Man I feel terrible(con.)

Well, Im tired, depressed and I have this funny feeling in my chest,lol. This is my terrible free writing


The sun slowly fell into oblivion, night coming closer and closer. A road lay in front of him, trees in a ordered straight pattern on both sides, going on forever. Shadows leaked across the road, leaves rustling in the warm, welcoming air. Thoughts started to pass, remembering the pain and anguish. Even though it had already dissipated, it left scars in his heat. Love, and Hope bleeding through his tissue, out his body onto the warm street. It felt as if everything he had ever loved, lay on the street behind him, ever forgotten.

Feelings of insanity overtook him, wringing optimism from him until his sanity was gone. The whole culmination of his life's work seemed dead and useless. All he knew is that whatever lay beyond this road was not good. It wouldnt matter to him, he is already dead inside.

The continuation is coming soon, very soon, it lingers in the dark waiting to feed....

[edit on 10-8-2006 by nastalgik]

Some feedback could be helpful

yeah,, i like it.
I think alot of people know that feeling... on time or another
Meaningless pointless job. Go home, watch t.v., feel like crap.

My job is awesome, i work at the golf course, 5 hours a week, I can play for free, no tee times rly, and any time, and a nice employee discount on clubs, which is great. Almost everyday i play 18 before i come in. Just sometimes idk, I take things to seriously. And I miss florida alot, moving to the mountains was culture shock

I know all about taking things too seriously, thinking and pondering and over-turning and mentally masticating a thought or feeling to the point that there's nothing left...


I guess, I'd ask a few questions of your story.. Who is he and what does he look like? Is it important to know where he came from? (Obviously the destination isn't all that important -- or is it?) We're getting lots of internal stuff -- Is there any scenes that can help us 'see' what the narrator's feeling? What about the external -- is there anything worth seeing outside? Smells? (..don't forget the physical senses..)

It's a start, but, for me, it leaves more questions asked than answered.. which, to me, says that there's more to the story!


My culture shock was living in Chicago.. I moved away from the city of steel and cement, and am quite content in the mountains.. Altho, I've never been to Florida. What's the difference between the two?

Im not really sure who he is,lol if that makes sense. It was a free write, and i didnt think about a name or anything, writing as I went on. I'll finish the story when I have time

[edit on 10-8-2006 by nastalgik]

The sun slowly fell into oblivion, night coming closer and closer. A road lay in front of him, trees in a ordered straight pattern on both sides, going on forever. Shadows leaked across the road, leaves rustling in the warm, welcoming air. Thoughts started to pass, remembering the pain and anguish. Even though it had already dissipated, it left scars in his heart. Love, and Hope bleeding through his tissue, out his body onto the warm street. It felt as if everything he had ever loved, lay on the street behind him, ever forgotten.

Feelings of insanity overtook him, wringing optimism from him until his sanity was gone. The whole culmination of his life's work seemed dead and useless. All he knew is that whatever lay beyond this road was not good. It wouldnt matter to him, he is already dead inside. The pain continued to plague him as he mushed his way through the endless sea of sludge that was his pain. Vague images became clearer every minute, revealing the story, reminding him of what he had lost. The only person he had ever loved, ever cared for stood in front of him, yet he could reach her. He would move closer and closer, but to no end it continued.

He remembered the people, the ones who showed no respect for anyone, never did anything or cared. He always tried, he was always nice and sincere. It didnt help him in the end. His whole life he had been told it always ended with the old good defeats evil. Pathetic bull# lie. All that exist is pain and sorrow in this world. The heroes are all dead, they had wasted there existence. Whether it was the church, muslims, or anyone else who thought there was a better place, He finnaly figured out that there wasnt one. When he died, there was no happy ending. He was stuck on this wretched earth. Forced to see everything he had loved, die and scream in horrid pain before his eyes. They reached out to him, trying to recieve help. His parents being devoured, his love being killed slowly, but she didnt die. She kept screaming and questioning him admist her pain.

Thinking about it didnt matter, all that was left was dead. His emotions were gone. He could cry, the only thing he could feel was the death. Finnaly he reached his destination. Towers of black stones and bricks overlooked him. A menacing gate opened. It was his first day of school.

Im sure every1 will think im stupid for the ending, but ill make it simple.

Everything he had lost- the freedom of summer, never having to worry. His only love- pretty much fun, same as above. The first day of school ( college or high school) sucks really bad, beacuse you dont know whats going to happen, your nervous and anxious, dont lie, i know every1 is.

hrm.. knowing what the ending is, I've a few more questions.

Assuming that he is not the one driving, can you give us a sight of him? (looking out the window, maybe he sees his reflection? Is he doing anything with his hands -- nervous ticks? How's he dressed -- is he aware or nervous about that?)

'She' being summer vacation -- again, is there anything physical that can relate the idea of freedom/summer/playfulness? someone running, laughing, some activity that he can (maybe?) see someone doing that would trigger the idea of what 'she' represents?

I know that this is a free write.. aren't they all in some form or fashion? The one thing that I find myself thinking is 'slow down and *see* the scene'.. The drive is long, full of thought.. and also terribly short, because when he arrives at skool, the real terror begins.

You don't necessarily have to put an age on him... it's not necessary to the story. But, give us readers some images to see that would cement the ideas you're trying to describe.. (Think of it as a movie.. what would you, the director, put on the screen to show what emotions he's feeling?)


Sorry if this is too much.. I'm used to asking questions of people's stories to key them in on what me, one lone reader, wants to know from the story that may or may not be there.. may or may not apply, depending on what the overall goal of the story is. (And sometimes there isn't.. or isn't right now.. I know. But, I throw my two pennies in the bucket anyhow. )

Im a terrible writer, i know

No, I don't think so..

*I* think *I'm* terrible, but that doesn't necessarily make it so.. (not every day anyhow.. hehe)

The only, and best, way I know of to get better at the craft of story writing is to keep writing, and keep thinking of what else needs to be in the story but isn't being told. Feedback is the best thing any writer has!!!!