Thread: My Morning

The bring morning sun shines unwelcome through the tattered blinds. Dust, stirred up by my slightest movement wafts though the violent beam of sunlight. I lay on my back, eyes closed, cracked fingernails digging into my scalp as I force my rough palms into my eyelids to block out the world. My half naked body, coated with sweat begins to chill. I crack open my left eye just long enough to grab the dirty sheet off the floor beside my bed. I sweep the thin cloth over my body and roll over, curling into a ball. My stomach churns, nausea rising like a wave in my abdomen. I want only one thing, but I force the thoughts away. I have to resist.

The pill bottle looms on the nightstand barely out of reach. The orange bottle teases me mercilessly. The delicate white capsules inside will surly being relief, but not the euphoria I used to seek. I have to stop, I know I must. I roll over, turning away from the bottle as a terrible chill sweeps though every bone in my nearly emaciated body. I haven't eaten a proper meal in days, but still the thought of food nauseates me.

After a few minutes, I slowly sit up and wipe greasy strands of hair out of my bloodshot eyes. With a forced movement I reach around somberly, grasping for the bottle.

I softly say the same words I've uttered daily for the past month.

"Just one more time."

It paints a vivid enough picture of this person's defining issue and the pain they're currently in.

But since I don't know anything else about them, I don't know how to feel about it.

As an opening gambit for a longer piece, I'd call it successful...because I would be willing to read on another few paragraphs to find out more. But only if it cut away immediately to something else. What you have here lets us know what we need to know, and any more would be indulgent and unnecessary.

If it was meant as a stand alone piece, I refer back to my previous statement: I don't know enough about this person to know how to feel about it.

Originally Posted by 0rganic

The bring bright? morning sun shines unwelcome through the tattered blinds. Dust, stirred up by my slightest movement You either need another comma here or you need to cut the one at the start of the sentence wafts though the violent beam of sunlight. I lay on my back, eyes closed, cracked fingernails digging into my scalp as I force my rough palms into "Over" would serve better. "Into" implies some disturbing actions my eyelids to block out the world. My halfhyphenate naked body, coated with sweat comma begins to chill. I crack open my left eye just long enough to grab the dirty sheet off the floor beside my bed. I sweep the thin cloth over my body and roll over, curling into a ball. My stomach churns, nausea rising like a wave in my abdomen. I want only one thing, but I force the thoughts away. I have to resist.

The pill bottle looms on the nightstand barely out of reach. The orange bottle teases me mercilessly Combine the first two sentences there. "The orange pill bottle looms on the nightstand, barely out of reach, teasing me mercilessly.". The delicate white capsules inside will surly Surely being Bring relief, but not the euphoria I used to seek. I have to stop, I know I must. I roll over, turning away from the bottle as a terrible chill sweeps though every bone in my nearly emaciated body. I haven't eaten a proper meal in days, but still the thought of food nauseates me.

After a few minutes, I slowly sit up and wipe greasy strands of hair out of my bloodshot eyes. With a forced movement I reach around somberly, grasping for the bottle.

I softly say the same words I've uttered daily for the past month.

"Just one more time."

Pretty good start. Just make the noted fixes, and keep going. The resigned desperation works pretty well.