View Full Version : A message

March 6th, 2013, 07:15 AM
This is the first submission I do to the forums, hope you enjoy it, feel free to comment and critic.


I felt it crawl from the back of my head again, I shook it trying to get rid of it but it was sticky remaining hooked on the back of my mind, as I walked I noticed the sound of my footsteps on the floor was only muffled by the sound of the rain hitting the window, the dim light coming from the street made the shadows linger around the room.

And again it was there, fighting to reach me, at first it was only a picture, her pink lips like an open wound. My hands scared away the memory, I didnít want to remember. My eyes glanced over my phone sitting on the top of my night desk, I knew the room as the back of my hand, only a few steps and I would be able to grab it, clench my hand around it and press the button that would lit up the phone.

But then what? There would be no message, I knew that, a feeling of despair rose up from my stomach, it reached my chest and stood there hurting, my body trembled but I was not cold.

-Come on! Come on!-

My hands were trembling and I had to put them together for them to stop, the feeling coming back, the memories flashing in my mind. Her curly hair, her sweet smell and those clear eyes...

-No! Stop it!-

I donít want it, my eyes jumped back to my phone again; I pray for her call but I know it wonít arrive. Then I feel it again, the regret crawling from the corner of my mind, all the words that I couldnít tell her, all the things I couldnít do with her. Before I knew it I had the phone in my hand, my finger touching the button.

The light blinded me and I saw myself reading it again, her last message, her rejection. I read them again for the hundredth time. She didnít use words as ďweĒ or ďtogetherĒ, she couldnít see how close we were, so she pushed me away, was it fear? Or was it hate? My head swirled in between these questions until I felt dizzy.

Why am I doing it? Why am I torturing myself reading her words? Because I like it, I should hate it, I shouldíve hated everything she did after she sent me the message but I couldnít, because I knew she was lying, it had to be that. So I loved her more, I fell deeper and deeper into despair, she didnít hated me, she loved me too.

-No! No! No!-

The pain in my head ran down at the same time as the drop of blood came rolling down my forehead, did I do that? Was it me who hit my head with the phone? I couldnít tell since it had being a long time since I last took the pills; they only make me dizzy, she told me I was fine without them, that I was making progress.

She loved me, I know it, even when she was with others, she always came back to me. She always held my hand at the end, heard my words and nurture my soul, nothing could take that from me, neither the pills nor the doctors. I swept my forehead with the back of my hand when the drop reached my eyebrow; it was a warm felling that ran down my spine.

-She will call me! She always does!-

My hands trembling as I stared at the phone, I donít know how many time passed but the sound of someone knocking on the door pulled me back.

-Go away! Leave me alone!-

I didnít understand what they screamed back at me, I didnít cared. I only cared for the phone. My mind drifted far away where she was, the soft touch of her skin, her long hair in between my fingers and then the sound, that dripping sound once and again. My surprise as I saw her still on the bed with her white garment, her naked arms stretched open as if inviting me to approach her.

The room was dark and my feet were hesitant, something was not right, I remember, it was not her twisted posture or her head hanging from the side of the bed what made me realize, it was that sound, the red line that ran all over her arm to her fingers and then dripped down to the carpet.

At that moment my jaw trembled, the fear rose up trough my skin and I took her in my arms, I felt the warm touch of her skin and reached down to the knife, it was stuck in between her stomach and it wasnít hard to take it off, my hands sensing the humid blood coming out of the wound.
I was still remembering when they kick down the door, in a few seconds the room I was in stopped being silent, I screamed and punched as they tried to grab me, everything was happening to someone else, I was not myself anymore. The only thing I could still watch was the phone, still waiting for her message, a message I knew was not going to arrive.

But I swear I didnít killed her, I loved her, indeed I was there that night and I was heartbroken but I couldnít do it, I know I couldnít, she was my everything. I know none will believe me, they already branded me, psychotic, mad, culprit, itís always the same, they donít understand what happens inside my head so they brand me.
But Iím sure I didnít kill her... or did I?

March 7th, 2013, 07:24 PM
not bad... the plot is pretty strong and the visuals are there

you've got some punctuation issues, however ...way too many commas where there ought to be periods!... you're frustrating the reader because he or she isn't prompted when to stop, and must therefore re-read virtually everything and figure out where an idea or clause comes to an end, and another starts

i think if this were rewritten with proper punctuation, along with some syntax and spelling corrections, it would work nicely