Young Writers Society

Wendy carefully closed the cabinet and walked to her room, leaving the bathroom as immaculate as it had been when she entered it. She stumbled towards her bedroom, barely conscious of her surroundings as all of her thoughts were centered upon the treasured items that she was now clutching to her chest.
Finally she reached her room and as soon as she was close enough, let herself topple onto the bed. She squirmed, readjusting her position so that she was now lying flat on her back, the pills still cradled against her breast. She then reached for her bedside table and grappled for the bottle of vodka that she had been sipping at for most of the evening. Once she had secured it in her other hand, she swallowed the first of the pills, quickly gulping down the alcohol.
For a moment, the vodka tasted so foul as it burned its way down her throat that she thought she might spit it all back up. And then a quiet voice at the back of her mind spoke up, informing her that it was unwise to mix alcohol and pills - that these actions might have dire consequences. She let out a low manic laugh that got higher and higher as it filled her body. Soon she was laughing so hard that tears were coming out of her eyes and she could hardly breathe.
“But that’s the whole point” she spat out between laughs.
She took another couple of pills and then turned to stare at a picture on her bedside table. As she stared at it, her noisy, violent laughter turned to silent tears. She reached out an unsteady hand to touch the photo. Just to touch it.
The photo was of a young boy with messy blonde hair, that had always been messy as he had never really been bothered enough to spend more than a couple of minutes on it. These beautiful locks had fallen out just a few months after this photo had been taken. Wendy felt more tears start to well up just behind her eyelids, threatening to spill. She instinctively shut her eyes and forced the tears back. This was the part that hurt more than anything else. Remembering. Remembering the good times, the bad times and the awful times at the end.
It was like some sweet torture, taunting her with dreams of smiles that she’d never see again, words that she’d never hear him speak. It was like someone giving you half of a cupcake and then taking the rest of it away so that all you could do is remember how good the first half was, and wondering whether the other half would have been sweet, or bitter.
Having pushed back the weight of her grief for a time at least, Wendy studied the picture again. Even though no one knew that he was ill at this point, she could see that he was thinner than he had been and that his face was pale and pinched-looking. His eyes were the same though, she thought. They still glittered at you like they were sapphires, or like they were laughing at some private joke, but would still love for you to join in.
She forced some more pills down her throat and then returned to staring at the photo. Thinking back to when this had first started, to when he’s just been an ordinary boy and she’s been a normal girl, she remembered that it was those eyes that she had fallen in love with first. They were so different, so special. They’d always seemed to see right through her. She cringed slightly as she imagined what his reaction would be like if he knew what she was doing right now. He’d always despised acts like these. Said they were weak and cowardly. Oh well, she mused, I’ll have eternity to make it up to him.
Her vision started to be marred by a red haze and she felt herself almost sink into the bed, as if she’d just come home from a long, long night out, which she supposed theoretically she had. She’d had a very long, exhausting day, that just wasn’t fun anymore, and now she was going to go home. To him.
For a few more seconds she fought against the desire to pass out. She stretched out a hand that she could no longer really feel and clutched at the photo. She almost knocked it off the table in her daze, but managed to pull it onto the bed. Losing the last of her strength, she brought the photo to her chest and clutched it there.


Wendy opened her eyes with surprise. She hadn’t really expected to open them again at all, so that in itself was quite a shock. But nothing could be as surprising as her surroundings. Everything was white, as far as the eyes could see. And strangely, there were no other colours in the room, no grey shadows, no blue of sky, no green of earth - Just blinding white.
She sat up slightly. She looked again at her surroundings and gave an involuntary shiver, despite being quite comfortably warm. There was just something cold in the place’s atmosphere that chilled her to the bone. She got to her feet and started to walk forwards. She had no idea where she was going, but, she rationalised, it had to be better than this clinical place. She continued to walk, but although she could feel herself moving across the floor, nothing changed. Everywhere stayed the same, the same white light. The same stillness.
She felt her heart start to beat faster, and her breathing became quicker as if she’d been running for miles on the treadmill rather than just a few metres. She stopped running and sat down, concentrating on her breathing in order to calm herself.
She curled up in a ball and counted in her head:
“In, two, three,”
“Out, two, three”.
She could tell though that her breathing exercise was not working as there was a slight tremor of fear in her voice that seemed to grow with every breath. She looked around again, as if certain this time that she would see something different. But it was always the same.
At that moment, she realised at that moment what was so creepy about this place. There was no sound. No movement. Not even the slightest gust of wind. She felt a wave of terror crash over her, but just as she had with the earlier wave of grief, she pushed it away from her.
“Hello?” She called out timidly, hearing her voice echo back to her. Another wave of terror hit her and this one she couldn’t quite resist. She felt her body start to tremble. She sat down and glared at her hand, willing it to stop shaking. She jumped as for the first time in this place she had heard a sound. The unmistakable sound of footprints.
She turned around sharply and found herself face to face with…him. He smiled at her ruefully as if he was both happy and sad to see her at the same time. He said nothing though, just stood there, staring at her with blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires.



Thank you to everyone who left comments on the previous ones and i'm sorry about the bad grammer. Please tell me what you think and i'll hopefully be adding another chapter to this story soon.

I like this one. There were definitely less clashes of point of view. There were a few things I think could still stand to be changed.

Do not be afraid of semicolons. You use a lot of sentence fragements that can be turned into proper grammar with commas or semicolons and have the general feel/ tone remain intact.

You still had that 2nd person view:

It was like someone giving you half of a cupcake and then taking the rest of it away so that all you could do is remember how good the first half was, and wondering whether the other half would have been sweet, or bitter.

There is no real need for that "you" to be there. It can be generalized so that, perhaps, you are using a metaphor that indirectly reaches out to the reader. I think that maybe it would be better if you switched to a different analogy all together; something that has a more distinct balance in nature. You could, should you feel so disposed, make reference to the calories or helath consequences to eating a cupcake, but eating one anyway just because it tastes so good. By splitting the "cupcake" into halves, you suggest that there was a hidden part to the relationship that was largely ignored or forgotten. But I know that sometimes there are those certain lines that ring true and have that certain feel, so you could simply change the 2nd person into a vague third person.

I also think, and this is just my opinion, that maybe you could describe Wendy's experience in the afterlife a little more vaguely. I think that because she is dead, it gives you a little more freedom to let the reader make some connections of their own, and for the most part, you do a great job of that. However, I think that you should also eliminate the excess emotions going through Wendy's head, and maybe just pulling out of her head and going to a 3rd person omniscient view instead. It would add an eerie-er tone to what lies beyond this mortal coil.

Indent for new speaking sections, or at least skip a line.

In the paragraph before your large line divide, you start out with a confusing clash of tenses. i'd recommend fixing that.

Other than those things, I think it's an extraordinary piece of work. Not many people are willing to describe what they think lies after this life. I think that it has a lot of potential, which is why this list is longer than the other. So, just kind of think all of this over and I'm going to be looking for more of your work. You should feature some of your work on your profile that way people will be more able to read your great writing style.