Mental Illness

Here's a very short story I wrote in July 2010 in one of the writing games I used to play with my best friend Anna.
The rules were we both had to write about a mental illness (hence the unimaginative title) and we had a time limit, I've forgotten how long the time limit was though :)
Hope you like it
:)

I looked up at the sky and touched a plane, plucking it from the smoothie pink sky and pretending to munch on it.

I smiled to myself as some people my age stared bug-eyed, too scared to even attempt to bully me.

It was nice.

It was a change.

I used to get bullied a lot.

It’s because I’m different, because I see things differently, the better way.

The fun way.

They used to call me names and push me about.

I used to cry.

But then one day, one day it all stopped.

And people have been avoiding me ever since.

People say I didn’t mean it.

My councillors.

The doctors.

My mum.

Everyone.

They all lie.

I meant it.

Every second.

Not many people deserved what I gave Launa Davids.

But oh my she did.

She was hurting me first.

She was poking me, making me feel uncomfortable.

Putting me out of my comfort zone.

A dangerous place to be.

A very dangerous place to be.

I thought I did well.

I held it all in until it was too much.

She got what was coming to her.

No praise came.

It confused me.  It still does.

I’m glad people avoid me now.

I like being on my own.

It’s so much more company.

I like things just the way I see them.

I hate being told to look at the world through blurry eyes.

Their eyes.

It’s so dull.

Life seems pointless when I look from their perspective.

So I stopped looking.

Taking Flight

This is a story that I wrote in January last year which came out in one big go without planning or any of that. 

It's called Taking Flight.

I hope you like it.

Samantha pressed the pillow more tightly over her ears.

The shouting hadn’t subsided for hours and she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think because of it.

How could someone argue for that long? She didn’t think she’d even be able to. But then again she was very passive. Her mother, however, was not.

Samantha thought that after her parents had split up everything could only get better. It wasn’t possible for things to get any worse. Oh how wrong she’d been.

Hot tears streamed from Samantha’s already red and puffy eyes and it was all she could do to stop herself from sobbing, crying out, screaming.

The world wasn’t fair. Samantha knew that better than most people. Life and her didn’t seem to get on. It played on her every weakness.

She caressed the softness of her quilt and curled up into an even tighter ball, hiding her head from view.

She had been promised, promised, that her life wasn’t going to be like this anymore. Promised it would get better.

And of course, Samantha had, stupidly, believed it. It couldn’t get any worse right? Her mother had said it, so it must have been true.

Those words meant nothing now.

A passionate scream of fury blasted through the ceiling and pierced Samantha’s ears. She hugged the pillow round her head more firmly.

Would it ever relent?

It would, Samantha knew that, but for how long?

Months this time, leaving Samantha feeling relieved and maybe, dare she even think it, happy?

Or weeks? Something stupid tipping them off?

Or was it one of those arguments that returned every day, hungry for more?

Samantha hoped for the first. She needed a break from misery.

A bird called from outside, alerting Samantha to the time.

It was only one o’clock.

Samantha slipped out of her bed and gazed at the bird through her pristine glass window. It looked so peaceful, free.

It looked at her for a second with its black beady eyes before spreading its wings and taking flight.

Taking flight . . .

Her mother roared from downstairs and she knew it was only a matter of time before she stomped off to sulk or hide. Sometimes those were the worst parts.

Samantha was always scared to leave the safety of her bedroom, but the bird, it’d left. So why couldn’t she?

Her heart pounded in her chest as she tied up her long blonde hair and grabbed her jacket.

Her shoes slipped on easily and her phone was found without thought.

She tiptoed downstairs, threatening to collapse from the weight that was about to be lifted off her shoulders.

The front door welcomed her departure and didn’t make a sound.

Her mother’s final words rang in Samantha’s ears as she shut her door and began to run.

Intuition

This is one of the creative writing games I played with my friend Anna in July, although I cannot remember what the instructions were.

All I can remember is that we gave ourselves a time limit in which to finish in and I called my piece Intuition . . .

I whip my head round and see nothing.

Strange.

I could’ve sworn I’d seen something from the corner of my eye. And I was usually right about these things. That’s what disturbs me.

I’d always had a kind of . . . acute intuition.

I always know when bad things are about to happen.

And I don’t mean a few flukes. I mean I always know.

How else could I tell you that a woman in Paris is being screamed at by her husband in a language I have very little knowledge of and is about to be hit so hard she collapses onto the floor, blood pooling around her body?

She’ll never know her husband is sorry and will regret it for the rest of his life.

Because the doctors don’t save her.

He doesn’t see the car coming that day when he’s saying his goodbye and suddenly he’s gone too.

And this happens because I see it.

I always see it.

I see all of these things.

All day.

All night.

With never even a second of silence.

I don’t see the good things, only the bad.

And what makes it worse is that I can’t do anything to save them, any of them.

A man in China is about to have a heart attack.

I decide to walk around the corner to put my ever boiling mind to rest, for my own safety this time, and feel better once I’ve made sure I’m right.

A car is about to crash on one of the busiest roads in New York. There are no survivors.

I sigh and begin to playing with a strand of my waist-length hair as I walk towards home, trying to listen to only my feet.

Tap, tap, tap.

A woman is about to get mugged.

Tap, tap, tap.

A young boy is being bullied to the point of suicide.

Tap, tap, tap.

A young girl is being forced to do something she doesn’t want to do.

Tap, tap, tap.

A girl forgets her keys.

I stop.

I rummage through my bag.

“Oh.” I say aloud to myself. That one was me.

A murderer lurks the streets of his victim’s town.

I drop my phone so it clatters to the floor.

A psychiatric maniac wanted not only for murder but for genocide.

I bang on the door, pummelling my fist against the hard wood reinforced with plastic.

“Harley!” I screamed to my little sister. “Harley!”

Please, please, please.

He creeps up to the window and expertly slips in.

“Harley! Harley! Harley!”

He silences another voice. Another voice with that name. They must all be silenced.

“Please!” I screamed, bruising my hand so hard I could hardly bear it.

He moves on to the pretty looking white cottage.

I scream at the top of my voice. “Harley!”

But it’s too late.

He easily, so easily, gets in here too, ignoring the cries of the girl outside.

He was going to get her.

He walks into her room and gives her a frightening smile.

My sister.

I don’t think for once.

I slam myself into our French windows and slice open my forearm and the top of my leg so my whole body is burning.

He prowls towards her, her face that colour of white he lives for.

I let out the worst sound imaginable but force myself up the stairs.

Another Harley, his tenth one.

I throw myself into her room and . . .

And something miraculous happens.

Something impossible.

The vision changes.

He doesn’t kill her.

I see it in the same second that I act.

I jump towards him, using the remaining of my dwindling fire that is my energy and spirit, having lost a lot more blood than I would’ve thought possible in such a short space of time.

And he sees this other threat and he . . .

Raises his knife at me . . .

And then he cuts into her flesh –

I see myself dead.

And my visions stop.

Death

Here's a short story I wrote early Febuary last year.  Short being an important word for this one!
The title could be a lot better I admit, but it was only so the document had a name :)
It feels like such a long time ago that I wrote it, but I still like it (otherwise I wouldn't post it!)
It's simply called Death.
I hope you enjoy it.

Look both ways before crossing the street.

I turned my head from left to right, taking note of the dangerous corner before crossing. It’d been a good day, cold - snow was falling softly on the icy ground, but good. I hugged my French coursework closer as I stepped out into the road.

Maybe he hadn’t looked, maybe he hadn’t seen me, maybe the fault was mine. I’ll never know.

A car came speeding around the corner screeching as it attempted to brake in time. I only had time to gasp and stare at the headlights before the bonnet connected with the top of my legs. It hit me at such an angle that I flew over the top of the car and landed on the bonnet of the car behind. My head crashed into the windscreen and sent shards of glass into the air to dance with the snow.

I stared up blankly at the sky, watching the gentle snow drift towards me. Each snowflake felt like a red-hot poker as it touched my face. I heard screaming and shouting but I made no noise. I didn’t shriek, I didn’t cry, I didn’t yell, I just laid there staring up at the beauty that was the sky.

My blood seeped around me, covering my clothes and hair, turning the pure white snow a deathly crimson. The pain caught up with me as I took a breath. It was indescribable, unendurable, impossible.

I shut my eyes to get away, feel alone. I never saw the snow again. Never saw the sky. Nature and all its splendour lost forever.

 I concentrated on the burning snow until I noticed my favourite song playing in my ears. My I-pod had survived and was playing me a departing tune. I blocked everything out, focussed solely on the music, the angel’s voice singing, music was remarkable. I never heard anything else. No voices, no shouting, it was peaceful.

I never listened to another song, never got to the end.

Never heard my breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart.

My mind blanked, I could no longer hear my song.

For a second there was only pain.

Fear.

Then nothing.

White Roses

Here's a treat seeing as it's Christmas time and everything.
This is one of my personal favourites, possibly because it has a beginning, middle and end, or maybe because I wrote it from the perspective of a boy which I do very rarely.
I wrote it in January, almost a whole year ago now, which I find it difficult to believe.  It's one of my longer ones so hang on in there and give it a chance.
It's called White Roses, and did I already mention I love it? :D
Merry Christmas

I sighed as I lost yet another life on my game. Amy didn’t understand how her being in the room, her breathing, was putting me off.

“Were you even listening?” She asked in an irritating tone. Sometimes I could just kill my little sister. “I said, he gave me a white rose-”

“Amy I’m going to stop you right there.” I paused my game and turned to face her. “To be honest I don’t care, okay?”

Hurt flashed across her eyes before she took charge of herself. “Fine, I’m sure Sarah will listen to me.”

“I’m sure she will,” I muttered under my breath. Sarah was Amy’s best friend and almost as much of a pain as she was.

I returned to my game as soon as the door closed behind her. I was on level twenty-six, a record even for my standard. Just wait until the guys see this, I thought to myself smugly.

“Uh hello, I’m right here.” Jared said waving at me.

“God Jared, do you have to do that? It’s really annoying.”  I couldn’t decide what was more annoying, his ability to float through walls, his mind-reading, or his being able to put thoughts straight into my head.

“Well as soon as I heard you were getting the high score I just had to come and see for myself, you used to suck at this game.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands.”

“Yeah, okay whatever.”

He glided over to me, feet never really touching the floor. I sighed and remembered a time, not too long ago, that this would be my idea of the perfect Saturday. But this week my Saturday was going to be far from perfect.

You see Jared’s dead. That’s right - he died. But the worst part is, he won’t even tell me how it happened, it’s sort of a joke between us, a sick, sadistic joke maybe, but a joke all the same.  His spirit likes to haut our town, he loves to creep out as many people as possible and do all the crazy things he missed out on in life, but mostly he just hovers around in my bedroom watching me play my games. Similarly to how he used to in life. No wait, scratch that, exactly like he used to in life.

“So,” Jared began. “You going to the big dance tonight?”

“No,” I groaned. We’d had this conversation a million times already. “I’m going to stay here.”

“Oh why? Come on, it’ll be fun! All our friends’ll be there, including wonderful me.”

“Oh great,” I muttered sarcastically.

“They’ll be girls.”

“Oh yeah I can just picture it now. ‘Hi I’m Lee and I speak to my dead best friend almost every day’.”

Jared laughed. “Well you won’t pick up any girls like that no you’re right.”

I sighed and looked into his murky eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well . . . I’d really like it - I mean, if you don’t mind . . . could you –”

“God Jared don’t hurt yourself - spit it out.” I laughed.

“Well . . . I saw Tillie earlier.”

“What? Jared no . . . you didn’t? I told you not too. You should have seen her after you died.” I shook my head. “She’s still in a state about it-”

“I know, I know. But she was talking to herself, well, to me really, but she couldn’t see me, she didn’t know I was there.” His expression grew sad and lost. It was one of those few moments in life where I just knew that my friend needed comforting. I put my arm round him, but as a ghost he wasn’t really there, so I got a cold shock as my skin touched the air where Jared’s body should be. “She was asking me what she should wear.” He chuckled. “But apparently no amount of me pointing and shouting could convince her to wear the perfect sky blue one that she’d picked out to wear out to dinner with me before it happened.” He sighed and looked at me. “She told me how much she missed me, and how lonely she was. She wants someone to love her, but she doesn’t want anyone to replace me. She’s confused and scared, worried about what I think. What I think Lee. I tried to tell her, tried to let her know that I still loved her and want her to be happy. But she can’t see me, hear me, anything. But the worse thing is I know she wants to. She wants to hear me and see me. She needs it.”

“What? How unfair, I’m bloody stuck with you whether I like it or not.”

He smiled “Would you do me a favour? For Tillie?”

“Anything mate,” I vowed, somehow knowing.

“Could you take Tillie tonight?”

I took a deep breath and stared at him until I could possibly believe what he’d just asked me to do. I exhaled slowly and nodded. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Thank you Lee.”

*

I knocked on Tillie’s front door, foot tapping nervously on the ground. Jared was standing beside me, a longing in his eyes. His suit was exactly the same as mine; it appeared that you could get your hands on just about anything you wanted as a ghost.

I heard Tillie’s light footsteps rush down the stairs and fling open the front door.

She gasped as she saw me. “Lee?” She shook her head. “What, what, what are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you to the dance.” I smiled. “That is, if you’ll let me.”

Her eyes grew wider at my words and she just nodded. “Would you, uh, like to come in? I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Sure.” Both Jared and I entered her immaculate home. Her parents must be clean freaks. Jared stifled his laughter, forgetting I was the only one who’d hear him. “Where do you want me to put your rose?”

“My what?” She span round and her eyes focused on the white rose in my hands. The one both Jared and Amy had told me to get.

“Oh.” Tears appeared in her eyes and she had to turn away.

I jumped up at Jared’s nod and put my arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“That’s alright,” she sniffed. “It’s just . . .”

“Jared.” I summarized. “Yeah, I know.”

She nodded. “He used to buy me white roses all the time.” Her whispers only just carried to my ears. “I’ll be a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” I smiled. My smile, Jared had said earlier, could warm even a grieving girl’s heart.

“You’re doing fine.” Jared said. “She’s happy you can talk about me, she doesn’t really know how she’s supposed to feel.”

I nodded. “Okay, talking about you, easy.” I said as though making a mental list.

He chuckled.

Both our heads snapped round as we heard the delicate pat of Tillie’s flat shoes on the stairs.

She smiled at me as she emerged, but I couldn’t control the shock on my face.

She was wearing Jared’s dress, the sky blue one. It had straps on her upper arms, leaving her neck clear. It ran from shoulder to floor and showed off a figure I didn’t even know she had.  Her fair blonde hair was tied up in a complex knot behind her head with a few strands falling down the side of her face. She smiled shyly and looked at me through her long dark lashes.

“Wow,” Jared breathed. “Say what I tell you.” He commanded.

Oh Tillie you look beautiful.

“Oh Tillie,” I breathed, no acting needed. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed. “Thanks. Jared always wanted to see me in this dress.”

And I can see why.

He chuckled mentally.

“So you ready then?” She asked, looking uncomfortable.

Tell her I love her.

Tillie noticed my body turn to ice.

“Everything alright?”

Tell her, Lee.

I took a deep breath. “Um, Tillie, this is going to sound insane, but . . .” I took another deep breath. “Jared wants me to tell you how beautiful you look, and just how much he loves you.”

“What?” She whispered, throat thick with tears.

“He misses you, but wants you to find someone to make you happy. That’s the only way he can be happy.” I looked into her eyes, which were sparkling with tears, the same colour as her dress. “And that’s if you are.”

Jared nodded and went to stand next to Tillie. “Thanks Lee.”

You’re welcome. Anything else? I added sarcastically.

He shook his head and stared deeply into Tillie’s eyes.

She seemed to sense his presence and shivered as he tried to sweep the strand of hair from her face.

I walked over to her slowly and did it for him.

“How, how, how do you know what Jared wants?” She sobbed.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I warned you it’s insane. But Jared tells me things, things he needs people to know.”

A new set of tears welled up in her eyes and she threw her arms around my shoulders, she was incredibly warm and soft in my arms. I wasn’t too sure what to think.

“Lee,” Jared said from somewhere beside me. “I have another favour to ask of you.”

I let Tillie burry her head in my shoulder and soak my new suit with tears.

“Look after her . . . please.” He took a shuddery breath and I saw him fade a little. “I think it’s time I should be leaving.”

I nodded, unable to stop the stream of tears escaping from my eyes.

“Love her, like I did. Make her happy.”

“I will.” I promised out loud.

He smiled his famous mischievous grin before fading from my life forever.

*

I sighed and ran my hand over the rough grave stone, wiping some of the moss away.

“Honey.” Tillie placed the white rose into my hands and let me lay it silently over Jared’s grave.

I stood up and admired the old stone. It was strange how every visit made me feel closer to Jared, although I knew that was impossible.

The cold January wind bit at my cheeks and Tillie shivered.

“Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “I don’t think Jared’ll mind. It’s freezing.”

She giggled and wrapped her other hand around my neck.

I softly pressed my lips to hers and imagined what Jared would say if he could see this. But then I stopped myself because somewhere Jared could see this. I smiled at Tillie as we parted, her sky blue eyes shining brightly as always.

I sighed as we walked hand-in-hand from the graveyard.

Not for one minute did I think my promise to Jared would be a life-time one. I chuckled and shook my head. I connected with Tillie in a way that I couldn’t understand, and as I teenage boy, hadn’t known existed, until that fateful Saturday. I could finish her sentences, and her mine. We could laugh together, cry together, about Jared or otherwise. We’d been inseparable since the dance three years ago and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

I still thought about Jared everyday and vowed to keep my promise.

He’d given me my life back.

My games console was where I left it before leaving for the dance with Jared. And it’s been collecting dust ever since.

Theo

This is one of the creative writing games I used to play with my best friend Anna.
We'd start with an idea or a name; in this case it was a name - Theo - and see how our imaginations differed and see which was best.
This is one of my favourites that came out of that game, and as it wasn't a competition of the best title it's simply called Theo.
I wrote it in July this year.
I hope you like it.

So calm, so collected.

You’d never know.

No one ever does.

I ruffle my hair and seat myself on my usual park bench, waiting, waiting.

And then I get up and move.

A strange ritual I’ve come to like.

I twist through the alleys, playing with whatever I shoved in my pocket this time.

I just can’t help it.

I love to steal things.

I love the thrill of getting away with it.

The heart thumping adrenaline pumping pace racing game.

Kleppy they call me round here.

They think I’m stupid. But I know it’s short for kleptomaniac.

And I know that’s what I am.

And I’m not even ashamed.

Why should I be?

It’s just a hobby. Like dancing.

But I dance with the law.

I pass a girl in a short alley and she gets as far away from me as possible.

Now that bothers me.

I would never hurt anyone. I hate seeing people upset or scared or hurt.

I’ve always been a nice person.

I turn the corner and find Kevin.

God I hate that boy.

“Ugh!” He pretended to be disgusted by me. His cronies laughed. “Look who it is! It’s Kleppy!”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of the spoken English language.

Just the finger.

“Oooohh.” They all coursed.

I sighed and tried to move on, but they blocked my way.

“Watch out Chris! He might nick you!”

They all jeered and began singing ‘Kleppy’ at me.

My far from strained temper snapped and I punched Kevin in the face.

Hard.

Silencing them.

“It’s Theo.” I informed them calmly before walking, or almost gliding away.

So calm, so collected.

You’d never know.

No one does.

Sapphire

Here's my very first short story.
I wrote it in November 2009 after finishing my first book, thinking I'd give it a while before I'd start another one.  That, however, didn't last and I started my second novel a few days afterwards.  :)
It's called Sapphire (my skills at coming up with titles has improved since this, as well as my paragraphing!)
Enjoy

 “Go on without me!” She urged, almost pushing me along the dark dank cave. I was about to object when she said, “Go on! We’ll both die if you don’t!”  That was the only thing she could have said to make me continue. I had to go on. It was the only way to save her. I bent down so that I was level with her eyes, that beautiful sea green, and gently pushed back her soft, damp hair. I noticed that she was shivering. I slipped off my jacket and put it on top of her. I softly kissed her forehead and was gone. I darted down the tunnel. Black. Nothing but Black. More and more. I felt as though it was squeezing me, crushing my lungs making it difficult to breathe. All I could think about was the person I’d left behind. I had to save her. If it was the last thing I would ever do . . . I was gasping now, pulling in a huge, scraping lungfuls of air. And then I saw a strip of light. The light at the end of the tunnel. That crazy lunatic was right! I span round the corner and almost collided with the huge glass case. The case was square and very clean. No human finger print had contaminated the surface. Strange. Was I the only person to ever get this far? Suspended within the case was a glowing sapphire. It cast a strange light around the cave and drew me in. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the glowing gem. I stood for a long time staring, no thoughts entered or exited my head. I was severely wrenched back into the present by an agonising scream. I could suddenly remember why I was here and what I was doing. Maybe this was why the case had never been touched. It was obviously magical and very, very dangerous. I summoned all of my strength from my already weakened body and threw myself against the case. It smashed into a thousand pieces sending shards of glass spiralling in every direction. I was covered in cuts, some only minor, but others sliced through me like a knife. My whole body was now covered in blood but I didn’t care. I grabbed the curious stone and ran full pelt back the way I had come. I stumbled on a rock and landed in my loves arms. She stared into my eyes, momentarily halting the whole of time and space. I had done it. I had saved her. The sapphire could be used to make a very precious liquid. It was going to save her, my broken love. The air began to squash me again, but it was nothing to do with the darkness that surrounded us. Her hot breath caressed my cheek and I shuddered. She smiled, lighting up our dark world. Suddenly we were kissing and then nothing else mattered. I was with her, she was with me, and everything was going to be fine.