Guttersnipe
mortal ally
I've just written a short story I was actually planning to send in, but I'm worried that it's too disordered because I wrote it so fast. It's also too short, I think, and don't know how to go about lengthening it. I read it and know that there are a few elements missing, but don't know what they are. Please respond with constructive criticism. Here it is. @BT Jones @Joshua Jones @Extollager
I have nightmares about it all the time. I was with my soulmate, Naomi, in the car, listening to The Who's "Squeezebox" at high volume. I couldn't possibly have seen him. There was a snow bank that obscured everything to the right of the car. I crawled slowly past the stop sign, hardly able to hear the horn until it was too late. Naomi was closest, taking the brunt of it.
Now I am not only her fiancé; I am also her caretaker. Don't worry; I'm a registered nurse. I alone know how to help her. She is now a quadriplegic. I do everything for her. I feed her and bring her to bed, and always help her in the bathroom. Every day I curse the punk who was likely driving under the influence. I did not want outsiders to try to take her from me, so I didn't contact the law. God will avenge us. I pray night and day that she gets better; earthly medicine can only go so far.
She is constantly cross. She closes her mouth often when I try to feed and medicate her. I feel eternally grateful when she relents. She becomes so angry with me at times that she won't meet my eyes and often becomes silent for days. I tell her that it is not my fault, and certainly not hers, that we are in this awful situation. I tell her time and again that the other driver was a reckless child, and that, someday, God will judge and punish him.
I have not changed my belief that Naomi is my soulmate, even though she can no longer return my embraces with enthusiasm. Her hoarse voice snaps at me if I do not agree to her wishes posthaste. But I know she still loves me. I love her regardless of her abuse. I still have the ring in my pocket. I hope that, in a few years (Alas, it cannot be sooner!), she will thank me and ask forgiveness. On that day, I will propose to her. I have no doubt that her quadriplegia will be cured, for no one has been so loyal to God as I have. As for today, I will feed her, clean her, and take her to bed with me. And, as always, I will try to get rid of this terrible stench.
I have nightmares about it all the time. I was with my soulmate, Naomi, in the car, listening to The Who's "Squeezebox" at high volume. I couldn't possibly have seen him. There was a snow bank that obscured everything to the right of the car. I crawled slowly past the stop sign, hardly able to hear the horn until it was too late. Naomi was closest, taking the brunt of it.
Now I am not only her fiancé; I am also her caretaker. Don't worry; I'm a registered nurse. I alone know how to help her. She is now a quadriplegic. I do everything for her. I feed her and bring her to bed, and always help her in the bathroom. Every day I curse the punk who was likely driving under the influence. I did not want outsiders to try to take her from me, so I didn't contact the law. God will avenge us. I pray night and day that she gets better; earthly medicine can only go so far.
She is constantly cross. She closes her mouth often when I try to feed and medicate her. I feel eternally grateful when she relents. She becomes so angry with me at times that she won't meet my eyes and often becomes silent for days. I tell her that it is not my fault, and certainly not hers, that we are in this awful situation. I tell her time and again that the other driver was a reckless child, and that, someday, God will judge and punish him.
I have not changed my belief that Naomi is my soulmate, even though she can no longer return my embraces with enthusiasm. Her hoarse voice snaps at me if I do not agree to her wishes posthaste. But I know she still loves me. I love her regardless of her abuse. I still have the ring in my pocket. I hope that, in a few years (Alas, it cannot be sooner!), she will thank me and ask forgiveness. On that day, I will propose to her. I have no doubt that her quadriplegia will be cured, for no one has been so loyal to God as I have. As for today, I will feed her, clean her, and take her to bed with me. And, as always, I will try to get rid of this terrible stench.
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