Laying on the ground, the world screeched its noises like a swarm of hornets. The rigid road, encrusted with pebbles of dirt, made fresh wounds upon my lower back. Even though the mind was engulfed in a vacant void, the uncontrollable pain throbbed with waves of agony. However, a single thought rose in my head that started as a mere whisper, ushering its influential truth with the thumping of my heart. The subtle sounds echoed throughout my mind, overlapping each other and creating an orchestra of fear. The orchestra, molding its self into a form, toke the shape that matched my childhood phobia; fear of snakes. A python slithered within the roars of my every-growing fear, repeating the phrase that will haunt my next days. It’s all your fault. My fear shouldn’t be shaped by just a memory. The struggle would continue, and through it, I would find that the battlefield was never fought alone.
Getting dressed was a natural struggle, for knowing that awakening someone else could lead to an afternoon punishment; so, slow and steady won the race. Of course, upon forgetting the load that had finished in the dryer the night before, it was even more chaotic as the search for clothes was time consuming. Glancing at the time to ensure that I would have enough to walk to the bus, I headed out of the door with a fresh pair of jeans and a white shirt with a tacky slogan. Only when satisfied with the time did my journey continue. Ambling the path that was engrained in my head like the palm of my hand, the morning wind sent icy kisses at my face. My subconscious mind was focused on getting me to my destination, but my conscious mind wondered off in its own little world. While crossing the intersection between my block and the one across, the focus of my subconscious mind was to secure my well-being from any danger.
However, crossing the street again only left me faced with a beam of blinding light. A car, just a few feet in front of me, rammed into my left calf. As the car screwed to the side, the impact that was thrown upon me left me skidding on the ground. It felt like a baseball hit the mid-knee. It seared with bubbling pain that prickled my mid-knee with metal needles as my whole leg muscle tensed with anxiety. My body went into shock as I just laid on my right side of my body, freezing myself into a motionless position to try to reduce the pain. Specks of dirt sliced into my back that buzzed with burning energy. Dirt blurred my eyes and left me in a state of isolation. Something burned on my back, and upon touch it seared with roaring pain, leaving only a dark substance on the tip of my index finger. Leaving the shirt as my only protection for my sizzling wounds, I curled upon myself in a small ball. “Help,” I croaked to the noisy world around me, hoping that someone would come. Smearing the blood from my finger onto my pant, my vision tingled with blots of black spots, all the while hoping for the pain to subside.
The police came with their uniforms, and soon afterwards Mom, who stood over me like a mental supporter. Believing that my injuries were of no seriousness, Mom called off the ambulance and drove me to an urgent care. That’s when the reality of what happened hit me harder than the car did. Tears of my pain fell upon my face as the rest of the day went into a slow motion. Time moved with utter slowness, and somehow ending up with a fragmented fibula, my parents waited with me for the doctors that never seemed to come. While constantly waiting was all remembered, my fears stilled lurk in the back of my thoughts that echoed throughout my whole day. With it, the fear of my snakes hissed its words of venom that made my head sting with a headache. The single thought of failure, pain, and disappointment was all too much to handle, and with the constant attention that my leg was receiving from the doctors, my only desire was to wrap myself in a blanket and sleep away the pain. Through the tears that fell like a hail storm from the raging war that bashed my mind with thundering words, along with the rolling dullness of the whole hospital ritual, my wish was met as we drove home. Once home, sleep was the remedy that could cure my sadness.
Yet, it would not come. My room, with its pleasant darkness that had cocooned me for the three years that was spent in this house, was now creating shadows the made my imagination ignite with horrors from the day. Tears came out, choking me with gasps and wheezes that caused me to fall on the ground. My fears of the car replayed in my head like torture as the memory sent waves of pain to my broken leg. The images crashed down on me like a falling house being burned by fire, fire that came in the form of a car, but, oh, don’t think of that. Fire that came in the shape of failure that seemed to deteriorate my mind. The swirls of the car lurked in the fire’s mighty flames as it engulfed me within the fires destruction. The snake, as it mimicked the words of my fears, hissed in the shadows of the fire as it coiled around me and sent another wave of tears upon my soaked face. It was all your fault, it hissed. How will you ever walk the streets again. “What have I done,” I muttered to my fear. The only way to escape my fear was through exhaustion, but even then, the present of my fears lurked in my dreams.
The school day wasn’t bad; if anything, it provided a distraction from my time spent at home. People would ask what had happened to me, and my reply would be in a joking tone, “Dur, I got hit by a car.”
“You should have used a cross walk. You dumb?”, they would ask. The only problem was that the answer wasn’t that simple.
Since my personality didn’t involve showing how I truly felt, my best characteristic was simple leaving a topic alone, especially one that shouldn’t be touched. After school, my struggles would consist of taking a bath without burning the wounds that would reopen and puss out its ooze, along with the struggles within my bedroom that couldn’t provide even the slightest of comfort. And of course, one can’t forget the daily battles of University High. That day was a physical struggle, for tension had reduce from my body and what was left was soreness. It felt like every fiber in my body was damaged and broken in some way, shape, or form. The same routine continued on for the next three days, until the fourth night, when the snake decided to fight head on.
It wasn’t that it was a bad night, for sleep was found without any feeling of sorrow from the events. My hope, that finally the fear would not be present, was only a lie. It awoken me from my night’s slumber when the images flashed between my eyes. The burning head of the snake was encased with fire as it repeated my worst fears. It’s all your fault. I saw the face of the man that hit me, watched as he yelled at me, scream at me. You retarded teenager, he yelled in my head. Why should your suffering cause me trouble? The car was going to be my assassin, and my grave. The squealing of rubber against the street crushed me against the corner of my room, trying to shrink back in fear and anxiety. Stupid, little boy. The snake, lashing out with its words that felt like truth, hit me like a whip. Again, and again, the words that burned in my head struck me. And just when my head was going to explode, a gate way inside my soul awakened.
Instead of just me fighting the snake, I felt more than a dozen hands supporting me, almost guiding me, through this madness. My Mom, telling me that it would be fine. My step-dad, urging me not to back down. My friend, Andrea, providing a hand of silent support that somehow comforted me. Anahime, giving me her strength that tingled new life within me. Dawson, giving me the courage that burned brighter than any flame that could be lightened. And countless others; Gianna, Juliana, Julia, Axel, Tommy, Adrienne, MRM, even the new friends that were made like Sam, Ariana, and Max. All their hands fell upon me, gave me their characteristic that repaired my heart that was wrecked from the car. It was like an older version of myself had awakened, and with the support that glowed around me, the voices of my fears didn’t feel that strong. Seeing past its lies, my mind opened to a new perspective. Yes, all those things it said was true, for it was my own stupidity that got me ran over; however, it didn’t matter what happened in the past. It’s how I use these memories to shape my future.
That night after falling asleep again, the dream that carried me through the night was the day of the crash. However, the image of the car or me lying on the ground did not spark fear with me. It was as if excepting that these memories were mine, and not trying to run away from them, showed me what really happened, without paradigms of fear. It will always be a part of me, and based off what was learned that night, so were the others that have made an impact upon my life. Though how cheesy it may sound, I have started calling it the Key of Intervening Lives. It shows how any problem, any struggle, can be achieved through mental guidance of those who you hold dearest to your hearts. There will always be a battle to fight, yet it will not be fought alone. With this, you can build strong relationships with friends and help fix problems before they start, so that they can help you with challenges. Now it keeps me wondering how big my web of lives will connect with others. For that’s what the key of Intervening Lives is all about.
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125,005 Literary Works • 672,796 Reviews
Hi, Shademaster.
I had small issues with your writing but the others went over them already. I won't get into a repeat performance here.
It was nonetheless an interesting shortstory about an accident victim. But it was set after the accident It's a refreshing change of pace.
I don't think people measure how traumatizing a car accident can be. It's so commonplace nowaday that people just don't pay much attention unless you have been severely injured. They don't realize that the pain, the surprise, the shock stay with you. And you relive them all the time because cars are everywhere. And then, there are the nightmares. The recurring pain while you heal. And you can't really talk about it because you sound like you are whining.
There is only one thing that seemed strange to me. In the beginning, it didn't sound like your protagonist had lots of very supportive people around him. It's quite possible that he wasn't seeing it because of the shock, guilt and of his obvious (and I congratulate you for that) shame. But it's surprising that, all of a sudden, he gets over his nightmares without talking about them or receiving support in any clear way.
It might actually be a counterproductive way of telling this story. It could give the impression that getting over trauma requires a passive attitude. It doesn't. You have to will it, to confront your fears, to talk about your emotions.
Anyway, thanks for the shortstory, ShadeMaster. I would be happy to read more.
Hey. This is a very good story with a deep meaning. The protagonist's pain during the car collision was conveyed well with the wide array of descriptive words, and the effect of the snakes was well established as it was repeatedly mentioned throughout the story, so I could clearly see just how terrified the protagonist was of the snakes, and how this fear fueled the fear towards being the cause of the accident.
However, I think that oftentimes you have used certain words to describe situations which don't exactly fit, for example, "the world screeched its noises like a swarm of hornets" - I think that the word 'screeched' doesn't fit well with the simile about hornets, as screeched implies something more intense than the buzzing sound that hornets make. You've done this several times, such as "... made fresh wounds..." - maybe could have been 'engraved' or 'cut', as these verbs are more aggressive than 'made' - "It seared with bubbling pain that prickled my mid-knee" - maybe this could be '... that erupted in my mid-knee' to imply a fiercer sense of pain - and "Specks of dirt sliced into my back" - 'specks of dirt' doesn't sound incredibly dangerous, so maybe you could have said 'jagged rocks' or something along those lines.
Also, I think that, although you did a good job in showing the link between the fear of snakes and the fear of being blamed, I think that earlier on in the story this wasn't explained very well, and I only understood the link in the third-last chapter - of course, the problem could just be my slow understanding.
I think that you could have shortened sentences when it came to the actual accident to make it tenser, and maybe you could have included more of the protagonist's thoughts right after the incident, not about the sensations the protagonist was experiencing, but about what the protagonist thought of the accident i.e. who caused it (of course, before the snakes got to him).
Finally, I feel as if the moral support from the protagonist's family/friends was too sudden - I think that you should have had a 'trigger' event - such as a moment earlier on the same day when a family member/friend showed the protagonist love/support - and then you could have had the protagonist remember this event before he was able to overcome the snakes.
Overall, I think that this was a very good story however, despite what I have said about it.
Hey there, ShadeMaster! Congrats on your first post, and welcome to YWS! I'm MJ, here for a quick summary of some strong and weak points of your story. I'll focus mainly on the weak points, but don't be discouraged, since your story is written well and draws me (the reader) in.
This is a slight contradiction to what you said a few sentences above. Previously, you stated that the subconscious mind was navigating the MC, but now you're suggesting that it's protecting? I understand what you're hinting at here, but I would rephrase it so it's along the lines of "In the back of my mind, the childhood warnings my mother had so often given me helped to steer my feet around dangerous situations, but perhaps I paid too little heed to the nagging voice singing its song of danger in my head."The timeline was a little confusing throughout the piece. You start in the middle of some action, and then without any signal that you were going back in time and tracing the path your character had taken, it seemed to jump back and move through that same moment in time when your story had opened. It seemed to be slightly different than the account given at the beginning of the story and is slightly confusing.
You had a lot of long and descriptive paragraphs here, and that can be a turnoff point to a reader. It's intimidating to see a long row of paragraphs all lined up like that with very few breaks for dialogue. Another thing that comes up because of long descriptive paragraphs is the closest thing to a rule in writing there is- show, don't tell. For example, you tell the reader that the MC is afraid of snakes. It would be more convincing to show a snake, even in the MC's imagination, and have the MC react in fear.
I have just a few nitpicks here for specific cases when there was a particular 'error' in your writing, and then I'll be on my way. (By error, I just mean it could be improved in one way or another.)
This is phrased awkwardly, so I would highly recommend a slight change here (maybe something like "While I remembered the constant waiting,. . . .")
This section feels a little too specific. There's no need to go through and list the name of all of his friend when a summary like 'All my friends surrounding me in support'. The long lists here can be slightly boring and deter from the meat of the story.
Overall, your writing style was very eloquent and formal, which made your words come across with an air of professionalism. The mastery of each word and your strong verbs made the story come alive more than if you had used boring verbs and casual adjectives. The storyline was convincing and moving, especially because it became so vivid and alive. You have great writing skills; however, your story ideas may need a little more advancement. I look forward to reading more of your works!
Best wishes,
MJ
Hello ShadeMaster. I'm here to give you a review and I'm just jumping in to the meat of it.
Although your writing style is rather formal here, I don't think I'll be critiquing this because I like the consistency of it.
First of all, there are gigantic blocks of paragraph here. Generally shorter paragraphs are easier to read, especially on the screen. It is a good idea to break them up so that people won't be daunted by the length. You know the length of paragraphs in textbooks?
I'm not a huge fan for the last couple of sentences. It makes me think a lot about a rather preachy story. I prefer to sniff out the theme after a long, thoughtful read instead of it being tossed to you in the last paragraph. The formality of the prose did make me think of an essay actually. If such an incident really happened to you, I hope you're recovering from it (and if it hadn't, sorry for assuming that).
Another issue I have here is: lack of tension. I think this may be caused by the pacing. Majority of the narrative consists of looooong sentences. Too many short sentences equals choppy choppy choppy, but using them in tension-high scenes can boost the tension and action. Readers can digest shorter sentences quicker and move on to the next event, chomping at the bit!
But I'm not sure this advice is very helpful because I feel as if this story is centered primarily around the pain (doubt?) and how the speaker recovered. So before my critique can really help, I want to know whether this is an essay or a story. No offense if this was really intended as a story, but the tone of the story was rather formal. I think that's all I've got to say. Feel free to message me if you want to talk about this; I want to be more of a help than this.