It is twenty-six minutes past eleven. I am nine years old. Sam is round my house today, it’s a Saturday. Saturday the fourth. We have been sitting in my room for thirty five minutes and four seconds; he keeps saying how tidy my room is. I’d never thought of it before, I keep all of my things this tidy. It’s only so I know where everything is, so I can make sure I don’t lose anything. If I lost something there would no longer be (x) objects in my room. This would not be allowed.
I wonder what Sam would think if I told him. I waver slightly and think about telling him. He seems happy to plan a den in my garden. “Sam.” I say very quietly.
He looks up briefly and then continues to plan. “Can I tell you a secret.” I whisper and at this his head snaps up, eyes bright. “Yes.”
I breathe in deeply, looking around at all of my room and my eyes rest on a book, full of numbers. “Sam I count stuff.”
He sniffs, “what like in maths or stuff like biscuits, because I count biscuits.” He looks very uninterested. “Not really like maths, or like biscuits. I count everything.” His eyebrows raise and he sits back.”You do not count everything.”
“No,” I admit, “but I count everything I can.” This conversation lasted three minutes and fourteen seconds.
I don’t count everything, but I do count most things. This was the last time I ever tried to explain it to him,
I think that most people just don’t understand people like me.
(sorry about the x, I will count the objects in my room soon!)
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is forty-three minutes past two. I am thirteen years old. It’s so dark in my room and I’m bloody starving. I can’t remember the last time I ate properly. Suddenly an urge takes over me and I creep downstairs, and in the dull half light of our kitchen, fridge door ajar. I fill myself. Whole spoonfuls of jam, fourteen to be precise, I drink three glasses of full fat milk all at about 250ml. and then six slices of bread. I stop at this moment. I think over what I am doing, I see myself from an outsiders view.
A teenager, barely blooming in loose hung pyjamas that haven’t fitted for months bent over, as if my bones were giving way. A freakish, Gollum like creature that stuffs itself crazy before in a moment of hatred, brings all it has eaten back again. I am disgusting and I realise this. I collapse inwards and cry. I bend over our toilet bowl, gleaming and pristine and so promising. It can hope to rectify all of my mistakes. I can taste the jam, a smudge gone astray. I try to gasp as stomach acid fills the back of my throat, stings in the caress of the small lacerations caused by my eager hand and then the vile dirtiness pours from me to make me pure. It doesn’t happen easily, it never does really. I gag, gasp and cry as I try to fix myself. Normally after such a great failure I would turn to a second punishment too, but tonight I am honestly too tired to hurt myself further. This, rather than to placate me, sends me to my knees again, this time to cry.
Last edited by squirrelspit : 16-08-2009 at 12:15 AM.
Reason: removed tip sharing.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is nine minutes past two. I am sixteen years old.
“Jocelyn. Can you walk to the nurse’s office?” David asks lightly. My eyes are tightly closed and I lean against the cool, rough wall of the girl’s bathroom. I don’t answer; I know I will be sent straight to A&E, these ones are going to need to be stitched.
“Jocelyn.” He says again and again I wonder about how he seems to coat the letters in my name with his honey tones, turn my name such a common thing for me, into a sort of song. “Was this because of me.” He continues. I am taken aback, there is real pain in his voice.
“It’s never for anyone else.” I say forgetting that David might not be privy to the eccentric workings of my mind. “It’s always for me.”
In that moment he paused I worked out two things. Number one, the entire building seemed to be rocking slightly as the little twinkling stars filled my vision and secondly, more importantly, I realised he would never ask me why I did it. He didn’t need to know this time. My thought process was suddenly interrupted by sudden nausea. “David.” I whispered, “I’ve gotta get to hospital, or get hold of a needle and thread.”
I don’t have much of a recollection as to what went on in those next eighteen minutes. I remember flashes of his skin against mine when he lifted me carefully. I remember how he carefully avoided the main crowds of school and how he battered back those who dared to ask why on earth he was carrying some girl who was covered in blood. I don’t remember what followed this; I don’t remember the things he told me afterwards, as he held my right hand tightly when the nurse with an overbite carelessly patched me back together. Somehow in my semi-conscious state I missed him stealing a trolley to carry me in, I missed him nearly knocking down an old woman, I missed him convincing the nurse at the A&E station that calling my parents would not be necessary. But, most disappointingly I missed the moment his lips, soft as anything I had ever felt, brushed over my forehead, in a fleeting kiss.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is three fifty two. I am five years old. We have been visiting Mummy every day for 49 days with an average of 54 minutes spent in her company each day, so a total of 2646 minutes since she changed hospitals or 15860 seconds or even, if you prefer 110 hours and 15 minutes. Which I like, there are a lot of multiples of 5. But today none of those numbers matter; well they matter, but not half as much as the other stuff that is happening today. They are letting Mummy out with us for three hours. I told Daddy we should take Mummy to Sainsbury’s as she would really want to go there having missed so many visits, Daddy wasn’t really listening. He hasn’t been listening to me properly for a while now. He seems really tired all the time and he even forgot to cook me dinner one night and we had to go and get fish and chips which I would normally like but today it didn’t seem special, because we had to go, there wasn’t any real food in our fridge. But, none of it matters because just for three hours I get my Mummy back.
When we picked up Mummy she went to sit in the front next to Daddy but he asked her if she wanted to talk with me for a bit, I tried to talk to her a lot and told her we were going walking, which Mummy really doesn’t like most of the time because she doesn’t like it when all the mud goes up the side of your legs when you walk. But even though Mummy doesn’t like it much the nurses say it will be good for her to get some real fresh air. So we packed up a little picnic and off we went.
But Mummy didn’t seem to like the fresh air. She didn’t talk to me, or Daddy much. We dropped her back and hour later, she didn’t want to stay there with us and she only looked happy again when we put her back into the doors, with the buzzers on either end and we waved her goodbye. When we got back into the car, I sat in the front, Daddy moved my booster seat for me, we’d only started to drive for a minute or two before I started to cry and before I know it Daddy has stopped the car and wrapped me close into his arms, we cried together until neither of us had any tears to cry left.
All I wanted was my Mummy back, just for a little bit and I thought she’d want to be out of that nasty place but really, she liked it. She preferred all those other people to me, and as I thought of the little triangles and hearts shaped sandwiches that Mummy had never even looked at never mind eaten, I wondered again where I’d gone wrong. How many things had I done that made Mummy so sad that she needed to be away from me? I think the reason Mummy needed to have a new baby so badly was that I was just not good enough. I think she wanted a second chance.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
It is nine sixteen. I am nine years old. It’s a Monday morning. Sam isn’t here. I waited for a while and wondered if he might have been late but now I think he might not be coming after all. I wonder why he didn’t think to tell me. There is an empty chair where Sam should be and isn’t. Today we’re doing some comprehension about a man who got lost when he was in the arctic. It’s not half as fun to make up stories and games to pass the time on your own.
Somehow, this is worse than before. Before I didn’t know how good it was to have someone. I mean I don’t want to pretend I never knew Sam, because he’s my first ever friend, but I don’t know how to make it better now he’s gone.
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
Can someone tell me what needs to be done better in this story.
For example is there repetative nature, ignoring one age in favour of another or anything else. (Oh and can it be anything but comments of spelling/punctuation as this has never been proof read, I literally write, copy and paste. :) )
System A
Sophie Mandi Max Gwen Mercy Erin AVA Tracey Bridget My Isaac
