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Young Writers Society



Forget Myself

by dreamintechnicolour


Her soul was confined to a dark prison of black eyeliner, guarded by spikes of mascara. Always the same; she wore loose fitting black jeans and a tight black top, always. I had never seen her feet.

She looked at me through the open window. A cool breeze which sent a shiver down my spine.

Her black lips opened, words spilled out, broken and bitter. Why are you running from me? I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.

I slammed the window shut and she was gone.

She couldn’t hurt me here. They told me that I was safe.

Her smell lingered in the room, equal parts Elizabeth Arden and cheap alcohol. I inhaled deeply and felt a nervous tingle sweep my body. Why was she here? Hadn’t she done enough already?

She followed me. Everywhere I went, she went too. It didn’t matter that no one had ever seen her; I knew she was there.

I didn’t know why it was me; I had nothing that she could want. I allowed my mind to trail off. Her face reappearing at the window shocked my concentration back into the room. In her hands was a .45 revolver and she was lifting it, aiming between my eyes.

I stood there, frozen with fear.

She looked at me, square in the eyes and I saw into that captive soul.

I understood.

She was alone. Just like me. Without me, she had nothing. Without her, I had nothing. I knew what she wanted.

She wanted the chance to have Someone. Someone who would notice if she disappeared. Like me, she wanted Someone to care about her. Why had I pushed her away when she was my only chance at having a Someone? How could I have been so blind?

I closed my eyes as she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was deafening.

I threw myself to the ground.

I felt no pain.

Upon opening my eyes, I realized that my padded cell has no windows.


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896 Reviews


Points: 240
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Mon Sep 08, 2008 9:57 am
PenguinAttack wrote a review...



Hey there.

Kay, so you’re right about the plot, it isn’t amazing. But I think maybe if the story was longer you might have something a little more. True, I saw what was coming early on, but with some more description and a little bit more mystery that’ll be all right.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. < Cute. ^^

Her soul was confined to a lonely, dark prison of black eyeliner, guarded by sharp spikes of mascara. < I don’t think you need “lonely”, your imagery should express that by itself. “spikes” in general, sound sharp, so I’d nix the “sharp” here as well. She wore loose fitting black jeans and a tight black top, always. I had never seen her feet. I couldn't decide what type of shoes she would wear. I didn’t usually notice shoes anyway. < Okay. You almost had something here. I don’t think you need the whole bit from “I couldn’t” to “anyway”, I liked that the one sentence “I had never seen her feet” was so exact, so clear. A studded belt was fastened around her thin hips and she had a single, princess cut diamond hanging from a chain on her neck. < Why is any of this important? Yus, so, she’s all dark and oooooh, but it means nothing too us. All we think is “kay, so she’s emo, whatever.” You need to give us a reason to care about what she’s wearing.

She looked at me through the window, which had been mistakenly left slightly ajar. < I don’t like the second part of this line. It’s feels like a tacked on section, only there to make the first section more real to us. Instead it feels odd and out of place to me. There was a cool breeze which sent a shiver down my spine.

Her black lips opened, words spilled out, broken and bitter. Why are you running from me? I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.

I quickly stood and slammed the window shut. < I’m not sure why but I don’t like the “quickly” in this line, I don’t think you need it.

She couldn’t hurt me here. They told me that I was safe.

Her smell lingered in the room, equal parts Elizabeth Arden and cheap alcohol. I inhaled deeply and felt a nervous tingle sweep my body. Why was she here? Hadn’t she done enough already?

She followed me. Everywhere I went, she went too. It didn’t matter that no one had ever seen her; I knew she was there, she was just shy. < I don’t like the “She was just shy” here. I think you can do without it.

I didn’t know why it was me; I had nothing that she could want. I allowed my mind to trail off. Her face at the window shocked my concentration back into the room. In her hands was a .45 revolver and she was lifting it, aiming between my eyes.

I stood there, frozen with fear.

She looked at me, square in the eyes and I saw into that captive soul.

I understood.

She was alone. Just like me. Without me, she had nothing. Without her, I had nothing. I knew what she wanted.
She wanted the chance to have someone. Someone who would notice if she disappeared. Like me, she wanted someone to care about her. Why had I pushed her away when she was my only chance at having a someone? How could I have been so blind?

I closed my eyes as she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was deafening.

I threw myself to the ground.

I felt no pain.

Upon opening my eyes, I realized that my padded cell has no windows. < “had” you’re in past tense.

What you’ll really benefit from is some more description and making the story longer. Make me believe in the lie you’re telling before you tell me it’s a lie. I want to read and think “wow, stalker” and so on, not know what the end will be when I start. I’d suggest looking over this and working out how to expand it to a nice long length, that’ll really help you out.

It has a lot of potential, though. You’ve certainly got something here. If you alter it, contact me, I’d love to read it.

*Hearts* Le Penguin.




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140 Reviews


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Sat Aug 30, 2008 1:39 pm
Sapphire wrote a review...



This gave me goosebumps! The part where she mentions the gun was really creepy.

I could tell from early on that the person wasn't real, but I thought it was her reflection.

I honestly can't criticise much! It was accurately written and I loved your descriptions:

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.

Her soul was confined to a lonely, dark prison of black eyeliner, guarded by sharp spikes of mascara.


Her smell lingered in the room, equal parts Elizabeth Arden and cheap alcohol.


The only suggestion I would make would be to edit this slightly:

The sound of the shot was deafening, but I felt no pain.

I threw myself to the ground.


It's like the gun goes off, the bullet doesn't hit her, then she falls to the floor. She should maybe throw herself to the floor before saying 'I felt no pain'.

Apart from that, well done! A disturbing story.





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