fan fiction Sunrise

[Aureity 3,055]

An hour ago, I updated my status. I don't feel like copy-pasting, so if you want to know the inspiration for this story, there it is.

I can't believe it took me an hour to write this short intro. I feel like a bad writer...

Please let me know what you think, and all the ways I can improve it.

 

 

 

It's been like this for as long as I can remember. Work. Sleep. Eat. The routine is as dull and gray as the life I'm forced to live. Every time, as I throw on my faded blue jacket and prepare to go to work and earn the sustenance I need to continue my miserable life, I glance out the window, towards the desolate landscape. It's always the same. To some lucky bastard in a better state than me, the view might have held some promise. But all I see are the same old melancholy, lifeless buildings. The same old badly worn-out roads littered with potholes. The trash on the street, the broken, faded sidewalks. Just a reminder of what my life was like now. I fail to notice the morning dew on the lawn grass. I never stop to consider the lush green forest that expanded just to the east of my house. I never look up and smile at the beautiful sunrise. The world is dead to me.

 

It wasn't always this way.

 

I hardly remember it now in my hazy memory, but there was a time when I used to feel joy. Life used to hold a spark of happiness for me. All I had to do was suffer through school. School was painful. Every second I spent there, I was picked on by bullies. I wasn't nearly as strong as they were, and I would always be forced to give them what they wanted. Usually my homework. I had no friends in school. I was too socially awkward to try to make any. Every time someone approached me, I would look up. My mouth would form the word “Hi.” But my voice just wouldn't say it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't. They must have thought I was mute. And so I would sit alone at lunch every day. I would always be the person not picked in gym class. The last to know the homework assignment, or the date of the next exam. I was always alone as I walked the halls of my school, from the moment I opened the doors to the moment I slammed them shut. But none of that mattered. The spark still existed.

I would run all the way back home from school each day. I distantly remember yanking open the rusty screen door, where I would always be greeted by a warm smile from my mother. She would embrace me, and ask me how the day was going as I threw my backpack on the chair. I scarfed down the delicious food she always served for dinner, so that I could rush upstairs and lose my troubles on the internet. I would always sneak in an hour or two of video games. Listen to music, watch a few videos. The internet was life to me back then. I loved every second I had on it, from the moment I heard the satisfying click of the power surge turning on, to the very second I flipped the switch back off and retired to my bed, my head filled with random junk. Happy days like those are just a fleeting memory now.

Then one day, I walked home from school, just like any other day. I was already prioritizing the order of homework that I would do. The same sun that blinds me now shone on and warmed me back then, as I carefreely dashed all the way back to my house. I had gone through the entire day without being shoved into a locker, and I was anticipating what I would be doing on the computer that day. As I skidded to a halt in front of my driveway, I was greeted by a police officer. It was that man who changed my life forever.

“Your mother died in a car crash today. She was out shopping for groceries, and was hit from behind by a pickup truck.”

 

The spark flickered. And died.

 

With her went my entire world. I finally understood. The internet kept me company, but she held my life together. After her death, my world fell apart. I had to drop out of school to feed myself. I had no money to pay the phone bill, let alone the internet. My computer still sits in my room, gathering dust. I should just be thankful the mortgage was paid off years ago, back when my dad was still alive. He died when I was just an infant. “Cancer,” said the death report in small black letters.

Which brings me back to the present. My life is devoid of any excitement, any happiness. I don't understand why I'm still alive. From the moment I leave my house in the morning to the moment I trudge back in with my daily paycheck, fumbling for the switch to turn on the overhead lightbulb, it's all just the same sad memories swirling around my brain. It's not that I haven't considered suicide. But there's just a feeling that I always get when I turn the blade of a kitchen knife around, wondering how quickly I could end my troubles. A feeling that someday, I could help someone out. There has to be a meaning to my existence, doesn't there? That thought motivates me to keep breathing, keep moving. Every day I stare out the window, looking for something, anything. But the results are always the same.

 

I am alone.

Edited February 5, 2012 by Aureity

[Java Jive 440]

An hour ago, I updated my status. I don't feel like copy-pasting, so if you want to know the inspiration for this story, there it is.

I can't believe it took me an hour to write this short intro. I feel like a bad writer...

 

Dont feel bad about that. Finding a good start, is probably one of the biggest hurdles you'll encounter as a writer and that takes some thinking and time. Just like art, the first stroke of a paintbrush determines the rest, and then it will keep rolling.

 

I love your intro, i dont know where you're going with it, but it's a good, deep start.

Edited February 5, 2012 by JavaJive