for nothing. At first you feel a pang, as it slowly creeps back into your body.

NO.

As the wounded nerves begin to numb, you, somewhat ironically, begin to feel again. The black hole has to be filled, and the pain is more that ready to take its place. It crashes back, literally shattering your hopes. Crushing what little spirit has begun to seep into your body. You cling on, fighting to remember what it felt like to be free. But as the shackles tighten, you give up. What’s the point?

He felt like crying, but he knew there would be no tears. He rolled over and curled up into a ball, shivering. He felt tired now; the adrenaline had left his body, leaving a dull ache, permeating through his whole body. He closed his eyes.

Next time…

faking_sanity

um...well i'm not a writer either, i'm an aspiring writer as i'm sure many here are...and much of my experience and knowledge comes more from film classes than anything else, but uh...i got to say i like it and would love to read more. there are some grammar stuff and some spelling, but those are inconsequential since you've grabbed my attention. i would like to know more about the person, what motivated him; his appearance, right now isn't important, so it's good that you didn't feel the need to include that; also i would like know where this is taking place, since the content doesn't seem to need a time--it could happen in the future, past, or present--but it would be better if we could place him somewhere, in an abandoned delapidated building, or in his parents' house with his bedroom locked.
well that's all i could come up with for now. keep it up and would love to read more, see what happens and what not

Leapord

Very interesting. I do want to read more of your work, although I'm not normally a fan of work this depressing. I'm also having difficulty coming up with critiques to offer (besides grammar). I do have to question this line though: "Contrary to what many believe, pain doesn’t feel good, and it is not pleasurable." I really can't think of anyone who believes pain to be good or pleasurable.

Also, you need to be more consistent with your point of view. You switch to second person for a bit, which I think makes sense for the first of the places you did so, though not for the rest. You also slipped into first person for a bit: "I can hear again." That switch I'm guessing was purely accidental.

And to be more specific, this is the paragraph where I think second person works:
It doesn't seem to work as well for everything after that though. I say that because most readers can identify with what is written above, but not so many live in "never-ending torture," or can identify as well with the relief that the pain brought. I feel that for the remainder of the story you should switch back to describing solely the main character's experience, and not assume what others would experience.

Hope that helps

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People would sooner die than think. In fact, most of them do. -- George Bernard Shaw
Leapord is my name, leopard is the animal.