I see you cross my vision every day, with no smile, no happiness to trace. What is your secret? Tell me. I want to know, I’ll help you, I will. I could understand your pain. But I can’t because I’m just being selfish; all I want is you in my arms right now. So tell me all pain anyway, tell me why you look so unhappy. Do you miss me, is that it? A year and four months is a long time, enough time to forget about me. The choices I chose last time, they were wrong. They lead me here, to this place, where dogs cry and the barn yard owl’s hoot, sinisterly calling into the woods. If you could talk to me, speak to me I could hear your cries. But hearing you cry before, I only ignored that so why not ignore it now.
I miss you to be honest I even ache for you. I ache all over, my pain is going slowly but it still hurts, this weight in my chest, the memory of your fragile features, stabbing into my heart laughing at me cruelly. It yells at me in my sleep, bellowing and echoing making my ears bleed, making my wrists throb, holding me up like a puppet, by the veins in my body as it toys with me. Forcing me to dance, forcing me to walk around, then as I fall, fall down when you drop me, I wake. My feeble mind fully toyed with, I push away the feelings. Not even my boyfriend can help me; he tries his cuddles warm and soft, squishing me trying to take away the pain.
I can’t take it away though, that why I am here now, to say sorry and beg your forgiveness. “You hear that? I’m sorry!” I screamed it, at the lifeless silence around me.
The return of whistling wind is all that answered back. I’m crazy, I swear I’m insane. The tasteless tears tumbled from my eyes, each one turning the green to grey around me. The mist crawled over the grey tribute before me, reading the words that glared at me. It was my fault, I killed her. I didn’t save her when she needed me, I ignored the abuse, the hints and midnight cries. I didn’t realize the day mother left, I didn’t want to see the blood stains on her shirt, the mud on her knees, or the anger in her eyes and face as she was dragged from me.
I was naïve I wanted my mother back. I wanted to know why the men in coats and caps stole her. They wouldn’t tell me at first, I just sat in a corner crying. I was fourteen, and only just fourteen at that. When they brought down the black bag, merely four foot long, I didn’t know you were inside. I thought it was just her clothes, I blocked it out, and I blamed it on myself. I thought she was just leaving, running away. But it wasn’t long until they put you six foot under, in a space less tall than me.
I’m here now, at your gravestone, and I’m sorry I should have saved you. Somehow I need to move on…
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Hello there and welcome to YWS!
Your piece has a very interesting twist as it goes to the ending, which I think saved the whole story. I think reading this, especially from the beginning, became really dull and nagging. There was very little gripping elements. I felt compelled to read on in other words. The best thing you could do, because the concept after all is very creative, is to expand it a little more. I think the reason why the first two paragraphs are just too nagging is because you used a little amount of space to get a whole lot of information across.
I hope this helps.
Keep writing
Hi there, Rachymare. First off, you use some powerful diction in this piece. It draws out a ton of emotion in a short space, which is great. I particularly liked your imagery, because they were great visual representations of the emotions. Also, I loved how you milked out the situation to the reader and kept that sense of mystery until the end. That being said, I think that there was probably a little too much mystery. I'm not exactly sure who the dead person is. The mother, maybe? I would love to see more character development and more explanation of what happened instead of solely an exposé of emotion. In fact, I think you can cut the second paragraph altogether. I also think you can cut the bit about the boyfriend; he isn't a major part of the story, so he just distracts from your narrative about the relationship between the main character and the dead woman (mother?).
To sum up, keep it mysterious, but not as ambiguous as it is now. Add more narrative about the relationship between the two characters and why there was neglect involved; that concept is still pretty vague. You've got the insanity portion well described, though, so good job. I look forward to reading more of your work in the future.