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My Short Story - part 4It's about 2am when I take the keys to Phoebe's car; I walk outside & hop into her red Hyundai i20. I turn the ignition and begin to drive away. The street lights guiding a path, like fairies showing me which street to drive down. When suddenly the lights stop guiding. A sharp corner. The car swerves. The car skids as I scream, my heart pounding in my head. Then blank.
I awake as the anesthetic gas wears off, I look around in my hospital room; filled with sweet flowers. I begin to wish I had never drunk so much, I should change the way I am. I need to be my own person. Become an individual, someone who doesn't follow others. I need to change. I start to cry as I see my mother out in the hallway. I turn my body and begin to stand. When I fall to the ground. My legs have given in. My mother rushes into my room and helps me up onto the white bed. She looks down at me, a mouth turned upside down. Her mouth starts to move. But the only words I hear are
My Short Story - part 3We reach the party at Neil's house, it's loud and messy; his mother's rose bushes already filled with empty beer cups. I walk up to the house with Phoebe at my side; I can feel her excitement building, her big personality already shining through. As we reach the hallway, the students from other schools push through the different rooms. Some are yelling to each other, others already making out on the stairwell. A tall guy from our school approaches Phoebe and me; it's Neil. He hands us both a paper cup with a bubbly brown liquid. I can instantly smell the alcohol. Phoebe & I both drink as we walk through the house, meeting new people in each room. I get handed a bottle of vodka whilst I'm sitting on the couch with Phoebe. I pass it to her, not wanting to get drunk again.
"You're such a wimp Louise" Phoebe says in a condescending tone.
I look at her, about to argue; when I snatch the bottle from her hand & take a swing. Instantly by mind and body get warmer. The feeling, it ma
My Short Story - part 2BANG! I slammed my bedroom door as I storm in & began pacing. Agh! Why does my mother always do this to me? I can do what I want with my life, I can go wherever I want, when I want! She has no control over me, who does she think she is? This isn't the first time that she's said my friends are a bad influence. Just because they all have boyfriends and go out drinking doesn't mean that I do too. It's ridiculous! It's like she thinks that I have no brain; that I am incapable of leading my own life. I can still hear her yelling up the stairwell as I throw myself onto my bed. I'm about to start crying when my phone starts blearing "Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance. I turn over my iPhone to see that Phoebe is calling me. I answer the phone straight away.
"Hey Phoebe, what's up?", I say chocking back the tears.
"Oh, hey! Heaps! I've brought news!" in here usual overly bubbly voice.
"Neil Warrick is having a party at his place tonight! Everyone from school is going, even those ho
My Short Story - part 1The bumper, crumpled with the force of traveling at 112 kilometers per hour. Smashed windshield & headlights shower the highway and the insides of my car with deadly slivers of glass. Thrown violently onto the grass, a former passenger door now ripped savagely from its hinges. Both steering wheel and dashboard are compacted into one mangled mess. Front wheels still spinning, as the red Hyundai i20 leans against a towering Cedrus tree. Inside this almost unrecognizable vehicle, sits me. Both legs caught amongst the damaged scrap metal, my head flowing with blood from the impact of slamming through the windshield. My head is pounding, like rave music bursting from the speakers of a ten foot stereo. Sirens begin to sound in these early hours, adding to the noise in my head. The emergency services coming to pry me from this disarrayed vehicle; to save my life. If it's even worth saving.
As the lights on the roof flash by, I can hear my mother yelling at me, just as sh
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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