One Large Laughable Mistake

I have not written on this subject for a long time, it feels refreshing to tell it again. This is probably not very good, it was written more to free my soul than to be a great literary piece, but I am proud of myself for having written it and I'd like to share it.

Warning for Graphic Content, mature audiences only.




I remember you, I think, through a child's naive memory. I remember your hair and your eyes-- your smile. And how, at first, it all seems to be one large laughable mistake. So when I back away and your eyes turns cold-- your smile becoming sickeningly sweet, I still do not comprehend. And when I reach for the door, embarrassed, I think that I can walk away-- giggle about it later with my friends.

“I'm sorry,” I say, “wrong bathroom.” I stifle a laugh and try to leave.

But you grab me, press the cold metal to my side and tell me not to move-- and I still don't understand.

I remember, how fear takes over and my muscles seize, my head screaming something's wrong.

“Lay down.” you whisper, but I do not move, I do not budge-- I should have listened.

You push me and I fall-- hit my knees. I hear myself whimper, and my legs hurt.

“Please, let me go, I didn't do anything wrong, I swear!”

You grab my hair and push me down, so I am laying on my back. I am scared-- you like it.

“Lay down.”

And your whispered commands become my silent condemnation-- your voice sounds sweet, and I feel sick.

I remember.

You hold me down-- touch me in places that only I have ever touched. I squirm, trying to free myself from your grip, begging God to strike you down. But God is not listening, and I am alone.

You tell me how pretty I am-- I am such a good girl.

I wish I could say that I fought you, but I'd be lying if I did.

I remember.

I lay silently, with tears on my face that I don't recall shedding. You pull at my clothes, until I am naked and crying-- silent sobs that make my body shake. Your hand comes over my mouth and you tell me not to scream, you tell me that I'll like it.

“I'm going to make you a woman.” you say, the threat in that is evident, and I taste bile.

It hurts, what you do-- forcing my body to take what it's not ready for. I bleed, and I ask you again to stop. I hear myself sounding so pathetic-- so weak.

And when you're done with me you leave-- one last smile for the road.

And I remember when my one large laughable mistake became my constant nightmare.

This is sad....really sad!

Tiff! I’ll say right now that I’ll be as careful with this as I can be. I’m sure it has a lot of a story behind it. I’ll point out some grammar stuff for the sake of it but don’t take it to heart. It’s just the crazy person in me.

I remember you, I think, through a child's naive memory.

The bolded makes this opening feel heavy. I don’t think you really need it. I feel it has more impact without.

Also, I wonder why there are so many dashes used in the opening. To that point, I’m a little confused by there are three and I can’t see much reasoning for any of them. Actually, there are a lot in the whole thing. It's probably a creative decision that I just don't understand. I are not so smarts sometimes. >.<


Okay, I was about to point out a lot of the same problem but it’s really the same idea. You just have a lot of commas throughout that aren’t needed.


But you’re so brave to even be able to write this down. I’ve been through similar in my past and I still wish I had the strength you do to talk about the darker parts of my past. You’re a beautiful, strong individual Tiff and you came out of it all the better.

*hugs and cookies*

The commas and dashes are probably not necessary, but they're intended to show where I paused in my own mind before continuing. It's supposed to feel a bit jagged and fragmented, so I'm actually okay with it.

So, to drop a note. You don't have to take what I say into full account considering my lack of expertize in this. But here we go:

#1. You said the detached feel to this was on purpose, but really I felt it to be quite damaging to the story. It isn't really detached, rather completely unexplanatory. I'm not asking you to describe those kinds of things, but your over simplistic take of this story makes it appear cliche and just plain.

#2 It's really all the shards of the bones in the pile, you don't have much of a structure and once again you took a much to simplistic take on it leaving bare bones that are falling in on one another. Your character for example is just a blank space. We go in to this story with an expectation, and your lack of detail makes us leave with a dwindling sympathy for that blank space.

#3 The uses of poetic devices in this story appear random, things like the repetition of 'I remember' and the image of sickly sweetness is once again plain. Sickly sweet is probably the most commonly used image for romance gone wrong. I know you have the capacity to think of something more original.

Overall, I didn't really enjoy this piece, for the stated reason of simplicity. I'd think that something like that would hold more meat to it rather then just being a wispy phantom chained down by words.

One thing I can compliment you on is being able to write about this.

Kamas

Kamas> It's intended to show what it really feels like for the abused years later. Where some details are very vivid, voices, tones, smiles and eyes and faces, but then how you detach yourself almost completely from your emotions from that time so that it's almost like you didn't feel anything at all. I think the fact that it's not being shown in an effective way is my fault, but I don't think I can ditch the detached feeling entirely.