Radio Mantra

(Rated 12 and up. One of the darkest short stories I've ever written. I was sad just writing it. So I hope this story makes you sad, in a good way. BTW - My computer is making the format come out weird. Can't really fix it. Anyways, thanks for reading.)

I turned on the radio and tried to drown out my breaths. A man’s sultry voice shook and rattled through the speakers.
“When I see your face,
It’s like a neon comet shooting through space.
When I look at you,
I can’t help but feel spectacular.
Put your arms around me,
Let’s just kiss, kiss, kiss,
Because you’re the only one who understands my pain."

The singer plucked guitar chords and sang about a loved one he missed. The song was pretty but mediocre. There are too many love songs in the world for me.

I was in the bathroom; my feet perched on the top of the bathtub. I slowly chewed an almond granola bar. If I listened closely, the slow chomp-chomp and grinding of my teeth were the only sound I could hear besides the radio. I stared up at the wooden ceiling fan. A couple of bugs had gotten into the light bulb. I had to remind dad to change it.

Two thirty in the A.M. and I was the only conscious soul in the house. I looked sideways at the toilet bowl and shuddered. Regrettably, I almost thought about not finishing the granola bar. I still chewed on.

The radio next to me changed to another song; this time an electric guitar started strumming a funky melody. One of the reasons I liked listening to the radio in the middle of the night was because there were no commercials. Since few people listened, I guess the employees at the radio station didn’t think it was worth enough to hire a late night D.J.

After I finished the granola bar, I balled up the foil wrapper and tried to rebound it off the rim of the trash can. It missed and landed a few inches from the bottom of the bin. I didn’t feel like getting it.

I was wearing a big, white t-shirt I had gotten from Lorenzo’s Gym a couple months ago and pajama pants. My golden hair was piled high atop my head in a frizzy bun. You could see some of my stomach slightly protruding through the t-shirt.

My index finger was long, slender, and thin. I didn’t bother to paint my nails. My cuticles, however, were healthy and nice. I never chewed my nails.

Slowly, I brought the finger towards my mouth. I moved closer towards the toilet. The shiny white color glinted in my eyes, and I squinted. My mouth opened obediently and I started to lower my finger into my pie hole.

I stopped. Panicking, I took deep breaths as some rock and roll band was playing my theme music.

Some part of my brain knew that doing this would be an ultimate low for me. Some part of my brain told me that I wasn’t fat; my weight was perfectly normal.

A mantra repeated over and over in my head: FAT, LOSER, FAT, FAT, LOSER, FAT, LOSER, FAT, FAT, LOSER. It was like some terrible chant, echoing through the deep shafts of my mind.

I tried sticking my finger down my throat again, but I still couldn’t make myself puke. Infuriated, I balled my hands up into fists and hit the skin on my knees. Boiling tears formed in my eyes and made everything blurry. One tear started rolling down my cheek.

I told myself to calm down, and then tried to vomit again. I touched the back of my throat. Succumbed to gagging, I dry heaved as I leaned my head over the toilet. It felt as if I was choking and gagging, but in a bile-almond mess. Pieces of granola lodged in my throat, but they did not come up.

Over and over again I tried and tried, but I always was left with the same outcome. During my last attempt I was breathing rapidly

I lost my composure. I started crying again; loud, flemmy sobs that echoed in the tile room. Silent screams slipped through my mouth. I quivered.

A noise different from the normal bathroom sounds entered my train of my thought. Seconds later, my mother opened the door, wearing old fashioned curlers and a pink terry bathrobe. She saw me and sighed. Getting down on her knees, she wrapped her arms around me. Every few seconds she whispered, “It’s alright baby. Shhhh……”

A slow, acoustic song had been playing on the radio. I leaned my head on my mother’s shoulder as I listened to the lyrics.
“For awhile I didn’t notice,
What part of me was dead,
My soul fell into a rabbit hole,
But I didn’t wind up in Wonderland.
My body is a mess,
But my heart is worse,
I’m just sitting here waiting,
For someone to break this evil curse.”

Hi! I'm Esther and I will be reviewing you today.

Very, very good job. Since this is in the short story section, I am going to assume this is the the whole story and review it as such. Now, on to the review!

STUFF I LIKED:

Of course I liked the idea, and you pulled it off well. It wasn't too sappy or too melodramatic. I applaud you for that.

I like how the story is focussed on just one aspect of her anerexia, and how it looks into one particularly bad habit. The lyrics were a nice touch. Did you write them yourself? They were pretty good!

IFFY STUFF:

This story looks into just one part of this girl's difficult journey, which is interesting, but doesn't have any resolution. At the end I was expecting more of a climax, but it basically ended where it started. You made us grow concerned for the character, but you also left us wondering what will happen. For the end I suggest more of a closing. It doesn't have to be happy; I don't think that is what you are going for. Just make sure the reader's get a certain amount of closing to make them feel like they read a short story, not a blurb from a novel.

Perhaps explain a little how the girl got this way, because right now we don't know anything about her. Don't worry about taking up too much space! One of the golden rules of short stories is to make the reader feel for the character a lot in a very limited time. Remember, this is a "short" short story so don't be afraid to add on.

OVERALL: Very good! You made me go, "oh no!" mentally quite a bit. And it did make me sad. I'd say just give us more info about the character and a bit more of a closing. Other than that, keep it up!

**EDIT- Oh, and the ending lyrics made me shiver! I'm not sure if they make a good ending or not, though.

Hiya,

I'm not sure what to think about the story. It had its share of both positives and negatives, but I think most of the latter are just a result of the fact that this is a first draft. This just needs to be sifted, is all. If you remove the water from the pasta, it'll be a lot better to eat, right? To start off with what I liked- you had lovely imagery and ideas, and I loved how eerie the whole thing felt, sort of like a twilight zone episode. Making it inter-cut with lyrics added a nice touch.

Anyway, my qualms mostly resided in the way that things were presented and how you laid everything out. It sort of seemed to me like you thought up a quick idea and wrote it down without taking a second thought to plan. As a result, you shove information to us with little build-up, which makes the reader very confused and wondering, "Where did that come from?"

You start off with a nice slow pace with the main character listening to love songs on the radio, and then she eats a granola bar. I suppose that this is your attempt at foreshadowing, but it needs to be a lot better. Why? People eat. I assumed she was just hungry, as I get midnight snack cravings on occasion. You don't in any way tell us WHY she's eating the granola bar, thus leading the reader to believe that it is just an insignificant part of the story. Usually, when foreshadowing occurs, you don't just give us an object, you delve into a bit of detail about what may happen, in this case, a disorder. Just a mention of food isn't going to do the job, which makes the introduction of her bulimia really jarring.

I was wearing a big, white t-shirt I had gotten from Lorenzo’s Gym a couple months ago and pajama pants. My golden hair was piled high atop my head in a frizzy bun. You could see some of my stomach slightly protruding through the t-shirt.

My index finger was long, slender, and thin. I didn’t bother to paint my nails. My cuticles, however, were healthy and nice. I never chewed my nails.

I think you could try to describe her a little better. Many people fall victim to bulimia, even those that aren't very fat. So, instead of providing us with a general description of her appearance, I would focus a little bit more on her weight. It's what drives this piece, and in a short story, you can't afford to take any detours.

Secondly, this is too much of an info-dump. It's like the story stops just so you can relay us this information, which can get a bit boring. To keep things interesting, most authors make sure that when describing things, they inter-cut it with story so it doesn't seem like just a recital of character profile information.

In addition, it struck me as odd that she would describe her hair as 'golden'. It's an adjective which implies beauty, and you make it clear to us that your character doesn't have a very high self-esteem. Take Uglies, for example. The author sets us up with a world in which teenagers are brainwashed into believing that they're ugly. From the front cover, it's established that the protagonist, Tally Youngblood, is actually quite beautiful, but she thinks of herself as ugly and thus describes herself with repulsive adjectives. For your character, it wouldn't be society but more just gut feeling.

I loved the ending. It gave off just an utterly creepy feel, sort of like the Twilight Zone. I also think that, with it, you illustrate a magnificent moral-that while there will people there to support us, our problems will never be easily solved. Anyway, good luck with this, and drop me a note when the revised version's up. I'd love the read it!

-Elinor x

Well hello there, Jane! Here to review the heck out of this!

Two thirty in the A.M. and I was the only conscious soul in the house.

In the A.M. sounds, well, a little odd. ‘in the morning’ sounds less critical than ‘A.M.’…at least in my opinion. This was really the only nitpick I had. It just bothered me terribly for some reason and I don’t really know why.


I loved that you introduced the story with lyrics and closed it with lyrics (and by the way, those ending lyrics were rather eerie and they weren’t too clichéd to the story but just enough to fit the purpose).

Also, I liked your use of rather normal terminology like ‘pie hole.’ I mean, she’s an insecure teenager. Teens use words like ‘pie hole.’ It made it more realistic.

My only real problem at all with this was the info-dump that Elinor mentioned. But I just really don’t like info dumps.

So good job! If you have any questions or need help with anything, let me know.

~lilymoore

I really enjoyed this, I like the edgier vibe your story gives, and the lyrics added to that feeling. It did make me sad, in a good way. The only thing I would question is the bulimic girl thinking for that second that she was at a normal weight, because bulimics see themselves as overweight no matter what weight they are at, it is literally a delusional state of mind. I am not a bulimic so I can't really say this for sure, it's just what I have thought to be true. Anyway, you have written a great short story and the message you were hoping to send (in making the reader sad in a good way), it's coming through loud and clear.
-Matt