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I Am

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fiction, young adult, drama
1st
Draft

Published on:

July 8, 4:33am

Word Count:

989

Work Description

It's a little confusing. Even to me.

I was up late one night and wrote it without editing except spell and grammar checks.

Everything in it is still being figured out by me.

This work is archived. This work is archived and isn't accepting critiques or comments.  Why?
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     I slammed the front door behind me and strode up the stairs. Tossing my bag after entering my room I walked into the bathroom, looking forward to splashing some cold water on my face after a long day. High school is ridiculous. I get so tired of everything and everyone there. If you don’t look perfect you might as well not even go. High school isn’t about getting good grades; it’s about learning to deal with people you hate so you don’t snap at work in ten years and kill everyone. I cast a glance at the mirror after shutting the door behind me. I was okay enough by my standards….high school’s however……

     I threw a hand across my mouth, stifling a piercing shriek. Chest heaving, I stared at the floor length mirror hanging from the back of my bathroom door. I screwed my eyes shut, two hands now firmly placed against my lips, praying deep within my soul to whatever God, Goddess, Spirit or Essence there was that when I opened them again, I would only see my reflection. I popped them open and screamed loud and full, my hands now gripping the countertop in fear. I saw not the girl I was accustomed to seeing whenever passing by a tinted car window, shallow puddle or even the shadowy glass from the vending machines at school; but one that was at least thirty years older and hideously disfigured by hundreds of stitches running all across her body. A revolting suture ran over her face, covering one eye in a meandering path. Another formed a giant sickening T on her chest, the thread tied in ugly knots. Slashes were mended by black railroads on her face, arms, legs, stomach; they parted her hair at odd angles and left tufts pointing everywhere.

     “W-who are you?” I finally choked out.

     One scar ripped open under her nose for her to speak. “I am compromises made.” She replied sternly, holding sewn up arms for me to see, her fingers and wrists stitched on. “I am decisions made easy. I am things left half done.” Her one eye bored into me. “I am a lover settled for. I am a career path made based on the wants of others. I am the future chosen by what is best for everyone else, instead of me.” Suddenly her image faded and I let out a gasping breath, falling to the floor. Movement caught my eye, and I whimpered, slowly turning back to the mirror to see what fresh horror was there.

     “Oh God…” I whispered. A little girl stood there, one that was a copied image of me at age six, if you ignored the bruises coating her body in various forms of healing that is. What wasn’t purple, black or yellow was made red by cuts still oozing fresh blood. Other slashes were half scabs, half congealed blood that ripped when she moved the tiniest bit. She raised sticky maroon speckled hands to wipe bloody tears from her swollen eyes. Her sundress was ripped and torn in a dozen places, barely hanging on by a single strap.

     “I am an innocence lost.” She said quietly speaking from both the cut in her throat and her lips. She stared at the ground, occasionally a drop of crimson falling from beneath her lashes. “I am a childhood cast aside by experiences I am not yet old enough to handle. I am the result of anger, revenge and hate.” I let out a strangled sob. She turned her ruby streaked face to look at me. “I am a past that I will run from for the rest of my life. I am the future destroyed by trying to forget.” She too, faded, yet I did not release my breath or tear my eyes away for surely a new image would appear.

     This time a girl only a few years older than me appeared. She was cracked as though someone had thrown a rock at her and she was so tightly wound that she shattered. Shards were missing from her body. They were replaced by empty blackness and she was frail, so frail with her eyes so hollow and her mouth so mournful. Her ribs poked from her stomach, and her hip bones jutted from her sides. “I am a spirit broken. I am a self-esteem destroyed. I am what happens when I listen to others more than myself.” Her

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Discussion

 

Wow that story has a very unexpected power to it...a sort of charles dickens meets tales from the crypt feeling pervades it...which is something I have not read before, so kudoes!

Some ideas on improvement however:

1) the grotesque images are waaaaay over the top and described in ridiculous detail...which is totally fine by me, but some of the horror should probably be best left unsaid. I would recomend the writings of mr: H.P. Lovecraft for ideas on how to leave the right amount of detail up to the imagination of the reader. Terror starts with the mind after all.

2) sorry to keep harping on the grotesque images but: WHY are the so grotesque? I have a vague idea that the ghost versions are manifesting physically what they are speaking about emotionally...and if this is the case then perhaps the wounds should be manifested in more appropriate fashions? Perhaps the little girl version could be dolled up as a child-prostitute or some-such, rather then simply echoing the older version. just a thought.

3) The overal theme very much reminds me of a christmas carol...except that the ghosts are back to front in terms of friendlyness. However at the end it dosent appear that our protagonist has really LEARNED from what the spirits have shown her...instead she has the much more belivabale reaction of total shock and a fit of sobbing...which I actually kinda like, but I feel that with spirits so obviously MORAL as these are...maybe she should do something to heed their advice just a little...

4) You dont really show her before the incident in the bathroom...and here is where you can really pull off a good story. Give us some details about the girls life (nothing grand just a few paragraphs of other scenes would do,) and most importantly: try to show the reader how she HAS fallen in the ways the ghosts are admonishing her for. Show us that she is a deeply flawed character before exposing her flaws and terrifying her into goodness. Because as it stands: the girl basically just walks into a bathroom and gets pyschicly mugged for no reason...and while there is a certain fun shock to it...it would probably do better as a complete story.

Overall I have to say that I really enjoyed the tale! I am going to watch out for more of your work because you have shown a distinctly impressive imagination.

Good job and KEEP WRITING!

-P.F. White

Hello ... as you yourself said in the introduction: you wrote it quickly and only spell checked ... not much more.

The story itself works, the images work, the idea works. What needs re-thinking, I think, is the beginning. We know that your protagonist 'hates' her school and all who dwell in it and I can take the rest of the story from there. However, in order for the rest to make real sense, I believe it would all come together when the protagonist were shown to be committing most of the 'sins' reflected by the mirror images.

I'd now re-read carefully for grammer, tone, words used etc.

This story has tremendous potential. I enjoyed reading it. Keep at it.

A critique for 'I Am, by Diabetic Coma

 

Overall I like your unique style and story. And I believe you have great potential as a writer.

However, I find the story lacking in any movement forward, the reader is stuck in a redundancy of facial and body injuries and scars. I believe you missed a great opportunity for backstory with the six year-old's ghost appearance. You might have given more depth to the protagonist in some way and describe the causes of the little girl's injuries, the emotions she felt at the time, the pain she suffered, and her difficult recovery.

Since there does not appear to be much in the way of a plot, you might want to develop this into a one person monologue play. It may work better that way.

Your pacing is slow and balanced; there is no sense of suspense or relief, thus it drags along like someone trying on clothes and not liking anything she chooses.

The only descriptions come from the mirror reflections. What are her surroundings like; the room, the house, the school, her family? The vocabulary is limited and could be expanded to include her surroundings.

Your point of view is fine. Another character, an antagonist--perhaps someone who taunted the protagonist about her disfigurement--could have lent a lot to the story, in terms of plot, description and emotional appeal. the antagonist may allow the girl to reveal strong emotions, and the reader might feel more of a connection to the girl telling the story. You would also improve things by showing a little more telling.

I was not bogged down by grammatical or spelling errors.

Again, I believe you are on your way to developing your own style, your own voice, and I look forward to reading more of your writing in the future.

Thank you for sharing this little study of an injured---physically and emotionally--young girl with an unfortunate situation to have to live with.

 

Hello again ... just read the latest critique and wanted to make sure I was on the right track: the way I read the story is that those images are bruised, battered and scarred from the wrong choices made, and what the wrong choices are is made clear in your story.

By all means tone down the injuries a bit so that people won't think you're writing a horror story and so you don't need to write a book about the wrong choices they made, but from what I understand the injuries are symbolic and the answers 'are written in the wind' as much as the  images are just a reminder of where we can go wrong.

Perhaps you could show your protagonist in more detail, giving her an important choice to make and then  letting her see the 'girl she was' and the two women either of which she could become - depending on her decision? Her own higher self helping her to shape the outcome? Maybe that would make matters clear.

It is a great story!

 

Wow this story is fantastic! I am speechless right now. I feel like you have captured my biggest problems and put them in this story. I feel like I live to make others happy, and i enjoy it. The sad thing is I don't really know what to do for myself any more. I'm at the point in my life where I need to start deciding these things, but I'm still in the state of mind of pleasing everyone else. Thank you for posting this, it's wonderful! I don't really have many critiques, but here are a few.

 

 

     I slammed the front door behind me and strode up the stairs. Tossing my bag after entering my room I walked into the bathroom, looking forward to splashing some cold water on my face after a long day. High school is ridiculous. I get so tired of everything and everyone there. If you don’t look perfect you might as well not even go. High school isn’t about getting good grades; it’s about learning to deal with people you hate so you don’t snap at work in ten years and kill everyone. I cast a glance at the mirror after shutting the door behind me. I was okay enough by my standards….high school’s however……

This first paragraph seems kind of out of place to me.  I do understand where you are trying to go with it. I think high school sets the stage for the rest of your life. You start to realize who you are as a person and how you are going to act.  You can accept if you are going to listen to others more than your self and much more.  You just talk about coming home from school and how exhausting it is, but then you never mention it again. I love the part about it not being about getting good grades, that is so true!

 

  “Oh God…” I whispered. A little girl stood there, one that was a copied image of me at age six, if you ignored the bruises coating her body in various forms of healing that is. What wasn’t purple, black or yellow was made red by cuts still oozing fresh blood. Other slashes were half scabs, half congealed blood that ripped when she moved the tiniest bit. She raised sticky maroon speckled hands to wipe bloody tears from her swollen eyes. Her sundress was ripped and torn in a dozen places, barely hanging on by a single strap.

Your imagery is amazing here! You wouldn't believe the picture I have of this girl in my head.  It is indeed very grotesque which some people may have a problem with. I don't think its unnecessarily grotesque though. I think maybe thats how we look on the inside? I don't know, I wouldn't change it though. It adds a lot to the story.

 

I really liked how you ended the story. You left the reader with a sense of hope. We saw the horrible things that  could happen, but all is not lost. There is a beautiful person out there that we could all be, we just have to learn how to be that person. Thanks again for this great story!

 

 

 Well, I have read the story and the critiques so far. Loved the Dickens meets the crypt comparison.

I'm not educated in literature so I can only speak to my opinion of the spirit and readability of it. I really liked it.

I do think the story could use more "story" to counterbalance the intense immagery. (Forgive my spelling. I live and die by the spellcheck!) I believe Ms Ashenbrenner called it backstory. For me, that intensity needs some explanation.

I took the first image to be the inevitable result of the events that brought about the two subsequent images never being corrected and healed, hense the open wounds barely held together by unsteady sutures of denial. That may be an angle to explore in the backstory, if I'm using that correctly.

However even with that expansion, you made a mean ol 54 year old man tear up at the final image of hope. It was like a reprieve of hope lost. is it ever too late?

One other suggestion, though it's just the way I would have said it if I were playing the part, "she was frail, so frail with her eyes so hollow" I would put pauses after the repeated "so frail" to convey thoughtfullness of the situation, and a pause almost like a sigh before continuing "with her eyes so hollow".

Well, that's my two cents, if it's worth even that. I really did enjoy it. And you may be confused about why you it came to you. But I'm not!

 

 

 I think this is a great foundation piece.  By itself it is a little flat, but I felt that there were some very strong elements to the piece that would be great for a larger story.  Your imagergy is amazing; it is one of the strongest parts of this piece.  Be careful not to overdo it though. 

I really liked the different elements that you brought out in this story.  I liked how each image was a different representation of herself.  It almost had a feeling of "A Christmas Carol," where I could almost see each of these reflections as filling the roles of the Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future...but with a unique gorey twist.    However, I think that a lot of plot development would need to go into making that complete.

Overall I really enjoyed reading this piece.  There wasn't much of a plot all of it's own, but it still had some unique characterisitcs that were entertaining.

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