Doing one last draft of a story I have been working on for many years. Need an opinion on the writing style of it and if it seems like a promising read. Comments and criticism are encouraged and accepted.
Sealed away from the world
Do not read, close the cover
Unless I am no longer of this world
Then, welcome you are-
Take a look, a closer look
Welcome to the story of a troubled mind
“You’re having problems sleeping?”
Among other things.
A visit to the guidance counselor’s office. A hesitant pass through the windowless, closed door. The lesser of two unfortunate choices. The comeback of my haunting dreams calls for a return to my old therapist. A visit to a room where a woman sits writing and picking apart the matter of my mind or a visit to one who will give me advice and clear her thoughts of me following my departure.
I nod when her eyes target me.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Yes, but what other choice do I have?
“The end of the semester is coming- are you worried about not passing any of your tests?”
“Is there anything going on at home? Any family issues or changes?”
She waits for me to meet her stare once more. “Is there anything else- anything you’re having trouble with?”
I shake my head as my mind screams yes.
The counselor leans back in her seat and exhales. She taps her fingers against the desktop.
“How about this- do you like to write?”
I nod slowly, unsure of her point.
“Maybe you should keep a journal. Write down all the thoughts in your head instead of letting them build until they become unbearable.”
A journal lacked the ability to take back the past or change the terrible events into more pleasant ones. It gave no solution to the great problems of the world nor probably even my own.
But what other choice do I have?
A small sound echoes from the other side of the wall. The woman across from me fails to acknowledge it.
“I know you’re not going to tell me everything, but I think it’s best if you-“
A thump comes from the other side of the wall. One then another. My counselor looks towards the wall, slowly standing.
“Excuse me for a minute.”
As she leaves the room, I grab my backpack and search through it. I pull out the first notebook and flip to a blank page near the back.
I guess I can give this a shot.
Now begins the story.
Or just another terrible dream?
Someone help me- someone save me- someone mourn me
When I awoke from my dream, the darkness had greeted me. Red digits emerged from the shadows to remind me the night had yet to pass. Fearful of returning to my demise, I watched the minutes tick away until slumber caught up with me once again.
Or the past?
The bedroom reignites the fear
I feel the presence near.
He stands within the darkness
Lingering with only the silence as witness.
Closer he comes
The distance between us diminishing to none.
“Pretty girl,” he whispers,
Even in my dreams
I can’t fight this terrible scheme.
The door opens and the counselor returns. “Sorry about that. Now where were we?”
The bell rings. I have spent enough time trapped in this room. I let the notebook slide in my backpack and zip it closed. “I should go to class.”
She nods. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
Maybe this was a bad idea.