This is my unfinished story that i would like to get published..btw im only 15
love bug
,
Wednesday, 4th of August 2010 03:09:05 PM
Dear Sherry As l woke up, l shielded my eyes from the sun that love bug poured through the oak window. My body laid in crisp white sheets as Registered User flashbacks rushed through my mind.
'''…Do you want to?''' Joined: Friday, 7th of May 2010, 01:48:01 '''…l do not know, l do not think we should.''' Posts: 1117 />'''…We will be fine, do not worry.'''
l pushed myself up Viewed 4534 times against the bed is backboard and rubbed my temples, l felt nauseas and
sore. l climbed out of my warm bed, rapped a bed sheet around my body, and
twisted it into a knot above my chest.
Items seemed in disorder
as l walked through my loft bedroom. While glancing over the loft, l
spotted a folded piece of paper leaning against the vase on the dinner
table. l unfolded the paper and began to read the note.
''
Dear Sherry,
Thanks for a great night. We should do it again
sometime.
Ps. Welcome to the world of AIDS. -Your Infector
''
Thump thump, thump thump.
l felt numb, there was
something in my throat that l just could not
3
/>swallow. The note dropped to the table, knocking something to the floor.
My eyes never wandered to the floor, my heart ached to much to care. />
Once again, flashbacks raced through my mind from the begin of the
night to the end.
'''…Would you like to dance?'''
/>'''…Sure, I'd love to.'''
The words, ''Your Infector.''
echoed in my mind. ''Tommy? Tom? Tomas? Timmy? Troy?'' l repeated to
myself trying to remember his name, for the alcohol fogged my memory. />
'''…Hi, I am Tristan.'''
'''…Hey, Nice to meet you.
I am Sherry.'''
l paced around the loft as tears moistened my
cheeks. The bed sheet fell to the floor as l walked to the bathroom and
started the shower. Immediately, steam filled the tiny plain room and
fogged the mirror.
l closed my eyes as the water poured from
the showerhead onto my face. ''l can wash it away, everything will be
alright.'' l kept repeating these words, trying to fool myself into
believing them, even though l knew it was not true.
When l was
in the shower l felt pure. Turning the knob all the way to the left was the
hardest thing to do, my moment of purity was over and l was insecure about
everything.
4
l stepped out of the shower; right
foot, then left and wiped the mirror clear of fog. While checking my
reflection, in the smudged mirror, an unclear figure crept behind me and
passed through the door. Puddles of water formed under my feet as l
followed the figure through the doorframe.
''Who is there?''
Sherry received no answer.
Thump thump, thump thump.
/>l peeked around the wall, that separated the bathroom from the living
room, and held my breathe. The floor crept under my feet as l approached
the dark figure.
My hand shook as l reached for the overcoat
that covered the figure.
One, two, three. Swoosh, the overcoat
fell to the ground.
Beep, beep, beep. ''Good morning New York
City , your listening to W.T.B.A and it is 7:00 Am. It is starting to feel
a lot like winter with a temperature of 34° F, time to take those winter
jackets out of the clos-''
l slapped my hand on the off button,
as the alarm clock fell to the floor. My body jerked up and l scratched my
neck gasping for air. Confused and unsure of myself l got out of bed and
inspected my loft. l glanced at the vase and to my surprise, there was no
note waiting to be read. My eyes wandered around in concern and fear that
someone was lingering within my loft.
5
l sat in my
overstuffed chair and light filled the room, as l turned the
/>television on. Breaking News flashed on the screen. l tried to listen to
the report, but when the young news caster said those words, ''The Infector
my heart sank.
Boom, boom, boom. l walked to my door, opened
it, and picked up the fresh newspaper. The front page read, ''Young women
meet their infector.''
l ran my hand under my eyes to clear
the tears. This can not be happening, l thought. ''Was it a sign? Could l
have helped them?'' l kept asking myself questions that could not be
answered. l turned off the television, put the newspaper on the dinner
table, and ran into my bedroom to change. l pulled a jogging suit out of
my bureau and grabbed a pair of Nikes out of the closet. l rushed to put
everything on and l ran out the front door. While on the fourth floor, l
clicked the auto start for my car and continued jogging down the stairs.
l had to clear my mind, driving into the quiet country would
help sooth my shaken nerves. l drove to a familiar place, where my mother
and l took daily walks together. We called it The tranquil pond. The
little crystal clear pond held an abundant amount of lily pads.
Catninetails were sporadically placed around the pond and in the cluster
of trees you could hear the baby birds chirping high in their nest as
their mothers fed them. This was the one place l could clear my mind and
forget about everything. l
6
laid on the green
ground and watched as the puffy white clouds passed by. Some were short
and fluffy and other were long and skinny but
every single one
look beautiful against the deep blue sky.
The sky turned grey.
Within minutes l was once again in a pure moment, with water gently
sprinkling my hands and face. It felt bizarre; laying there like a
lifeless weed, with it is roots soaking up the water, waiting to bloom
into a beautiful flower once again. Memories of my childhood rush through
my mind as l walked to my car; with my head still looking to the clouds.
''What would she tell me to do right now?'' l pondered />
''Mom? Are you up there, Mom? Well if you can hear me l really
need you to me help right now! l think l can help these poor women, but
the truth is I am scared. l do not know what to do, l need you Mom, l need
you more than ever right now.''
l lowered my head and continued
walking to my car. The windshield wipers moved left to right in attempt to
clear the now torrential rain. On the car ride home all l could think about
was my mother. She had been my world from the age of seven, when my father
died, till the day of her death. My mother had died from a doctor is
misdiagnose. The Doctors kept telling her she suffered from the Flu, but
my mother knew she was very sick, and it was not the Flu that caused her
to become fatigued and receive rashes.
7
She had
AIDS. My mother was a nurse. When she was pricked by a dirty needle she
knew it would only be time before she started getting sick. My mother died
two years ago, when l was twenty one . Thinking about my mother made me
tune out all my surroundings.
The hour ride home, seemed like
only fifteen minutes. There were no parking spots on the street. That
meant l had to park in the garage, on the side of the apartment building.
The garage was dark and humid. A sinister feeling gathered in the steamy
air. Footsteps echoed as l walked to the Exit door. My heart began to beat
rapidly when l discovered the echoed footsteps were not mine. l glanced
over my shoulder and found no one pacing behind me. l turned the corner in
front of a Honda and looked into the round mirror that was mounted onto the
wall above me. In the mirror l spotted a man clad in black, crawl behind
the Honda.
''Who is there?'' l shouted demanding an answer,
but received none. ''l said who is there? Come out l know your behind
there.''
My heart was in my throat once again. l weaved through
the cars, hoping the man would not follow my demands. Footsteps echoed in
the garage again. In fear, l dropped to the ground and pulled myself under
a large SUV.
''Who is hiding now?'' a man shouted, breaking the
silence.
l kept my head low to the ground, watching the floor
to see when his
8
feet appeared in front of me. l
hid, silent, for what seemed forever.
''l know your in here.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.'' There was a brief pause. ''Oh
Sherry Dear, why do not you be a good little girl and come and play with
YOUR INFECTOR!''
A pair of Nikes appeared in front of the SUV
and it felt as if my heart had stopped beating. l held my breathe; trying
not to make a sound. l watched as the Nikes walked by my hiding spot. Hot
air was released in relief. My body laid still, in fear he would come
back. His sneakers were nowhere in sight, but l heard the heavy footsteps,
pounding on the concrete.
My ankle ached, l looked over my
shoulder straight into a set of evil eyes. My skin scraped again the
cement, as l was being pulled.
''Please, stop!'' l pleaded.
''Let me go!''
My foot slammed into the side of his face. The
evil man let go of my ankle and held his face as he knelt on the ground. l
crawled out from under the car, and began to run away, in fear for my life.
''Who are you?'' l sobbed.
''Who am I? You mean you
have not heard of me?
l did not answer the mystery man. />
''Sherry, It is me Tristan.''
l hid behind a pile of
boxes next to the elevator. l closed my eyes,
9
/>hoping when l opened them, l would awaken from a dream; This never
happened. He was close, his scent lingered after he walked by the boxes.
He did not make a sound, which made it harder to tell where he stood. />
''Boo.'' Tristan whispered as he crashed the boxes.
He
pulled me away from the wall and did what he pleased.
''Stop
please.''
l laid there on the cement numb. Not crying and
barely breathing. Rolling to my side l attempted to pick myself up. My
body was weak, and l fell to the ground. My second try was a success. l
walked slowly to the exit door being cautious with every move. As l exited
the garage, my eyes grew wet. l collapsed in the middle of sidewalk sobbing
uncontrollably.
''Sherry Williams. Sherry, can you hear
me?''
l heard a man mumbling but l could not make out the
words. Slowly, l opened my eyes and looked around. l laid on a chilled
slab in a plain white room. No windows, and no doors.
A puff
of smoke exited my lips as l spoke softly. ''Hello.'' l whispered .
''Where am I? What happened?''
l sat up, and twisted my body
to hang my legs over the side of the stainless steal slab. A chill shot up
my spine as my bare feet touched the tiled floor. l wrapped my arms in
front of me, and my lips quivered.
whos Dostoevsky?
people say
l dont write my age.. is that good or bad? and do u honestly think that im
good enough to one day be published?
people say l dont write my age..
is that good or bad? and do u honestly think that im good enough to one
day be published?
Hell Hound
,
Thursday, 5th of August 2010 07:27:39 AM
More more more more ! Need I say more ? Hell Hound Registered User Joined: Monday, 31st of May 2010, 15:52:34 Posts: 1419 Viewed 7363 times
Ace
,
Friday, 6th of August 2010 08:44:11 AM
Wow, good job. You certainly caught my attention! Ace Registered User Joined: Monday, 3rd of May 2010, 01:31:23 Posts: 829 Viewed 10394 times
Prince Charmin
,
Saturday, 7th of August 2010 03:07:05 AM
Hmm... Personally not the kind of story I'd take off the shelf. Prince Charmin Sorry. Not that it is bad, but. Registered User Joined: Friday, 14th of May 2010, 06:23:25 Posts: 1879 Viewed 5923 times
pooky wonky
,
Sunday, 8th of August 2010 03:22:55 AM
WOW....Amazing story!!!!!!! For a second I thought you were a pooky wonky professional story writer or an author. Wow.. I dont have words to Registered User describe your story. I wish I knew what would happen next. Joined: Tuesday, 4th of May 2010, 09:01:56 Posts: 1871 Viewed 15941 times
momoko~
,
Monday, 9th of August 2010 10:39:35 AM
Holy good! That was really crap! I mean Holy crap! That was momoko~ really good! Registered User Joined: Friday, 4th of June 2010, 00:10:39 Posts: 1215 Viewed 1965 times
Sunshine
,
Tuesday, 10th of August 2010 09:44:13 PM
This is really good. Make sure to finish it up, & send me a Sunshine copy. Excellent work! I am not a fan of reading. but once you start, its Registered User like ur hooked, & can not stop. Joined: Saturday, 8th of May 2010, 10:58:28 Posts: 691 Fyodor Dostoevsky was a writer of the 18th century I believe. point is, he Viewed 1372 times was a man who would have greatly enjoyed ur story because of the context.
One of his great works was ''The notes from Underground''. If you every
have the chance, read it. Its very interesting. it might even give you
that boost to finish up ur own work.
Once again, great job, & please do send me a copy.
beccaboo
,
Wednesday, 11th of August 2010 07:57:43 PM
When your 18 I think you should get it published. Also the beccaboo story needs finishing off as you said it is a unfinished storey. Registered User Joined: Saturday, 24th of April 2010, 03:34:57 Posts: 1974 Viewed 8613 times
honeybean
,
Thursday, 12th of August 2010 11:46:47 AM
Breathtaking.. honeybean Dostoevsky would be proud of you. Registered User add me to my messenger Joined: Monday, 31st of May 2010, 16:23:20 a.j.foucault[at]hotmail.com Posts: 857 Viewed 13107 times
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