Young Writers Society

This is a very embellished personal narrative I wrote for creative writing. Please critic (don't hold back). Thank you.

I stare in disbelief as people speak of their deaths. They joke, no, they brag about their ordeals; about the knives that were imbedded in their chests and the toxins that were forced down their throats. I stare and, as they speak, wonder; have they yet experienced the penultimate death, the moment at which you lose your immortality? Even now I tremble as I struggle to stem the effects…

What a plain object a bunk bed is, with its dull wood and fleeting comfort. To a child, however…

NO! Dying is bad enough but do I really have to relive it? Perhaps listening to the conversations around me will help (you know, take my mind off of things)…

… it’s an object of curiosity. To climb those ladders was to scale a mountain and as little hands fell on each rung…

SANTA CLAUSE! He (my friend) is talking about the day he found out that there was no Santa Clause. He was sad at first but then he realized that he’d just learned one of adult’s many secrets (you know how adults always used to hide things from us). People laugh as he goes on to say that he found out when he was 10 years old. I join in. What better way to occupy your mind than laught – Is that a robe I hear fluttering?

…a sense of accomplishment grew within me and, as I pulled my self onto the springy mattress, a wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyes began to sag. Open, close, open, close…

WAKE UP! I yell to my self. I shake my head and strain my ears. I look over at another one of my friends as he gestures adamantly. What is he talki…Oh, that, I definitely remember that. He’s talking about the day he realized that girls didn’t have cooties. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relieved. You see, there was this cute girl in our class and – Why the heck is it so cold?

… I looked down from the bed and my eyes widened despite the familiarity of the sight. A smile crossed my face and an idea began to form. I would jump from the bed and soar to the smooth floor. This idea enthralled me. I could already feel the empty air that would flow beneath my feet and the inertia that would turn my stomach. I…

FOCUS! All I have to do is focus on the conversation. A sudden chill overtakes me. I can’t hear what they’re saying? My skin moistens and my shirt starts to cling. It’s impossible, their lips are moving but I can’t hear any – A bell’s soft chime drifts to my ears. Faint as it is, I can’t help but put my hands to my ears. The soft chime begins to morph. It becomes higher and deeper. Higher and deeper. Until, the soft chime transforms into a full blown peal. Should this much noise be mesmerizing? I struggle to stay awake but my vision starts to blur. I collapse. A strange gleam appears in the corner of my eye and, despite my drowsiness, a faint sensation tightens my thro - Why am I sad?

…bent my knees and sprung from the bed, anticipating the ecstasy of flight, but a wooden block caught my chest and ripped open a bloody brand. The searing pain burnt away my child’s wonder and my eyes widened as, on my way down, I felt burning steel wrap around my legs and saw skeletal hands reach toward my throat…

---Ohi D.