Awesome A Short Story Forum

This piece is quite long and I have been playing with this along time and the story is well kind of involved but here is just a little bit for some criticism

The dark road to nowhere, it’s the enclave of sounds, of busy, of people, of terror. I’m just driving along with thoughts of horror, misguided perceptions, and the paranoia of the shadow people looming over you around every bend. Otherwise, for the sake of me it is the guarantee of the freedom, the wildness of the wind will always hold the sand in the air. It is times like these it is dear to hold thoughts of better days. Sometimes, this instant, I was awakened in a dark room, alone, traveling down this highway from my bed. “Where am I in this horrid land of two rivers?” Possibly placed a strewn across this hellish countryside, or in the city, amongst men, brutal men, skilled at destruction. However all the same I keep trucking on.
Like a fish trapped in a tank does not know anything is wrong it is just aware of its space, in the invisible cage I too am aware of my space, a prisoner in my own brain. This place a place I know of many evil deeds, a place I know the sun spews a hellish inferno onto these people… I can see them through my truck window, I too am sweating. It is not so much the encore of human suffering so much it is the absolute loneliness of one trying to find their true self. Some days it may just be the simplest of human deeds and consideration that will allow me to remember, I may be isolated inside myself but I am not alone but surrounded, and these people affect me. None the less it could just be as fatal to open the truck window. The longing of absolute freedom is as compelling as one trying to cool off out here with a blow dryer. The truth is neither exist, it is only me.
The seeds of origin and the answers to existence are implanted within the consciousness inside all of us. It is imperative to lose the world around you to understand the one you want to be a part of. To unlock the truth about our exisistance begins here in this muddled dream living in the desert amongst strangers.
Is this real? As I awaken by the sound of rain droplets cascading down my bedroom window. I open my eyes to see only myself as a third person figurine still lying in his bed. These dreams, the many less than infallible scenes saw only by the window in my soul…, they bleed.
From my slumber every night I painfully pull these splinters from my brain. Where does this come from, and why can’t I remember? The rain droplets running down the window, I can feel their cool, revitalizing, streams running down my face like little creeks or tributaries from heaven, I can at least imagine through the glass. Where am I? Or as I see it where is he?
As the doctor and nurse stare at this broken man through the observation window inside the intensive care unit the lead nurse Jenny asks Dr. Philips,”Doctor, do you think he is aware of what happened to him?”
The doctor pondered the question for a brief moment and retorted with,”no one really knows what goes on in the psyche of the human mind especially after all the trauma that this man has sustained, however I am not completely convinced that he is totally unaware of things and that perhaps outward stimulus will affect what goes on in his subconscious.”
The hospital lay as a depression in the hearts and minds of all who amply stumble through its doors all with different degrees of ailments, pain and misery. For some it gives a beacon of hope to others it will be the last place they will ever see. The walls are painted of a smooth mint green as pale and plain as the horse rode by death himself. The hallways and rooms all smell of anti-septic and floor wax, it’s a slightly lemon scented disinfectant that brings back memories of childhood doctor visits and gives one the sense of all the pain locked within these corridors. The entire patient and staff body milled around going about their business some concerned about health others about their next pain med fix all but one that is. A police investigator sat outside a room in the ICU, Detective Jax Irving sat there on the bench pondering the task ahead of him. Detective Irving sat on the hard blue plastic bench outside his ”new arrival’s” room reviewing his case file taking a moment to notice the smeared reflection of the florescent lights on the floor especially paying attention to the orange distorted exit sign at the corner of the hallway.
This has been the fourth robbery murder in the past six months, the MO has it pegged to similar to be a coincidence, fortunately this time these bastards #ed up and left this poor bastard alive. Jax sat there with the crisp and new addition to his case file awaiting the doctor to show up and brief him on this John Doe that he now stands over.

reply to post by Brotherman


Alright, that was really good. I am just a bit confused... tbh.

I start reading and I am thinking wow, this is how I feel too...then it seems to switch to this story of a guy in the hospital. Which that part is awesome and I do like the details given and it left me wondering and wanting more. So is the first part explaining that guys thoughts thats in the hospital? Hope im making sense..hah

I do enjoy your writing style
~nat

reply to post by natalia


Its alot more involved then just that only i do a poor job showing it all in that little bit I have close to 184 pages of typed material covering this. the jist is a normal guy lived a strenuous life he was a veteran, then a construction worker, homeless, an alcoholic and then he falls victim to a random act of violence. It doesnt present an identity of the main protagonist simply because society the police and the hospital cannot identify him forensically because he was beaten and burned alive he is just john doe. The story follows between him being trapped in a subconcious world in and out of drug fueled pain killers, people reading to him in his sleep, trying to wake from his coma and in his mental state he relates as though he is dead and between either heaven or hell or feels like hes asleep but cannot wake up etc etc. so he is literally between the physical world and how he mentally deals with it in his coma and also alludes to how society is handling the situation. Its a story about being alone and lost, and thank you for taking the time to read it

reply to post by Brotherman


Well that sounds very interesting. I really did enjoy what you presented. Thanks for explaining more of the story to me I love reading. I mainly read Stephen King, or Dean Koontz. I have been trying to read other books, but they just don't catch me like a King book. I also read poetry books

Do you just write stories or do you ever dabble in poetry?
~nat

reply to post by natalia


...It was another American summer in 2009, the air all around was warm and teeming with life and the smells of summer and all its glory lingered in the air. The orange and pink glow of the sky hangs loosely in the heavens like a cradle to put the sun to rest after another long day. The sun dances through the matriarch of leaves and branches, it creeps up the lawns and to the doors of all the houses in the land almost wishing all occupants a good night. The last of the children are returning home from the park as the eprovescent colors of the dull blues and whites being to pour out from the street lamps all around them. It was another ending to a beautiful day...

I try to use aspects of poetry in my writing although I am not a poet by interest

reply to post by Brotherman


Well that was beautiful Those words flowed, and poetry of course doesn't have to rhyme. That was really nice imagery you laid out. I could see the sunset. I love sunsets. My friend loves sunsets too and he has a perfect spot he can go to up on a nice big hill and watch the sun slowly rise down in all its beauty.

Thanks for sharing that as well. Very nice

~nat

reply to post by natalia


thats a part from the piece in the OP only Im not disclosing anything other than that maybe when I get some more of the important things fleshed out to where I like them and want to share I will email you the thing in its entirety and you can read it

reply to post by Brotherman


You paint a fantastic word picture. I like your description, your attention to detail. I would encourage you PLEASE to continue!

reply to post by Brotherman


Brotherman! you're onto something here buddy. You have a way of encapsulating a characters mentality from fluctuations of critical objective reality and then right back into an almost surreal sensational sense of subjective recollection. However I say this with my mentality in mind as I read the extract of your story. You have remarkable writing talent and you will definitely appease a rather niche network of enthusiastic readers. Read down on some of your replies and you seem to have a solid plot structured and I must say I am rather intrigued as to how this epic saga will turn out for the main character. I urge you to continue manifesting your creative ideas into tangible pieces of inspiration in both the arts and literature for the ones who seek deeper into the realms of thought.

Good things

reply to post by beezzer


There is so much more that goes with this only I haven't had the time to really refine the rest like I have the first page alone, I have more then 180 pages written all which needs to be honed and sharpened, most of this just poors out of me raw and then I have to go back and make it refined its a strange process I know what I am writing about but its not like how it is presented comes planned the best description for me is I am writing a description of pictures I see in a way. Thank you for taking the time to look at this Beezzer I really do appreciate it!

reply to post by Brotherman


My pleasure. Since you are generating a lot, perhaps you should look at getting an editor. They are brutal but well worth it. I had one that my agent recommended at didn't realize at the time that she (retired school teacher) was actually a Nazi prison guard! ( :loll: )

reply to post by beezzer


Im not sure how long it will take me to self review before I send to someone to edit its just a little awkward for me I guess because I never thought about writing seriously so I tend to not only be a little shy but also very slow because I am not to sure of what it is I should be doing. To be honest maybe I should post pics of all the pages I hand wrote first because it very much reads and looks like something you wouldnt find in a book I know of hell some of it is written on newspapers and magazines that inspired me to help connect a verbal image of picture(s) I see in my head. For me it is kind of absurd that I am an artist that lacks the ability to illustrate the clarity of what I am trying to convey with this piece, to me it is half painted in my mind and half heard in another corner up there somewhere its even surreal to me. I will try though.

reply to post by FreeThinkerbychoice


Thank you for the analysis, to be honest this is actually just the first page and a half that I finally started refining I have been working on this since 2007 I have so much content that I need to work on but I was never really in a writer mindset it just kind of happened this way and Im not really sure what Im doing other than really trying to describe something I see based on an Idea I have clarity over it is actually quite frustrating it really is i just put this first piece out to see what others may have to say about it.

****FROM MUCH LATER IN MY NARRATIVE****
note: I am not into this type of thing dont know much more then your run of the mill english classes you recieve high school/ generic bachelors classes so this will be sporadic as I edit and refine pieces that I feel should be done first when its clear in my head to do.


... I can feel the gnashing of thousands of claws ripping me into the abyss. The darkness is overwhelming, I don't need the light anymore to see the frequently traveled path down, I'm taken by force. My body will not sweat to cool, the heat intensifying all around me. I can only feel the boiling of my own blood crusting on the surface and cracking my skin like the baked desert floor I am all so familiar with from the war. I can see the glow of orange emanating at the bottom (or is it the top) It looks so far away and feels so close by, I begin to feel the rotten feelings of fear and ultimate despair, it... feels... so... bad, I'm so afraid.
I stand before a factory a horrid place run down and destroyed, its so empty. The scorched bricks are reminiscent of a building I once saw in the holocaust museum. This place smells of death and fire perpetuated by the darkness of perpetual night. I approach a doorway and it creaks open..., to my horror I discover a dis-assembly factory of the body and soul. This is where they strip the soul from the flesh.

Originally posted by Brotherman
reply to post by FreeThinkerbychoice

 

Thank you for the analysis, to be honest this is actually just the first page and a half that I finally started refining I have been working on this since 2007 I have so much content that I need to work on but I was never really in a writer mindset it just kind of happened this way and Im not really sure what Im doing other than really trying to describe something I see based on an Idea I have clarity over it is actually quite frustrating it really is i just put this first piece out to see what others may have to say about it.

Well continue to refine it till you feel comfortable putting it out there. You definitely have writing talent, that's for sure. If I was you id even send a copy to some publishers, when you feel you've worked out the kinks that is

I decided to make a thread and just start posting as much of this content out there as I have a chance to refine and work with my raw material this thread I have posted sporadically so in this one here

Moving towards a more holistic view on my piece

You can read more of it in its entirety and I will be updating new sections as I self review the material and translate my hand written text into digital format