Young Writers Society

Just a taster from something which I might continue:

“You are special. You are unique. You have been chosen. Your country needs you. You wanted to be chosen; being chosen is the best thing in the world. You have been chosen becuase you are special. You are unique. You have been chosen. Your contry needs you…”

The words seemed to drone on and on forever, the same, monotonous voice repeated over a thousand times before I was aware of it. And even then, it was only a faint recognition every time a word was spoken.

It was like I didn’t even understand what the words were saying, like I was just hearing them, listening to someone from another language repeat the same, unimportant phrase again and again. The words started to blur together, to become indifferent. I think I might have tried to ignore them, but I already was ignoring them. I wasn’t listening, but there it was – just the same words, melting into the background like a rising plume of steam. Always there, but never noticed.

***

I woke with a gradual sense of awareness. It was like I was always awake, but never realised it. My senses started to switch on one by one, but they were all on from the beginning. They were all off until the end. I could not honestly say how long I was lying there, but it could have ranged from a whole night to a few minutes; maybe even a few seconds.

As my conscious started to warm up, the words were getting fainter. I tried to hold onto them, to grasp at them like a life line, but by the time I realised what I was doing, I couldn’t hear the words anymore. They were gone, like they were never even there.

I soon gave up even attempting to remember what I was doing, I soon forgot that I ever was attempting. I was just hanging there, in the void, somewhere between asleep and awake, but never thinking about it. Just existing.

If only.

There was a warm blanket of content enveloping me, suffocating me of all my bad thoughts. It was to this subtle warmth that I woke up, and I snuggled deeper into my burrow of sheets and duvets, trying to keep a hold of that nice, soft feeling. I lay there for as long as I could, yearning to stop time and stay suspended in that moment forever, hanging in the balance of healthy and happy; a medium that is seldom ever achieved.

But all good things have to end some time, and as soon as I built up the will to open my eyes, I was crushed by the world. Everything came flooding into my mind at once, swamping me with feelings and emotions, questions and thoughts. The torrent of awareness washed over any happy thoughts and drowned my blanket of contempt. It was like watching the Titanic sink, slowly being covered wave after wave of reality. Each individual bubble of air striking the surface meant another moment lost, until it was all gone, submerged and crushed by the weight of everything, tumbling further and further down into the depths of my subconscious.


Oh, and I don't care wheter you like it or not, but you should all post nasty comments about my procrastination. You see, I should be writing my NaNo right now, but instead I have been attacked by those nasty plot bunnies from another story, and I had to write it down to fend them off... you other NaNo-ers out there might know what I'm talking about. It's kinda weird though, how new ideas for other novels strike just when you're getting through one. I'm writing my NaNo (half way through) but I'm also writing another book... and I suppose a thrid now. Problem is, I don't know which one to continue. Anyways, that's just me rambling on and PROCRASTINATING again! Bad Asxz! Bad Asxz! Go and do your writing now!

(Please help... I think I'm going crazy!)

This was a very interesting story. I would love to read more about it because so far I have no idea how this is going to play out or what's really happening with the whole chosen thing but its very interesting. I loved the way you describe everything it gave me a perfect picture ideal for any writer. I also agree with you. I have that same problem. I have been writing for two years now and I just started doing that recently. Writing one story then going to the next to the next then you end up trying to choose which one you should keep writing but I honestly can't help it. I mean things pop into my head everyday and I have to write them down. If they're really good I write more if not then I kind of do what you just did with this piece and see if I can finish it later. Sorry for the long critique but the story was very interesting and I'll definitely check out some of your other stories.

-Michelle.

My main problem was with the phrasing of your descriptions. I caught at least 3 or 4 that began with "it was like" or some variation of that. To me, this is a boring way to describe something.

Also, some of it doesn't really make sense. I get that you were probably trying to be vague and mysterious, but you overdid it.

And then I was awake. Somehow, without me ever knowing it, I was no longer asleep. But it didn’t happen gradually, or even suddenly. It just happened. I was asleep, and then I was awake; simple as that.

The whole paragraph says nothing. It didn't happen gradually or suddenly, but it just happened? That sounds sudden to me, maybe don't use the word "just" if you want to avoid implication of suddenness. The last sentence is also fairly pointless.

Maybe I need more, but as of now you're laying it on too thick, if you know what I mean. There was too much self-contradiction, employed intentionally to enhance the mood, and it got really old.