Young Writers Society

Hi I'm new to this site.

Anyway here's my story:

What I've Become

The handle of the knife feels good in my hand as I creep silently along the hallway. I will make her pay. Hate fills every fiber of me. The years of repressed rage at her injustice have carved me into something inhuman. I hate every bit of her stinking Christian body. I imagine what it will feel like to kill her. What it will feel like to sink my blade into her yielding flesh. Cutting open her chest and shoving my hand in to squeeze her beating heart between my fingers. Slicing open her belly, ripping out handfuls of intestines. Fucking her with my knife; shoving the steel blade between the soft folds of her cunt. I shiver with anticipation.

She’ll wish she had never tried to impose her pathetic control over me. Forcing me to go to church every Sunday. Making me sit through the pastor’s two hour sermons on our “friend” in heaven. I never believed any of that shit. Where was my “friend” when I was strapped for listening to a secular radio station, when I was strapped by a complete stranger for running in church. Where was my “friend” when—

With a shake of my head, I return to the present.

I’m almost at her door. I hear the sounds of her breathing. I’m so nervous I’m shaking. I sink the knife into the palm of my hand. Blood spurts. The pain eases my nervousness. I lick my hand clean.

I open the door to my mother’s room. I quietly move over to her bed. This is it. I hesitate for a moment, then twist my fingers into her thick hair, wrenching her head back, exposing her neck. Her eyes open, she looks at me, uncomprehensive at first. Then as realization hits, fear fills her eyes. I bring the blade of the knife down on her neck. It doesn’t penetrate. I push harder. It’s blunt. My mother is struggling now. Frustrated, I reverse my grip on the knife and stab down again, this time using the point.

It slides in with sickening ease, prompting a fountain of blood to spurt. I lower my lips to the wound, sucking my mother’s hot blood into my mouth. The bitch is struggling harder now. Finally she gets an angle and drives a hard elbow into my balls. Gasping in pain, I stagger back into the wall, sliding down it. My mother struggles to her feet, stumbling toward the dresser where she keeps a gun. My mind goes numb. I lunge for her.

I’m knocked back by the force of three bullets that slam into my chest. My eyes are dimming. I see red matter on my hand, I realize it’s my blood. I slump to the ground with life ebbing out of me. Just before my vision goes dark I see my mother collapse on the floor.

I’m taking her with me.

whoah, man thats kinda scary.

I like the discription in the first part,

Lucifer wrote: Hate fills every fiber of me. The years of repressed rage at her injustice have carved me into something inhuman.

the word carved is the perfect word for that.

Lucifer wrote: I slump to the floor with life ebbing out of me. Just before my vision goes dark I see my mother collapse on the floor... I’m taking her with me.

This part shows just how psyco the guy in your story is, i mean his mother just shot him three times in the head and all he can say is that he's glad he's taking her with him.

anyway, i loved it, can't wait to read more of your stuff and welcome to the site! i hope you enjoy it.


have a nice day
bluecows

Whoa, I love this story. It really gripped me. The story is perfect for this time. (with Halloween coming up and everything.) There are just a few problems. But that can be sorted out. I ain't good at criticism but I'll try.

uncomprehensive at first.

Is that meant to be incomprehensive?

Anyway, I love it.

All was wonderfully narrated until his mother pulled the gun.

She moved much too quickly and efficiently for being stabbed in the neck. Also, three shots direct shots to the head, even at close range, would require great concentration and great reflexes. The mother had neither of these.

Furthermore, in the highly unlikely even that themother managed to hit him three times in the head, he would be a corpse before his body even started to crumple to the floor. His dying thought would be something like pOh shit she's got a gun. Once he took the first bullet, he'd be dead. Especially if she shot him in the front of the head, where the frontal lobe is located. That's the "I see you" part of the brain. He wouldn't see anything, and in all likelyhood, would have no thought after being shot.

I'd change the mother's movements to clumsy, maybe make her miss a shot, then shoot him in the chest or the shoulder, anything center mass. The head is much too tough a target to be able to his while bleeding out from a knife wound to the neck.

Everything else was well written and thoroughly creepy, thanks.

Just some friendly advice.

--Q

I didn't even think of all that Quiz. I'll prolly change it to chest instead of head. I don't want to make her miss any shots because it would break up the pace.

You said she moves to quickly. Would "stumbling toward the dresser where she keeps a gun" help?

Thanks for your time.

Yes, I believe it would. Perhpas something along the lines of "struggling to her feet, she stumbles...." or something to that extent?

Thank you for the consideration.

--Q

Wow that was a fast response. Thank you.

Spooky story but no feeling of rage that this guy felt

"trage"? Do you mean "rage"?

I think there's plenty of rage in it.

WOah graphic...

It certainly earned its rating.

One or two things.

1. Whats a cunt? *blushes*

2.
I slump to the floor with life ebbing out of me. Just before my vision goes dark I see my mother collapse on the floor.

You said floor twice. Try ground?

Thats all, great halloween scary story!

Wow... I've seen so many of this kind of story, going to a Catholic school. You win. Yours made me cringe the most. Especially raping your mom with the knife. Wouldn't Freud love to get his hands on you!

You used your sentence structure to good effect. You choppy sentences worked especially well for expressing thought.

The struggle was a bit confusing. I think simply breaking it into fewer, smaller paragraphs would help. White space gives the reader's brain time to register the words that preceded it. If you run words together, the reader will rush through (like I did.)

Very striking and creepy, but, what was your intent? If it was to make your reader squirm, great job. If you wanted to say something more, you lost me.

It's a story about revenge basically. I'll try and break up the struggle more.

jenna: Cunt is a nasty word for vagina.

Umm. Pretty graphic. Good enough, but easy with the fucking her with the knife and slicing the folds of her cunt stuff dude.
I think if you are gonna swear that explicitely. (you cant get any worse than the words you used) than you should use it with a little more control and respect. It seemed you just wanted to type the words and the same visual effect and emotional effect could have come from sinking the blade deep in the belly and stuff.

After the excessive swearing the story gets really well described, but I agree with the above statement that besides being a gory bloodfest, it doesnt speak volumes about teenage angst.

I'm not sure what you mean by saying "control and respect".

I didn't just put the words there to have them. I use language like salt. I felt using those words would give the most impact.

So.........this guy went absolutely mental all because his mother made him go to church?