ImagineRepublicCity
March 4th, 2018, 05:39 PM
Hello! I have a short story competition coming up and I pulled out an oldie I wrote when I was younger, but I would like some tips to improve. I'm looking more for clarity, understanding and grammar, as I'm the one who wrote it, so I know what's going on in my head, but you as an outsider may not have as much context. Please Enjoy :)
I can’t understand it myself; Ever since I remember, I have always been this way. I used to use it as my escape or just for a little bit of excitement. The ability to live the last week of someone’s life from the present, or as I call it, “The Reflection Effect”. You could argue it was similar to a week-long dream with the addition of time in the present staying the same, so I could easily find out what’s happening in the past week of a celebrities’ life or even find out a little more about my friends without missing out on anything else. However, even though it’s fun, you can sometimes abuse those abilities and when I say abuse, I mean literally, there was abuse.
See my best friend Charlotte was such a sweet girl back when I was 18 and I adored her to bits. I respected her so much that I never looked into her life ever in my 6 years of knowing her. She wasn’t very pretty like all the other girls, but she had the most beautiful personality I could’ve ever known. In fact, the way I learned about her was when I looked into my crushes week and found out he actually liked her, and so, I attempted to befriend her so I could get closer to my twelvie crush, which is quite embarrassing to be honest. After getting to know her, we stayed friends for the longest amount of time. Whenever she was in trouble, I would always try to help her and she would do the same.
Eventually when I was 15, I told her about my ability to jump into people’s weeks, and she was the first and last person I have ever told. I haven’t even told my fiancé about my ability, not that I use it anymore. She looked at me confused, smiled, and then said to me word for word, “Can you jump into Natalie’s week so I can find out what perfume she uses?” to which I laughed and gladly did for her. (If you were wondering it was actually just baby powder. Teen mums, huh.)
And though I’m 24 now, I still don’t understand what happened to us. When I was 18 at that point, I thought we were inseparable. I thought I was going to become her bridesmaid at her wedding and I thought we were going to go out on coffee dates when our children were at school and I thought we were going to live on until we both died from old age. She had a boyfriend at the time and I was still single, but I didn’t really care anyway because I was happy for her. At the time, she was taking a gap year to raise funds for university as she wanted to become a psychologist, whereas I on the other hand, just wanted to become a teacher which I was already taking my degree in. She also worked in retail as a shop manager at one of the places we always go to ever since I introduced her to the place when we were 16. On my days off of university, I would come visit her if it wasn’t too busy and just talk about what was happening in our lives. She was busy, working 6 days a week and spending her day off which was a Tuesday with her boyfriend, or really, on her boyfriend and I didn’t mind that because I was busy too, having to study hard and also help out with my local primary school whenever I could.
We drifted a little and I could feel it, and though she would act the same, I could feel something wasn’t right between us. There was a thin barrier separating us and it wasn’t her job or my study or her boyfriend, but it was something I couldn’t put my finger on when I was that age. I just knew something was different because when you’re best friends, sometimes you can just tell something’s wrong when there hasn’t been much of a change; and I was right. The day before I turned 19 she was dead. She was found in her bedroom hanging from the ceiling, like a lifeless corpse because that’s all she was when we found her; A lifeless corpse. They found a note with the body but it wasn’t hers. She said something about “not having friends” and “feeling alone” or something like that but I know that was untrue because she loved me like a sister and her boyfriend was all she would talk about. I tried to ask her boyfriend about it but he avoided the question and I couldn’t wait. I had to know what happened to my friend of 6 years. My dear Charlotte who would so stupid things with me when I was bored. Who comforted me when my ex told me he didn’t want to go the ball with me. Would make me dinner whenever I felt too lazy to do so. I brought myself into her boyfriend’s shoes the day after she died for I still respected my Charlotte and didn’t want to delve into her shoes. I remember everything clearly like it happened to me yesterday. In fact, it’s kind of awkward whenever I remember it because it was a Tuesday. It was like I was making out with my best friend and doing all that stuff with her. I remember it though, she had a bruise on her hip and it was the size of a grapefruit, an array of broken colours. I looked at it with disgust as her boyfriend did, as I grabbed a hold of her and looked her in the eye.
“I know you’re lying to me, you didn’t get this from work, not this one. I can’t believe it this time.” She turned away and I noticed that she was busy with her thoughts. I could see her moving her fingers the way she did when she would lie to others and she licked her top lip when she was nervous. “Mel and I just got into a play fight you see, and she accidentally threw a water bottle at me.”
Even if I couldn’t tell she was lying by the way she moved, I knew she was lying because my name is Melanie and I’m the only Mel she knows. I continued to live in the body of her boyfriend up to the very end. I could feel his temperature drop and his heart stop when he saw Charlotte, and I could hear his thoughts get fed to me. “Why would she do this? I thought she loved me. Something's not right. She was hiding something from me. I could ask Mel, but if I don’t know, how would she? I can’t ask her. I don’t want to be involved in this. I need to get away.”
When I got back into my usual self I knew what I had to do. She never told me anything, but I knew it was my only chance. I had to find out what happened to her. I had to. I had to find out what happened to my friend; Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to move on. I had to break my respect for her and delve into her life and I knew she would understand, because what I discovered in that week seemed to be planned for me. She knew what I was going to do before her passing.
Of course at that time I was only doing this for my own selfish gain but in the end she was okay with it. I lived in my best friend’s body for a week, and it felt almost wonderful to know what she really felt like from the inside. I was able to feel her every movement and her every breath, and it was only then I realised what an uncanny ability I had, something I only took for granted and abused for my own liking. Even though it felt like I could live with her again, it was really scary, because I discovered things I wished I never knew. I was scared. I wanted to know more about her, because I only had one chance, but I didn’t want to find out, because every step got deeper and darker.
It started when I saw it. The marks. The bruises. The hurt. It was everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her body, and I could see her removing the make up a bit more at a time to expose what could be more horrifying than the next. The days went on like this. She would cover herself, she would go to work, and she would get home and defile herself. The worst part was that she could feel the pain whatever she did. Whenever she would lift boxes or take a shower or do anything, I could feel the pain myself and though it did not hurt to the point that she couldn’t move, it was still very painful. On that Tuesday I felt it. Her father was ju-…just able to do that. It was like an innocent girl in the face of the monster of her nightmares. I felt so scared in her body and it hurt a lot to experience that myself, both emotionally and physically, and at that moment I thought about how she felt. I thought about all her actions. I thought about every little thing we had done together and it just felt so…so sad. Where did she go? In the time-lapse of just a couple of moments, did she finally think that it was okay to just go?
I loved her like a best friend and a sister, and I know she loved me too, and before I could even ask the question, she answered it herself. She was a smart girl and she told me everything without me actually being there. She called up work first and told them she was taking the day off tomorrow for my birthday. She cleaned up her bed and made her room clean; too clean in fact, like she was preparing for what I already knew was to come. She then sat at her desk, closed her eyes and started to speak to the wall and I knew who she was talking to.
“Mel, I am sorry that I never told you anything of which has happened to me, and I’m sure you can understand that I’m not one to openly speak up for myself. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I really loved you a lot. You mean the whole world to me and when you started speaking to me on that one day when we were twelve, I was so ecstatic because I always envied you when I first moved to the school. You seemed to be very distant yet always into it. So quiet yet always so cheery. You were always sarcastic yet all so genuine. I love you Melanie. You were always the reflection I was looking for. My mirror image I inspired to be. I am the effect of your reflection, and I’m happy to be yours.”
And then she just wrote the shitty note and died. She just killed herself right there and I woke up feeling angry and mad at her for not telling me anything, but I look back at it now and I don’t care, I’m fine with what she did. I know she loved me, and if she believed the sacrifice she needed to stop her pain was her life, I can take that. I can. I trusted my best friend, for she loved and looked up to me, and I do the same with her. As she said, she is the reflection effect of me and I am her mirror image, and she’ll live in me forever.
I can’t understand it myself; Ever since I remember, I have always been this way. I used to use it as my escape or just for a little bit of excitement. The ability to live the last week of someone’s life from the present, or as I call it, “The Reflection Effect”. You could argue it was similar to a week-long dream with the addition of time in the present staying the same, so I could easily find out what’s happening in the past week of a celebrities’ life or even find out a little more about my friends without missing out on anything else. However, even though it’s fun, you can sometimes abuse those abilities and when I say abuse, I mean literally, there was abuse.
See my best friend Charlotte was such a sweet girl back when I was 18 and I adored her to bits. I respected her so much that I never looked into her life ever in my 6 years of knowing her. She wasn’t very pretty like all the other girls, but she had the most beautiful personality I could’ve ever known. In fact, the way I learned about her was when I looked into my crushes week and found out he actually liked her, and so, I attempted to befriend her so I could get closer to my twelvie crush, which is quite embarrassing to be honest. After getting to know her, we stayed friends for the longest amount of time. Whenever she was in trouble, I would always try to help her and she would do the same.
Eventually when I was 15, I told her about my ability to jump into people’s weeks, and she was the first and last person I have ever told. I haven’t even told my fiancé about my ability, not that I use it anymore. She looked at me confused, smiled, and then said to me word for word, “Can you jump into Natalie’s week so I can find out what perfume she uses?” to which I laughed and gladly did for her. (If you were wondering it was actually just baby powder. Teen mums, huh.)
And though I’m 24 now, I still don’t understand what happened to us. When I was 18 at that point, I thought we were inseparable. I thought I was going to become her bridesmaid at her wedding and I thought we were going to go out on coffee dates when our children were at school and I thought we were going to live on until we both died from old age. She had a boyfriend at the time and I was still single, but I didn’t really care anyway because I was happy for her. At the time, she was taking a gap year to raise funds for university as she wanted to become a psychologist, whereas I on the other hand, just wanted to become a teacher which I was already taking my degree in. She also worked in retail as a shop manager at one of the places we always go to ever since I introduced her to the place when we were 16. On my days off of university, I would come visit her if it wasn’t too busy and just talk about what was happening in our lives. She was busy, working 6 days a week and spending her day off which was a Tuesday with her boyfriend, or really, on her boyfriend and I didn’t mind that because I was busy too, having to study hard and also help out with my local primary school whenever I could.
We drifted a little and I could feel it, and though she would act the same, I could feel something wasn’t right between us. There was a thin barrier separating us and it wasn’t her job or my study or her boyfriend, but it was something I couldn’t put my finger on when I was that age. I just knew something was different because when you’re best friends, sometimes you can just tell something’s wrong when there hasn’t been much of a change; and I was right. The day before I turned 19 she was dead. She was found in her bedroom hanging from the ceiling, like a lifeless corpse because that’s all she was when we found her; A lifeless corpse. They found a note with the body but it wasn’t hers. She said something about “not having friends” and “feeling alone” or something like that but I know that was untrue because she loved me like a sister and her boyfriend was all she would talk about. I tried to ask her boyfriend about it but he avoided the question and I couldn’t wait. I had to know what happened to my friend of 6 years. My dear Charlotte who would so stupid things with me when I was bored. Who comforted me when my ex told me he didn’t want to go the ball with me. Would make me dinner whenever I felt too lazy to do so. I brought myself into her boyfriend’s shoes the day after she died for I still respected my Charlotte and didn’t want to delve into her shoes. I remember everything clearly like it happened to me yesterday. In fact, it’s kind of awkward whenever I remember it because it was a Tuesday. It was like I was making out with my best friend and doing all that stuff with her. I remember it though, she had a bruise on her hip and it was the size of a grapefruit, an array of broken colours. I looked at it with disgust as her boyfriend did, as I grabbed a hold of her and looked her in the eye.
“I know you’re lying to me, you didn’t get this from work, not this one. I can’t believe it this time.” She turned away and I noticed that she was busy with her thoughts. I could see her moving her fingers the way she did when she would lie to others and she licked her top lip when she was nervous. “Mel and I just got into a play fight you see, and she accidentally threw a water bottle at me.”
Even if I couldn’t tell she was lying by the way she moved, I knew she was lying because my name is Melanie and I’m the only Mel she knows. I continued to live in the body of her boyfriend up to the very end. I could feel his temperature drop and his heart stop when he saw Charlotte, and I could hear his thoughts get fed to me. “Why would she do this? I thought she loved me. Something's not right. She was hiding something from me. I could ask Mel, but if I don’t know, how would she? I can’t ask her. I don’t want to be involved in this. I need to get away.”
When I got back into my usual self I knew what I had to do. She never told me anything, but I knew it was my only chance. I had to find out what happened to her. I had to. I had to find out what happened to my friend; Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to move on. I had to break my respect for her and delve into her life and I knew she would understand, because what I discovered in that week seemed to be planned for me. She knew what I was going to do before her passing.
Of course at that time I was only doing this for my own selfish gain but in the end she was okay with it. I lived in my best friend’s body for a week, and it felt almost wonderful to know what she really felt like from the inside. I was able to feel her every movement and her every breath, and it was only then I realised what an uncanny ability I had, something I only took for granted and abused for my own liking. Even though it felt like I could live with her again, it was really scary, because I discovered things I wished I never knew. I was scared. I wanted to know more about her, because I only had one chance, but I didn’t want to find out, because every step got deeper and darker.
It started when I saw it. The marks. The bruises. The hurt. It was everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her body, and I could see her removing the make up a bit more at a time to expose what could be more horrifying than the next. The days went on like this. She would cover herself, she would go to work, and she would get home and defile herself. The worst part was that she could feel the pain whatever she did. Whenever she would lift boxes or take a shower or do anything, I could feel the pain myself and though it did not hurt to the point that she couldn’t move, it was still very painful. On that Tuesday I felt it. Her father was ju-…just able to do that. It was like an innocent girl in the face of the monster of her nightmares. I felt so scared in her body and it hurt a lot to experience that myself, both emotionally and physically, and at that moment I thought about how she felt. I thought about all her actions. I thought about every little thing we had done together and it just felt so…so sad. Where did she go? In the time-lapse of just a couple of moments, did she finally think that it was okay to just go?
I loved her like a best friend and a sister, and I know she loved me too, and before I could even ask the question, she answered it herself. She was a smart girl and she told me everything without me actually being there. She called up work first and told them she was taking the day off tomorrow for my birthday. She cleaned up her bed and made her room clean; too clean in fact, like she was preparing for what I already knew was to come. She then sat at her desk, closed her eyes and started to speak to the wall and I knew who she was talking to.
“Mel, I am sorry that I never told you anything of which has happened to me, and I’m sure you can understand that I’m not one to openly speak up for myself. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I really loved you a lot. You mean the whole world to me and when you started speaking to me on that one day when we were twelve, I was so ecstatic because I always envied you when I first moved to the school. You seemed to be very distant yet always into it. So quiet yet always so cheery. You were always sarcastic yet all so genuine. I love you Melanie. You were always the reflection I was looking for. My mirror image I inspired to be. I am the effect of your reflection, and I’m happy to be yours.”
And then she just wrote the shitty note and died. She just killed herself right there and I woke up feeling angry and mad at her for not telling me anything, but I look back at it now and I don’t care, I’m fine with what she did. I know she loved me, and if she believed the sacrifice she needed to stop her pain was her life, I can take that. I can. I trusted my best friend, for she loved and looked up to me, and I do the same with her. As she said, she is the reflection effect of me and I am her mirror image, and she’ll live in me forever.