FA+
Shop
364
Views
Views
0
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50
File Size 17 kB
Report this content
More from Laces
The Red Recycling Bin
Megan sat at the kitchen table, sifting through the junk mail and picking out the coupons that had stuffed her mailbox. She had gotten back the day before from a long vacation to Italy. She had enjoyed her time there as much as a prisoner in a jail cell. She hadn't really enjoyed her little field trip because it was there that she saw something that did not make sense, not in the kind of puzzling way that made you ache to understand; instead, she felt like she never even wanted to see that thing, she never wanted to be touched by it again. She had never wanted to forget something more in her life.
It was a sunny day in Sicily, it was a nice weather, not too hot, not too cold, the kind of perfect weather that would be rare in any part of the world. Megan found her way through the streets until she found the museum “Archeologico Regionale.” It was a nice museum, she found it very appeasing.
When Megan went outside in search for a restaurant, it was around 1 o'clock. She threw herself in a chair at the closest place and ordered. Looking around, she spotted something down the street. It appeared to be a fire hydrant, but what everyone else seemed to ignore was that it was in the middle of the street and it was purple. Megan looked away for a second, ignoring it temporarily, figuring that it was normal since no one else was noticing it.
The food came and went, the bill was paid, and Megan was on her way. She took a look back toward where she had seen the hydrant; it was no longer there. She was perplexed, inanimate objects did not just get up and move to another location. Her eyes swept the area and happened upon it again, this time, it was only about thirty feet away. Her eyes widened, it didn't make sense. She saw the purple, but now there was a mix of blue, red, orange, yellow and all the other colours you could think of. They swirled. They moved in on each other, ate one another, produced more of the colours, then ate those, creating a never-ending colour-spawning frenzy. As well as that, this object seeming to move forward, inch by inch. She did not need to think, she got up and ran the opposite way, a look of panic showing all over her body and in her movements.
Turning right, she tripped and fell onto her side, rubbing at her thigh to try and numb the pain. She glanced up and saw the hydrant a foot in front of her. She tried to scream, but a tentacle-like thing had wrapped itself around her head and mouth, all that would come out was a muffled squeak. For a few minutes, she sat there, staring at the colours, and then it threw itself on her like a puddle. She could scream then. She screamed and shrieked like a banshee, throwing her arms everywhere and hoping against hope that she would break free. Then she passed out.
When she regained consciousness, she found herself in a white room. For the next month, she sat in there, seeing the purple fire hydrant every once in awhile and screaming when she did. When they finally declared her sane enough to leave, she went back home.
Here she was, now thinking about that warm yet cold feeling that the hydrant brought on. She stared at the corner for a few minutes, then picked up all her mail and went outside. Megan threw everything into her recycling bin and closed the lid.
That's when she saw the fire hydrant, the purple one, and understood that it was never going to end. She fell down and backwards into the side of her house.
“NO! YOU WERE GONE! YOU WERE GONE FOR SO LONG! PLEASE, NO!” she screeched, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
From inside of the recycling bin came a cacophony of voices, while deep, red blood flowed out and over the sides of the recycling bin, painting it maroon red.
“You killed us! We were good coupons but no, you had to throw us away, and now we're dead!”
Megan started to cry, the purple fire hydrant now five feet away.
“GO AWAY! THE WHITES ARE COMING NOW, AREN'T THEY? AND ALL OF YOU, THE CATS AND NAILS INCLUDED WILL TURN THEM RED, NOW WON'T YOU? I'LL SHOW YOU THE BLUE BUT THE RED, THEY'LL COME. THEY'LL TAKE ME AWAY TO THEIR RED ROOM AND FEED ME RED PILLS! NOW FLY AWAY BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Megan was found laughing softly, her throat raw and claw marks along the sides of her face. She was institutionalized and never seen again in public.
Ya, just had to write something about a crazy...so, I just wrote for 2 hours, springing on ideas, then throwing them out, until I came up with this. Please comment, personally, I think this came out very nicely...
Megan sat at the kitchen table, sifting through the junk mail and picking out the coupons that had stuffed her mailbox. She had gotten back the day before from a long vacation to Italy. She had enjoyed her time there as much as a prisoner in a jail cell. She hadn't really enjoyed her little field trip because it was there that she saw something that did not make sense, not in the kind of puzzling way that made you ache to understand; instead, she felt like she never even wanted to see that thing, she never wanted to be touched by it again. She had never wanted to forget something more in her life.
It was a sunny day in Sicily, it was a nice weather, not too hot, not too cold, the kind of perfect weather that would be rare in any part of the world. Megan found her way through the streets until she found the museum “Archeologico Regionale.” It was a nice museum, she found it very appeasing.
When Megan went outside in search for a restaurant, it was around 1 o'clock. She threw herself in a chair at the closest place and ordered. Looking around, she spotted something down the street. It appeared to be a fire hydrant, but what everyone else seemed to ignore was that it was in the middle of the street and it was purple. Megan looked away for a second, ignoring it temporarily, figuring that it was normal since no one else was noticing it.
The food came and went, the bill was paid, and Megan was on her way. She took a look back toward where she had seen the hydrant; it was no longer there. She was perplexed, inanimate objects did not just get up and move to another location. Her eyes swept the area and happened upon it again, this time, it was only about thirty feet away. Her eyes widened, it didn't make sense. She saw the purple, but now there was a mix of blue, red, orange, yellow and all the other colours you could think of. They swirled. They moved in on each other, ate one another, produced more of the colours, then ate those, creating a never-ending colour-spawning frenzy. As well as that, this object seeming to move forward, inch by inch. She did not need to think, she got up and ran the opposite way, a look of panic showing all over her body and in her movements.
Turning right, she tripped and fell onto her side, rubbing at her thigh to try and numb the pain. She glanced up and saw the hydrant a foot in front of her. She tried to scream, but a tentacle-like thing had wrapped itself around her head and mouth, all that would come out was a muffled squeak. For a few minutes, she sat there, staring at the colours, and then it threw itself on her like a puddle. She could scream then. She screamed and shrieked like a banshee, throwing her arms everywhere and hoping against hope that she would break free. Then she passed out.
When she regained consciousness, she found herself in a white room. For the next month, she sat in there, seeing the purple fire hydrant every once in awhile and screaming when she did. When they finally declared her sane enough to leave, she went back home.
Here she was, now thinking about that warm yet cold feeling that the hydrant brought on. She stared at the corner for a few minutes, then picked up all her mail and went outside. Megan threw everything into her recycling bin and closed the lid.
That's when she saw the fire hydrant, the purple one, and understood that it was never going to end. She fell down and backwards into the side of her house.
“NO! YOU WERE GONE! YOU WERE GONE FOR SO LONG! PLEASE, NO!” she screeched, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
From inside of the recycling bin came a cacophony of voices, while deep, red blood flowed out and over the sides of the recycling bin, painting it maroon red.
“You killed us! We were good coupons but no, you had to throw us away, and now we're dead!”
Megan started to cry, the purple fire hydrant now five feet away.
“GO AWAY! THE WHITES ARE COMING NOW, AREN'T THEY? AND ALL OF YOU, THE CATS AND NAILS INCLUDED WILL TURN THEM RED, NOW WON'T YOU? I'LL SHOW YOU THE BLUE BUT THE RED, THEY'LL COME. THEY'LL TAKE ME AWAY TO THEIR RED ROOM AND FEED ME RED PILLS! NOW FLY AWAY BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Megan was found laughing softly, her throat raw and claw marks along the sides of her face. She was institutionalized and never seen again in public.
Ya, just had to write something about a crazy...so, I just wrote for 2 hours, springing on ideas, then throwing them out, until I came up with this. Please comment, personally, I think this came out very nicely...
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 17 kB
Oh dear, where do I start? First off, I think there's a lot of potential here. I find the idea behind it rather interesting and I think this could be a good story. Unfortunately, it's going to need a lot of work to get it there. This thing really needs to take some more trips across the editor's desk. Cut anything that isn't relevant to the plot. For instance, I think you should get rid of that museum bit at the beginning because it doesn't effect the plot line. In fact, if I were writing the story, I would have started with Megan at the restaurant and just gone on from there. I would also suggest you get rid of the asylum bit in the middle. You see, sometimes it's better not to tell the reader what's going on. In this case, it would leave the reader wondering if what had happened to Megan was a hallucination or if it had really happened. And you know what I think would be fun? To go with that latter option, to make everything really and not just the work of a mad mind. But, in the end, everything's up to you. I'm just making suggestions.
And speaking of making suggestions, here's another one: change Megan. At the moment she is the stereotypical screaming mad man and I think that's a hoary cliche. Give her some sort of personality, make her more than just someone who's been scared shitless by a fire hydrant. And to do this you could give the reader some sort of indication of what her thoughts are when all this is happening.
And then there's your ending. It's a sort of "And they lived happily ever after." ending. And by that, I mean it ends too fast. You want to avoid that sort of thing like the plague. Unless, of course, you want an ambiguous ending, which would mean chopping the last two sentences off. Personally, I think it would be a good idea to just leave Megan lying on the sidewalk, because it once again it brings up the question of if what had happened to her was real or imagined.
Now, having said all that, I get the sneaking suspicion that I've just serious critique of a comical story. Please tell me that isn't the case.
And speaking of making suggestions, here's another one: change Megan. At the moment she is the stereotypical screaming mad man and I think that's a hoary cliche. Give her some sort of personality, make her more than just someone who's been scared shitless by a fire hydrant. And to do this you could give the reader some sort of indication of what her thoughts are when all this is happening.
And then there's your ending. It's a sort of "And they lived happily ever after." ending. And by that, I mean it ends too fast. You want to avoid that sort of thing like the plague. Unless, of course, you want an ambiguous ending, which would mean chopping the last two sentences off. Personally, I think it would be a good idea to just leave Megan lying on the sidewalk, because it once again it brings up the question of if what had happened to her was real or imagined.
Now, having said all that, I get the sneaking suspicion that I've just serious critique of a comical story. Please tell me that isn't the case.
Okay, first thing, I only put the museum part in there for some filler, I'll try it out without it, but I don't know if I really want to change that... I will go in and change that part with the insane asylum, it's a very good suggestion, just not right now...I'll get around to it eventually, but I'm too lazy at the moment.
Also, I know it needs more work, but I'd need someone to help me to fix it better by analyzing it deeply because I have a hard time finding things that could be improved in my own work, which I suppose, is like most writers.
I will definitely kill those last two sentences, good idea, and this only emphasizes my point made in my second paragraph here.
This story was just for fun, got the need to write at about four in the afternoon and did so for two hours, but it isn't enough time to really perfect anything. This was more of a "I need to get this out of my system" type of work, but I notice the potential and posted it for opinions and help with editing like you have given me. I'd like to one day put a bunch of these short stories together in order to form a compilation of them. I hope I can move on to writing books at some point in time, but for the moment, I have not the patience for that kind of writing.
I thank you very much for this critique and admire your ideas concerning the improvement of my story.
Also, I know it needs more work, but I'd need someone to help me to fix it better by analyzing it deeply because I have a hard time finding things that could be improved in my own work, which I suppose, is like most writers.
I will definitely kill those last two sentences, good idea, and this only emphasizes my point made in my second paragraph here.
This story was just for fun, got the need to write at about four in the afternoon and did so for two hours, but it isn't enough time to really perfect anything. This was more of a "I need to get this out of my system" type of work, but I notice the potential and posted it for opinions and help with editing like you have given me. I'd like to one day put a bunch of these short stories together in order to form a compilation of them. I hope I can move on to writing books at some point in time, but for the moment, I have not the patience for that kind of writing.
I thank you very much for this critique and admire your ideas concerning the improvement of my story.
Comments