So I'm writing an FullMetal alchemist fanfiction and this is an exert of the first chapter. I posted one before but I decided to scrap it and start again. So here goes.
It's called: Don't cry, the world will never understand.
So today started off like any other. I struggled to find the strength, let alone a reason to get out of bed. Life didn鈥檛 have a purpose to me anymore, after all, what am I? Hayden Applegate. The most diminutive minority in the world, who wouldn鈥檛 be missed by anyone if she was gone.
I looked deep into the mirror sitting before me, studying the face that I knew all too well but seemed to foreign to me. I watched as her hand 鈥?tainted by the strange mark, reached to her face and brushed the long, dark hair from her lifeless eyes; the deep brown orbs holding such a past that I knew no one could ever understand. I held my hand against the mirror, meeting that of my reflections, and tried to imagine that the girl staring back at me was a person trapped behind an invisible wall of all the hate, pity and guilt that I never wanted, but got anyway. The same wall that held me in my own personal hell.
I raised my right hand to my face and examined the unique birthmark I possessed. It was all that covered the repugnant self- inflicted scars that were an everyday reminder that no matter what I did, I would never part from this mark. As I ran my fingers across it I closed my eyes and listened.
鈥業鈥檓 never going to be able to pay these bills-鈥?br>
鈥榃ho鈥檚 going to pick the kids up from school? Judy? No she鈥檚 working late too-鈥?br>
鈥楽he鈥檚 on to me I know it. Act normal John, act normal. I鈥檒l break up with her when the times right-鈥?br>
鈥?***, I killed him! He鈥檚 dead! I can鈥檛 go back to jail. I鈥檒l have to stash the body-鈥?br>
I snapped my eyes open, but didn鈥檛 gasp or flinch; I have heard plenty of thoughts like this. Seems these days I can see when other people鈥檚 lives are too short, but not my own. All my life I鈥檝e been outcast and alienated, condemned to live a life where I have nothing and no one. I can鈥檛 even close my eyes anymore in fear of reliving that hellish night in vivid memory; watching it like a horrifying movie playing infinitely behind my eyelids, that I can never escape, slowly inching me towards the abyss of insanity.
I looked warily at my alarm clock, 12:09 flash brightly in red neon numbers. Another day had started. Another day to put on a mask of feigned happiness and front people like nothing is wrong, that I鈥檓 fine and everything is fine and dandy, when it鈥檚 not. But there are some things you can鈥檛 hide from people no matter how hard you try; looking at me now, compared to three months ago, I had changed dramatically. I鈥檇 grown scarcely thin; my skin had paled into a lucid, translucent colour, my eyes had dropped from the weight of the black bags under them and Trichotillomania had me obsessively pulling my hair out. Insomnia had robbed me of my sleep and the couple of precious minutes of sleep I got were ridden with nightmares of the worst kind...memories. It doesn鈥檛 help that I鈥檓 never in complete peace and quiet 鈥?my mind is always muddled with the minds of others. Sometimes just simple things like thoughts other times riddled with stray images or dreams which caused me to appear detached as I watched.
I stood up. As I walked towards the bedroom door I thought about how this had become such a drawling, time consuming, obsessive ritual. Since the that night, I鈥檝e gone to bed at ten-thirty, fallen asleep at ten-thirty-five, then woken up at eleven-fifty-nine, sharp... the exact time that it happened. I waited for the door to be fully open before I flicked off my light; I always leave the lights on now because believe me, you never know who鈥檚 creeping around in the dark. The only light that could be seen in the house what that of the flickering television; I walked down the stairs on my toes, carful to miss the squeaky floorboards. Sure enough Helen 鈥?my foster Mother 鈥?had fallen into a deep sleep; her hushed snores made me shiver. I don't like her. I don't like the way her short, solid body seemed so intimidating against my tall, slender physique. I don't like the way her voice was loud and commanding, the result of years in the police force. But most of all I hated the way she always makes me feel so guilty for what happened.
So what do you think?
Please answer anybody!! I really need an answer fast! What do you think of this?
If you wrote that yourself, you did a pretty good job. It's very good. I'm guessing you've done this before. It's quite interesting. I really don't know how to write a book or story or w/e %26amp; wouldn't know where to begin. I don't know much about it but clearly you've got what it takes IMO. I just stumbled upon this question %26amp; thought I'd read it. You should definitely keep at it, you're good at it %26amp; should stick with it. I can actually relate to it myself. Not the killing part (lol), but some of the other parts, especially the first few lines. Anyway it was pretty good the whole way through. Not a thing wrong with it. I like the title too. It's interesting %26amp; draws you in.
have a star %26amp; have a nice day :-]
EDIT: Oh btw I forgot to mention there are some minor grammatical errors. Nevertheless it is pretty well written. Overall I would give it a 9.5 out of 10. It is pretty impressive.
