April 29

lilredridinhood

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This was a story I wrote back in my soph. year of English- i'm retyping it so there's bound to be mistakes and whatnot.

What is a ghost? most people define a ghost as a soul that has passed away but wanders around the earth still. i guess you can call me a ghost. i am, after all, no longer alive. you see, daddy molested me when i was four, and continued doing so every Wed. night at exactly 8 pm. so as a result of that, the psychologists labeled me as "messed up in the mind." "border line personality disorder" they called it. Basically, they said that my moods switch without warning, i analyze everything, and "selfmedicate with alcohol." Physically hurt myself, then feel guilty.
what a shame.
seeing it all down on paper is different than hearing it. back when i was diagnosed with bpd, i thought the psychologists were full of baloney, but now when i look back on everything, i realize the psychologsits were right. In addition to my father molesting me, i was also an alcohol addict my age seven, and i was also taking drugs. i can't even name all the drugs i was on. any kind you had, i'd take it. to get the money for the drugs, i prosititued. through the years, i contracted three different stds, it was an awful period of my life. at school, i failed every class possible and even beat up a teacher when she said i couldn't use the bathroom. due to that, i went to jail for a year, which opened my eyes to reality. in jail, i couldn't do drugs, so i went through a painful period of withdrawals. i would throw fits and do anything possible for a high, even if it was just ether from a hairspray bottle that someone got a 5 finger discount on. gradually, i started getting off my addicton to drugs and started straightening up my life. seeing all those girls with so much hatred inside them in that country jail woke emup and i cleaned up my act.
when i got back home, i told my mther about my father's molesting. she filed charges and we went to jail for 20 years. it was a tough time for us because we became homeless since she couldn't afford the rent alone. still, it felt good that my mother believedme, that she wuld risk everything just to make sure i was safe. after abt a month, she found a good paying job as a secretary for a doctors office, wemoved into a $200 per month apartment in the slums, but it was something to start off with. i started school at RVH, which was on the other side of town, in the "rich" area. I had to repeat my senior year since I was in jail. I threw myself into my studies as an effort to stay clean. to my amazement, i was elected hc queen, and joined the cheerleading squad. that was the best 3 months of my life since i had been 4.
I guess you're wondering how I became to be a mere walking dead. let me tell u abt my brother, i havent tlked abt him so far. i have a twin brother Verdes, that i met when I was 13. Veredes was my everything, the one that would give me the advice i needed, the one that really helped me when i was trying to stay clean. When i was elected HC queen, he actually cried tears of happiness. that night he told me his one dream growing up was to see me truly happy.
on april 29, we went to a party at my girlfriends place. on the way there he explained a dream to me. he told me he dreamt of a brown bubble, and i was chasing it, trying to pop it. it floated away and i started to crya nd looked at verdes, saying, "im sorry brother, it got away." i drove on silently, pondering what that could mean. Out of the blue, he asked "what color are ur eyes?" I tld him to loko in them for himself, "brown..." was his reply. they were emerald green! that puzzled me for a while but i just brushed it aside. he was probably just kidding with me.
when we arrived at the party, the music was blaring and everyone was drinking. verdes knew it was aganist my AA rules so he personally brought me my own drink and everything to curb my tempatations. I have to admit, i was terribly tempted several times that night. verdes got a bit out of congrol. he told me he was going outside for a while and he'd be back in five. an hour later, i started to get a funny feeling, and went outside to look for him. the front lawn was deserted, and i started to panic. where could he be? if anything happened to him, i couldn't live with myself. frantically searching, i spotted his orange jacket lying by the rails of a bridge on the road about 100 feet away. is he ok? i started running towards him and as i got closer, i had the cold realization that he was dead. When I got to him, overcome with sobs, i knelt down and felt for a pulse, for any sign he was alive. his friend, Michael, came running up from the opposite side, swaggering and laughing. my fear of losing my brother quickly turned into rage at this man who dared laugh, and i charged at michael. knocking him to the ground, i hit him with all my might and demanded to know what happened to verdes. he started blabbering something about a joy ride, his dad's car, and a telephone pole. i told him to go inside and call 911 before i changed my mind about letting him live. verdes was dead. i couldn't live without verdes.
soemthing, ANYTHING would do. i looked under the bridge, ther ewas no water, just rocks, so it hought maybe i could climb a tree and jump. that wouldn't do, it wasn't high enough. verdes had a pocketknife that he cherished, he carried it everywhere he went. i searched his jacket, conscientiously, as to not disurb his body. i foudn it, and i climbed the tree with it in my mouth. shakingly standing up, i wrapped my hands around the knife, and shoved it into my stomach. anagozing pain turned into a calm darkness as i fell.
i woke the next morning in my bed and wondered how i got there. i went into the kitchen and saw my mother crying at the table, with a picture of verdes and i in her hands. i walked over, and told her that it was going to be ok, that i wouldn't let anything happen to the two of us. she seemed to not be listening to me, so i just stroked her hair. she sat up straight for a minute and looked peaceful. "mom, i'm here... talk to me." i pleaded. she closed her eyes and muttered a prayer and thanked god. She put on her jacket and headed out to the car. i quickly followed her, arriving at her minivan before she did. i tried jiggling the door but it seemed like i was hving no contact with it. i waited until she opened the back door as she always did to put her purse in the back seat. when she did, i quickly climbed in. as she started the car, i explained everything that happened at the aparty, from the second that we arrived to the second that i juimped. my mother seemed not to be listeneing to me, which exasperated me. when we arrived at the hospital, i realized she was going to the morgue to verify that it was verde's body. a tear rolled down my cheek. at tht moment i felt what she was feeling. grief, a member of our family dead. how are we supposed to go on? she went into the elevator and pushed the 23rd button. i stood there baffled, trying to figure out why seh was going up there and not to the basement, where the morgue was. inside was verdes, his leg in a cast, eating the hospital food. ir ushed over, relived that he was still alive after all. my mother sighed, and told him that betty boop, which was my nickname, didn't make it. verdes started crying, his eyes closed. i screamed to my mtoher that i did make it, i was right here in front of her. i went out the open door and kicked a trash can. a few minutes passed and i realized that the trash can should have fallen or i should have had a painful reaction to it. i shrugged off the thought, thinking that maybe i was just in shock. my mother walked out of the room and i followed her, she pushed the elevator button to the basement.
wait a minute... verde lived. so why was she going to the basement? curiosity possessed me so i followed her down the hall. we came upon sliding doors, with the words, 'MORGUE' in black. a rugged man wearing a white lab coat greeted my mother. he shook her hand, asking her name. "elisabeth stottlemyer' was her response. 'ah, yeah, we have her here, its not a pretty sight so i'd rather you not look at her,' he sighed. my mother looked at him with a blank face, 'she's my daughter, i need to see.' mom.. im ur daughter. who's this you're talking about?
the guy led her to a cabinet, and polled out a body covered with a white sheek. my mother gasped and motioned for him to uncover this person. the blakent was pulled and there laid a pretty girl. well, u cld tell she used to be pretty. she actually kind of resembled me; we had the same eye shape, the same lips, same birthmark, same scar over our left eyebrow, and even the same earrings. my mother sighed, and muttered "amelia.. my little ameila.." i said 'mom.. i'm here.' looking back down at the body, i almost gagged.
thats me down there! my god, what happened? everything went black all of a sudden. i woke up on the living room couch. how did i get here? my brother was sitting by the fireside, looking at a picture of the two of us at homecoming. i told him to go to the computer so i could tell my story. slowly standing up, he wiped his eyes and walked across the room. sitting at our imac, he opened it to microsoft world.
without a thought in his head, he put his fingers on the keys and typed "what's a ghost? most people define a ghost by a soul that has passed away and wanders around the earth. i guess youc an call me a ghost. i am, after all, no longer alive.'




sorry for all the typos. :-D
 
Surely you possess the skills of being a story-teller...now that I've seen a couple of your poems and this short story, have you ever considered pursuing in getting any of your poems or what stories you may have already written published? I tend to be able to recognize anyone who possess such phenomenal talent such as I think you do...another member here I have noticed that indeed does write superbly is Malfoyish...writing stories...of course, there are several others here and elsewhere that do have the keen skills to become a good writer! Again, I must say this was a 'good read'! :thumb:
 
thanks :) no I haven't tried to get anything published, although 1 of my essays was placed in the gally essay contest last spring
 
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