Brown

[lukewillson]

The fading sunlight crept onto my face through the small window in the corner of the room. I was slumped on my old sofa staring at the peeling and blood stained wallpaper in a state somewhere between dreaming and an uncomfortable reality. The clock ticked slowly with a deafening roar as I picked nervously at my skin to try and calm my bones that ached with malice. I wrapped a blanket around me and turned the television on to keep myself occupied. It was a feeble attempt keep my brain occupied in the hope it would prevent the inevitable sickness creeping into the pit of my stomach. Mind numbing reality shows and worrying news reports were unhelpful and I soon felt my innards distorting and entwining into one painful mess.

I heard a key fumble inside the lock of the door and my sickness faded in a second, for I knew my salvation had come. Catherine strolled through the door and an atmosphere of safety flooded the room. Very soon I would be held in a warm embrace. Catherine was truly beautiful, her slim frame sliced through the darkness of the room and a single strand of her blond hair straddled her pretty face. I even found perfection in the pale yellow glow of her skin, which was such a cause for alarm to others. I didn't care what people said was wrong with her, to me she was still the vision of purity she was the day we met. Ours eyes met and she stopped halfway across the room. Her eyes, with pupils the size of pinheads, pierced through my soul and she smiled. The loveliest smile that radiated with the beauty of a thousand suns setting over the sea.
“Did you miss me?” Her voice was soothing and calm, a far cry from my agitated dry and almost coughed response.
“Of course I did. How did it go?”
Catherine walked to the kitchen and picked up a teaspoon from the side as she spoke. “Fine, Moriarty just can’t refuse me. Do we have any clean needles? I'm not sure we should be sharing what with my problem and all.” I said no. This was a lie I did have one that she hadn't used but the needle was so barbed I couldn't bring myself to put up with the discomfort of putting it into my arm. I was getting frustrated now I just wanted a hit.
“Cook me one up first yeah, I'm fucking sick here and I can tell you've already had one”
She looked slightly taken aback by this outburst.
“Calm down! Fucking hell I haven't even mixed this in yet.” She squirted a few drops of lemon juice into the mixture then held a lighter under the spoon. The water was beginning to heat up and the brown powder was slowly integrating itself into the solution. I was now lying back on the sofa, with my sleeved rolled up ready with my tie wrapped around my arm to use as a tourniquet. Catherine lent over me and kissed me on the cheek her warm lips made my cold cheek tingle. She handed me the syringe and whispered into my ear that she loved me.

I loved her too, an immeasurable amount, but I had important matters to attend to and had no time for reciprocating the affection. I found a vein but after the needle was in I pulled back on the plunger to draw up some blood just to be sure. Can’t afford mistakes when I'm this sick I need the healing glow that is heroin. I pushed down on the plunger and in a few seconds I felt that warm glow shoot through my body. My bones no longer ached and I could slump back in comfort. I handed the syringe back to Catherine and then stared fixated by the mundane chat show on telly. It all seemed so wonderful.

I awoke suddenly. I wasn't sure how long I was out. Catherine was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was open and I could see the faint flicker of candlelight so I went to see if she was in there. She was. Her beautiful naked body was submerged in the bath. Syringe floating on the surface.

[tunnel]

Seems a reasonable rendition of the events, not sure what it was trying to say however. The imagery didn't particularly move me and there wasn't enough about the characters for me to care too much about their predicament.

I noted a number of more detailed issues;

'...ached with malice.' Odd. Don't get this.

'I wrapped a blanket around me and turned the television on to keep myself occupied. It was a feeble attempt keep my brain occupied in the hope...' Repetition of occupied.

'...distorting and entwining into...' Distorting is enough I think.

'...lock of the door and my sickness faded in a second, for I knew my salvation had come. Catherine strolled through the door...' Repetition of door, how about just strolled in.

'Catherine was truly beautiful, her slim frame sliced through the darkness of the room and a single strand of her blond hair straddled her pretty face.' He can see this detail, in a dark room, in his state?

'...we met. Ours eyes met and...' Repetition of met.

'The loveliest smile that radiated with the beauty of a thousand suns setting over the sea.' This imagery seemed a bit crass.

'...healing glow that is heroin. I pushed down on the plunger and in a few seconds I felt that warm glow...' Repetition of glow.

Grating repetitions can often be noticed by reading the work out loud I find, even record and playback or use a voice synthesiser. I think this is a valuable technique little used. I bet the poets do it.

Not bad writing, maybe needs some context.

[ranjit23das]

Good critique by tunnel.

I agree about the points made about repeating the same words in the same para.

I also agree that I needed more character development for me to feel any emotions for the writer and his lover.

[lukewillson]

Thanks tunnel. I will work a bit more on character development in future and hopefully your tips will help me avoid repetition. Not sure about the voice synthesiser though, I would probably end up just playing on it all night and not writing anything

[tunnel]

Just to explain, you can now get free apps which will read back text to you. The voices aren't excellent but it might help.

[lukewillson]

Ahh I see. I may have to give it a little try then, as its free and all that.