Mirror of Memories

I wrote this story in hopes of getting back into writing. It has been about two months since I have written anything. This story is a "last day" story that shows a man's regret for committing a crime. Please note that this is not your typical story (are any of mine?). Please be honest with comments and if you like, reward me with stars!

Mirror of Memories:

The bed shook vigorously as I collapsed onto it due to its old age, then gradually stopped. I stared blankly at the plain white roof of my plain white house. Sure, I could have afforded better, in fact, I could have owned a mansion. Money wasn't the problem. And now, I didn't even care. All I cared about was making the pain stop...

I sat up and looked down at my hands. They were absolutely filthy. I brought my face down to them. They may have been grimy now, but my tears would soon change that. These tears would be my last and only. For years, I had put off crying, locked my pain into some box. Over those horrible years of changing locations and identities, the box had slowly filled with my internal fear and regret. Now, the box was full, and the lid was forced open. Now, my emotions were out, and there was no way to recapture them.

I moved my hands away from my face and used my right arm to wipe my nose. I glanced up quickly as I heard the footsteps approach. They were the same footsteps that had pursued me for the past six years due to an unfortunate crime I had initiated. Why had I committed such a horrible act of treachery. I should have known it was going to end like this. This would be my last day.

The footsteps stopped and the banging began. My door shook at the force of the impact. I stood up and walked over to a small dresser that stood in the corner of the room. The pounding continued though I ignored it. I traced my had along the edges of the dresser, my only reminder of the life I once had. It wasn't the dresser that was so important, but the mirror that lay on top of it. I picked up the mirror and looked within. There, I saw a man, a man covered in dust and guilt. There I saw a man that didn't deserve life. A man, that had ruined life for another.

It was there where I truly saw what kind of person I was. After the initial impact that this tiny object bestowed in me, I saw my true face. It was not the face of a murderer as the world had seen it. No, it was the face of a man who had lost his way and had tried to redeem himself. This man had done wrong only once. Usually, he had kept to himself, not bothered with other people. Of course, this man had been the model citizen in doing so.

The mirror then changed. I no longer saw the man, I saw a child. This child was sad and crying. Oh, how his parents would have been proud. The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. Around him, people cheered, did exactly as they were supposed to. The misery this boy felt was what we had all been told to feel. This was the first time I could truly admit to feeling that pain, and it was horrible. It shocked me how we had all worked so hard to achieve the pain and suffering this boy had, only to find out that it didn't feel good like we thought it would.

I shut my eyes as the crime came back. It was a simple and small crime, a crime I didn't think myself capable of. It was unimportant and shouldn't have mattered all that much. I opened my eyes and saw the mirror reflect the same crime I had performed on that day. There, on the man's face, my face, there was a smile. A tiny sliver of light in an otherwise dark world. Of course, light was frowned upon, it had to be. Light gave us false hope, hope that one day we could live happily. In the dark, in our world, death is the only thing there is to look forward to. I gave that boy hope of life, and because of me, that boy had never committed suicide.

At last, the door broke and six armed men walked into my room. They shot without hesitation. The bed shook vigorously as I collapsed onto it, then gradually stopped. I stared blankly at the plain white roof of my plain white house. I could have owned a mansion. None of that mattered now, I didn't even care. All I cared about was making the pain stop...

And then, the pain did stop. The world faded to black and all of my suffering was over. Had I finally made it? Had I finally reached death? Maybe people hadn't been wrong about this after all. It was so calm and peaceful here, I never wanted to leave. I thought about simple things, and then, thought of nothing at all. My mind was quiet and would be forever more.
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This story has been revised a total of 1 time. Please comment and give me suggestions for improvement.

fading-dream wrote: The bed shook vigorously as I collapsed onto it, then gradually stopped.

I dunno about this line. The first impression you get is of a bed shaking vigorously. This is odd for two reasons: one, shaking beds tend to have a different un-PG connotation, and two, that you don't really describe beds as shaking "vigorously". It's just kinda weird.

I sat up and looked down at my hands. They were absolutely filthy. I brought my face down to them. [Awkward wording there, again] They may have been grimy now, but my tears would soon change that. These tears would be my last and only. For years, I had put off crying, locked my pain into some box. Over those horrible years of changing locations and identities, the box had slowly filled with my internal fear and regret. Now, the box was full, and the lid was forced open.

Nice metaphor

Now, my emotions were out, and there was no way to recapture them. I moved my hands away from my face and used wiped my running nose. I glanced [s]quickly[/s] up as I heard the footsteps approach. They were the same footsteps I had been running from since my crime six years ago.

I’d probably change this sentence so that it’s less awkward. Something more like “the footsteps that had pursued me for six years” or something like that

Why had I committed such a horrible act of treachery? I should have known it was going to end like this. This would be my last day. The footsteps stopped and the banging began. The door shook with the force of the impact. I stood up and walked over to a small dresser that stood in the corner of the room. The pounding continued though I ignored it. My hand felt the edges of the dresser, my only reminder[of what?]. It wasn't that the dresser was so important, but the mirror that lay on top of it. I picked up the mirror and looked within. There, I saw a man, a man covered in dust and guilt. There I saw a man that didn't deserve life. A man, that had ruined life for another. It was there where I truly saw what kind of person I was. After the initial impact that this tiny object bestowed in me, I saw my true face. It was not the face of a murderer as the world had seen it. No, it was the face of a man who had lost his way and had tried to redeem himself. This man had done wrong only once. Usually, he had kept to himself, not bothered with other people. Of course, this man had been the model citizen in doing so.

So the rest is actually all right, in terms of semantics and stuff. It was really good and compelling. I’d say the only problem was your awkward wording. Sometimes you use the wrong idiomatic phrases, but that’ll get better if you just read more. Also, you tend to have some sort of disconnect between your character and his body. You don’t really have to say that his hand felt the dresser, because you pretty much only feel things with your hand, so it’s a bit superfluous to say that. Otherwise, good story, and nice concept! =)

Wow that was intense. I like it =D

Keep it up! The wording sounded right to me and it was extremely intense.

And that's what rough copies are for, posting them here for your fellow writers to help you =D

Keep up the good work

Hey =]

I really liked this

I couldn't find any other mistakes that haven't already been pointed out to you.

I could really feel the pain that your MC was going through and it made him seems a lot more realistic.

I like how you repeated some of the first paragraph near the end too.

For not having written in two months, this was brilliant!

Keep up the good writing

xDudettex

Hi, i like the concept you came up with and you blended the metaphor and action, the small amount there was, really well. The piece made me picture what was happing really well and i liked the bit in the mirror.
I would agree with Pla303 that some of the wording was awkward for instance when you said "because of me that boy had never committed suicide" nice idea but a little awkward and there are other examples.
BUt keep writing, i was really impressed with the piece. x
PM me with any questions
Quibbons Quill

i only want to say that i like that you say the bed "shook vigorously". it gives a good picture of an old, unstable bed. if you think about it too much it may not be realistic, but that's only if you think about it too much. i liked it as an opening line.

Thanks for the comments. I like my other works better but still felt that I needed to post this. I might go back and change some stuff because after two months of not writing, I realize that some wording is very awkward. Thanks so much for commenting. Will write something new soon!
EDIT: Okay, I have gone back and fixed up a lot of grammar and such. I think my main problem originally was that this story didn't interest me all that much but was vital to getting the creativity to start flowing. I can now continue writing.