>This is my brave post for the Breaking the Rules blogfest happening thanks to Elizabeth Mueller. She challenged us to post first drafts and older pieces that break all the writing rules we’ve learned and cherish.
My contribution is a short short story (the torture won’t last long!) I wrote when I was about 16. I was so proud of it then! Now…well, I learned something from writing it I’m sure.
Reaching for Eternity
Her eyes were glazed over with fear, and a frightened expression dominated her face. No one was watching; no one knew. There were no voices to plea with her; no one to stop her. And yet she could not quite reach the pills. She could see them laying there with a glass of water on the nightstand next to her clock. This was her chance. Yet she could not quite reach the pills.
She thought she had figured everything out. She knew she didn’t have the guts to pull a trigger – she’d never once in her life touched a gun. There had been no easy answer until she’d found the pills. The pills were her answer. At least she had thought so. It wasn’t as easy to take them as she had thought it would be. There were too many thoughts surrounding those pills. What would happen to her family? She could just see her mother going into hysterics when they found her. That made her worry. Would Mom recover? Then her dad. She knew very well that he would never mention her name again, that all pictures of her would disappear, and her room would be left exactly as it was, and locked permanently. Then her sister, Allie, came to mind. She prayed Allie would not find her. It could destroy her life. After all, Allie was only seven. She could suffer horrible emotional damage. She thought about who she wanted to find her. No one in her family, and none of her friends. So who was left? An anonymous policeman who’d never met her, who could forget her easily. But that was asking the impossible.
She looked at the ticking clock. Time was wasting. Trembling fingers picked up a pill. She studied it carefully, and then the clock. Reaching for the glass, she hesitated, and set the pill back down. She breathed deeply, knowing her chance was slipping away. She tried for the pill again, and instead punched her fist into the mattress. Why couldn’t she just pick it up? She had been waiting for the right time, and it had come. Why was she fumbling around?
The hour change, and she knew she either had to act, or give up. Leaning on her side the pills were so near. There was no one to stop her. “Nothing’s preventing you. Do it!” her thoughts repeated. And yet she couldn’t reach them.
Soon a car drove into the garage. In her dimly lit room, she knew what was hers to do. She gave another glance over at the pills that were so out of reach, and walked downstairs.
“Hi honey.” Her parents walked in. She closed her eyes momentarily, and caught her breath.
“Mom. Dad. I have something I need to tell you…”