I wrote this a while ago...

[FedUpWithIt All]

What do you think? I would love critiques and opinions.


Chemical Sedation

Someone was speaking. She could hear the sound. She knew that sound from another time. It's

familiarity irritated her. She put her hands to her ears to stop the assault. But her hands betrayed her.

They did not protect her. She screamed in rage. Rage at her traitor body. Her body that would not

shelter her against the onslaught of sensations. She had given in to it's demands since time

unremembered. Hunger and thirst had been quenched. Chill had been warmed. She had drawn

breath. She had caressed away aching longings in dark and lonely moments. I want nothing she

screamed at her selfish being. I have always done what was asked of me. I have always given you what

you need. Give me what i need now. You owe me that much. She could not say how long she vented

her rage. Time did not exist in her insanity. She knew she was going insane. She felt her body call her

to rally against it. But she would not, if only to spite it for it's unrelenting demands. She screamed, until

screaming turned to wailing and wailing to sleep. She had not even noticed that the sound that had

brought on her anguish had ceased long before.

[FedUpWithIt All]

1. Cont.

She felt the darkness before she opened her eyes. Relieved that she was finally left in peace she

allowed a lucidity to pass over her mind. She could not remember how long it had been since they told

her. Since the words that tore her soul into jagged shreds. He is gone. What do those words mean, she

had actually thought. He is gone? I don't understand. He is at school. Did he leave the school? That

was before that "kind hearted" bitch destroyed the last moment of her blissful innocence with her ever

so gently uttered, no honey, you don't understand....no c**t, she thought in the darkness before she

opened her eyes, what i don't understand is how you can tell someone that their baby is dead. baby is

dead. Those words. No words followed. The canvas of her mind could not even produce words that

could follow the horror of those three. Baby is dead. She felt like screaming again. But screaming

would only bring the "kind hearted" one back with her rape of "comfort". She reached to the floor

beside her bed and grabbed at the clothing she knew to be there. The clothing she had torn from her

body when even the sensation of it felt like it was burning her. She pulled the loose sweat pants onto

her nude body. She could smell herself on her clothing when she moved the fabric over her slightly

raised hips. She smelled sweat mixed with blood. So great was her loss that within an hour of the

words, he is gone, her uterus had begun to grieve the loss as well. It was appropriate. It had been his

first home. It had held him and nurtured him in his most fragile moments. She refused in the

preceding days to change her clothes. The "kind hearted" bitch had tried. The smell of the blood was a

comfort to her now. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the tee-shirt from the

floor. She pulled it over her head and stood and walked from the still dark room. It had been several

hours since she had been given the last pill. Several hours since she had hidden it under her tongue.

Several hours, yet she still felt the heaviness of the drug in her legs. She walked straight for the front

door, mentally challenging the "kind hearted" bitch to try and stop her. But there was no resistance to

her escape. She heard the sound of people talking in the kitchen, but no one noticed that she was

moving through the house. She slipped on a pair of flip flops resting by the door and grabbed the keys

from the small key holder her son had made her as a mother's day gift the year before. When she got

into her car she was stunned at how surreal and artificial the lights and sounds of the vehicle seemed to

her. It was as if her grief had woken her up from a long dream and she now saw everything for what it

truly was. Artificial backdrops in an artificial life.

[FedUpWithIt All]

2. Cont.

Asphalt poured in an endless stream under the humming wheels of the car as steered ever further from

the signs that signaled life. With each turn of the wheel the lights and homes passed in a blur until they

were replaced by only trees and blackness. She slowly turned onto a dark, nearly hidden, drive. Rubber

crunched on gravel. She moaned as the familiarity of the sound knocked the air from her breast. This

had been his favorite place. This is where he learned to kick around a ball and worm a hook. Before

she had a chance to defend herself, a vivid memory filled her aching mind. Oh, Mommy, look...he had

cried with excitement the first time he saw his new teammates standing along the edge of the field.

Now, in the silent, black night she closed her eyes. She pressed her fists to her ears and screamed in an

attempt to block out the memories that ripped through her. She stayed this way for a long time until

finally exhausted she rested her head on the steering wheel before her. Without lifting her head she

opened the door. She placed one leg outside the car and again sat still. Every movement of her body

seemed to deplete her. After a momentary rest she lifted her head and placed her other leg outside of

the still running vehicle.



She could hear the sounds of the lake that lay just past the row of trees before her. She walked towards

the sound. With deliberate steps she passed the black trees and stumbled down the small ravine.

When she finally felt the cool water on her toes she stopped suddenly. Dawn was breaking. She raised

her face to the lightly colored sky and defied God to challenge her. She began to remove her clothing

and drop it along the water's edge. She placed one foot deeper into the water and then another. The

lake resisted her soft skin as it attempted to break its glass surface. The cool water tried to curl away

from the feathery smoothness before it reluctantly relented and embraced it. She continued walking

into the lakes depths until she felt the water sweep her body.. She laid back into it's shimmering

grasp. She looked down at her body as it slid from the water. Her skin looked pale in the dim light. She

made note of the color of her nipples. The color differed during the stages of her monthly cycle. She

wondered briefly why she noticed such things. In the early dawn light she could see that they were a

light salmon tint. It was a color that always made her think of youth. The color of infant rosebuds. The

same shade as her young son's bow shaped mouth. She felt a searing pain as she thought of him.

God, how she welcomed that pain. She did not want to think of youth or softly tinted colors. She

wanted to be blinded out of thought by pain. Hot searing pain. She wanted to taste it. Bitter and

metallic. She turned herself over just as tears began to spill from her eyes, fresh cool water mixing with

salty drops. She opened her mouth. She inhaled. Water rushed into her to drown the flames of grief she

had fanned so carefully. Slower than she anticipated, darkness came as the fire of anguish that had

provided the solitary light in her soul for so long were snuffed out. She resisted a primal urge to jump up

and escape the liquid embrace. She knew it was a false escape. An escape to a living death that she

feared more.

Finally...Blackness.

[alcibiades_mystery]

3. Too much past perfect

Leading to this monster of past perfect overkill: "She had not even noticed that the sound that had brought on her anguish had ceased long before." Had, had, had. Had, had, had. It's distracting. Also, get rid of "time unremembered." It's stilted. "She had always given into its (no apostrophe for third person possessive) demands."

There's also a strange flipping, where in one line the body is betraying her, and in the other it is calling her to rally against something. If you don't want to be consistent on this point, you should mark the transition more openly.

[FedUpWithIt All]

4. Excellent...

thank you. :hi:

I do use past perfect too often. It is a real struggle for me.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

5. Reading it without regard to the grammar.........

The mood is so compelling.......

It draws me in and makes me witness her insanity and how she deals with it.

I felt so vulnerable reading it and wondered how it would end.

One point: I was confused at the start........thought she had lost her newborn infant. You might want to clarify that somehow.

Next time pick something happier, OK? Wow..........it is very good, nonetheless.

Thank you.......... :hi:

[FedUpWithIt All]

6. Thank you CaliforniaPeggy...

:hi:

The age of her son does need clarified. I had not thought of it before. I will try to make that more clear. :)

[CaliforniaPeggy]

7. My dear FedUpWithIt All.........

I just checked, and you can't (or won't) recieve PM's yet.......

I was going to ask you if you'd like me to buy you a star.......

I have selfish motives for this!

If you have a star, you can go into the special forums that are for paying members only. I have a story that I'd like you to read, in the Writer's Forum..........

But you can't read it till you have a star! Would you like me to buy you one?

It would be my pleasure!

:hi:

[FedUpWithIt All]

8. You are so kind...

:hug:

I am able to read the special forums. I am just unable to respond. I have looked at some of your work.

I am very grateful for your offer. More than you know. I could only accept if you will let me return the favor in the future.

I was waiting until the sting of school shopping had passed. lol


:hug:

[FedUpWithIt All]

9. I read your story The Game a couple of days ago....

I have a great love for erotic literature. :D

One of the things that most impressed me about The Game was the pacing. There was no rush. Every accelerated flutter of a heart, every momentary insecurity, the welcome and unwelcome distraction of the sports...wonderful.

The build up was slow and exact. I really enjoyed it. I always get so excited when i see writers show the not so obvious. The subtle things.

Today, it was your poem that inspired me to post my own story. There is something familiar in the way you write.

It has been a while since i have written anything new. I miss writing. It is cleansing.

Thank you, Peggy, for reaching out to me. Being the new kid on the block can be a bit lonely at times.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

10. My dear FedUpWithIt All.........

Thank you so much for your comments here.........

I am very pleased that you enjoyed my little story!

And that you picked up on the things that mattered to me meant a great deal too........

The pacing was deliberate....as were all the subtle things.

As for getting you a star......I am happy to do it. And there's no need for you to buy me one, since I contribute to every drive. YOu could pay it forward, though, for some other DU'er who doesn't have one...

It is always my pleasure to welcome the new folks! I've made some awfully good friends that way...

Don't want you to feel one little bit lonely here!


:hug:

[FedUpWithIt All]

12. It's so pretty...

:bounce:

Thank you again. I will pay it forward. ;)

[RetroLounge]

11. Thank you for sharing that with us...

From one writer to another. I appreciate seeing other's work.

This is very intense, and i agree with the suggestions already made.

I have not posted any of my stories, as they tend to be longer, but I may do so one of these days.

Hope to see you in the Daily Poem threads...

:hi:

RL

[FedUpWithIt All]

13. I look forward to seeing some more of yours...

:hi: