A Little Story of Mine...

[Distant Early Limelight]

Hey,

 

For my media course at college, we are currently looking at fictional writing, and are required to write an extract from a novel of our own creation as part of the module.

 

I'm rather proud of mine, and would like to share it with those who are interested

 

So far I only have the prologue and the beginning chapter of the story finished... I will probably write more as I am enjoying the story I have come up with.

 

I'll post in installments, starting with the synopsis and the prologue...

 

Memoirs of the Mind

 

Synopsis

The story tells of a man who loses his wife to a terminal illness, who – after a number of years – receives a letter from his thought-deceased spouse. This prompts him to go looking for her; questioning both his and her friends and family, embarking on somewhat of a soul-search, before eventually questioning himself and how he treated his wife… Was he as loving a husband as he thought, or does a dark secret plague him? Is his wife really alive, is someone playing a hoax, or is it something deeper…darker?

 

Prologue

The air was cold and still. A sterile atmosphere hovered in the ominous, seemingly never-ending, white corridors – an atmosphere that descended upon those that entered it and slowly winds around their necks – a choking air of tragedy, misfortune and sadness in every breath. No one wished to be there, and none could wait to leave; to escape the turmoil.

 

I was no different.

 

Pacing up and down the icy cold, blank passageways of the hospital, my mind was running on overdrive. Endless pessimistic thought processes running through my head - leaving nothing but a feeling of regret, loss and, ultimately, loneliness, in their wake. The downward spiral of events that had befallen me was a monster tearing away at my very existence. Now I was in the belly of the beast, and it was bleeding to death. Every second that was ticking away seemed to last an eternity – a lifetime until revelations came to light. There was nothing more I wanted to do than walk out of that God-forsaken place at that very moment, but I knew I would not - could not. This was my wife after all; I would be expected to stay.

 

I sat down on a nearby chair, hoping my pacing thoughts would stop with my pacing legs. I was, however, not surprised when the lingering sense of dread only grew with no other task to focus on. My heart was racing almost as fast as my thoughts, and I could feel myself slowly receding further into the bleak darkness of regret and sorrow.

 

The door at the end of the corridor opened, and a doctor slowly walked out of the dimly lit room. He kept his head down as he traversed the passage towards me. I stood, smoothing off my jacket and trousers – doing everything to try and keep my mind off the coming news; prolonging the time until I was told the inevitable. My time was up.

‘I’m sorry…’ the doctor started.

Looking into his eyes, those sorrow-ridden eyes, I gave him a knowing nod. I knew the outcome; I had lost my wife. Kathryn Payne, my wife of eight years, was dead. She was gone now, and nothing could bring her, or those years of happiness, back. Tears welled up in my eyes; the ordeal was beginning to finally register within my mind. With one large breath, I broke down in the chair that only a matter of moments ago seemed to be some form of refuge, and cried. I felt reality come crashing down around me, swallowed up by my own personal hell. Sinking further, I continued to cry.

 

Little did I realise that this was only the beginning.

 

 

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Read, enjoy (or not), and please comment

 

Any criticism is welcome!

[TheRocinanteKid]

That ruled. I did Media Studies as an A Level at college last year and we were never asked to write anything like this... Which is a good point, I never would've gotten a B if we'd have had to do something like this, I suck at creative writing. Anyway as I said amazing stuff, I'm sure this will get you a good mark once it's finished.

[gleamingalloyaircar81]

Good Job!!!

[Choose/the/light]

that was excellent!

[Maestro]

Tres Bien!

[Distant Early Limelight]

Thank you for all the kind words

 

Here's the next installment (so far, all I've got)...

 

Chapter One // Still Life

 

I had that dream again. The blinding white halls, the tension, the regret and the heartbreak. For three years, nearly every night, that dream has haunted my sleep – taking me from the safety of my present and thrusting me right back into the turmoil and suffering of my past; a past I hoped never to relive under any circumstances. I lay there awake in my bed, soaked in a cold sweat that seemed to burn through my skin, staring up at my ceiling – trying to regain my logical train of thought; push my thoughts from fantasy back into reality.

 

Rubbing my sleep-ridden eyes, I sat up. My body recoiling slightly at the feel of the cold wooden floor on my feet, I look at the clock. Four-Thirty. Jesus. I’ve forgotten the last time my sleep has seen past Five AM. I got to my feet, bones cracking as I stretch.

 

I walked into the kitchen and hit the light switch, and was momentarily blinded by the light.

 

That blinding white light…

…Those blinding white halls.

 

Slowly my vision slid back into focus, adjusting to the sudden shift in light. The unearthly blurred shapes that surrounded me morphed from demons into household appliances. I laughed… You would have thought I would be used to that dream after all this time. Surprisingly not. I suppose losing your wife can have that effect on you, however, especially considering the circumstances we were in when I lost Kathryn.

 

I made myself a coffee and sat at the table, milling over my thoughts and the dream. It’s funny, how one moment can stick in your mind above all else. Tiny little impulses in your brain taking you back to the moment where everything comes crashing down on top of you… Goodbye, cruel world – don’t forget to write.

 

Which, I guess, is when I did start to write more. I’ve always been an avid reader and writer, but that one, singular, moments prompted me to scribe all of my feelings into words. Emotions become metaphors of fantastical proportion to the point of where it’s hard to distinguish where the fantasy ends and the real feelings begin. Though there is always that sense of loss and longing. And regret. Always the regret. I sometimes fear that I feel nothing more than guilt – no loss, no longing. Guilt… And it sometimes makes me wish I died along with her.

 

I sighed and lurched forward; one of those sighs that snaps you back to reality as your thoughts wander. My thoughts ‘wandering’ is a bit of an understatement. I took a sip of my coffee and cringed at the bitter coldness of it… It seems my thoughts went wandering for a lot longer than I thought. I looked at the clock – five thirty-five. Time slipping away in endless decaying thoughts seems to be a recurring theme in my life… A still life framed by fractured demons.

[owlswing]

I'd love to read more if you have any...

 

I give 2 thumbs up for what I have read. Reminds me a bit of Nicholas Sparks writing.