I thought I would try something different today, just to change things. Last may, I started writing a short story. Like so many of my projects, it fell by the wayside. But I have told a few people about the idea, and would like to pick it back up again as this is the type of writing I am trying to improve upon this year. I thought I would share what of written so far, so here is the opening to “Scars of Hope”
Scars Of Hope
Hope was 13 when she cut herself for the first time. She had taken one of the knives used to chop vegetables from the kitchen. With the black handle. There was no reason in particular for choosing that one, it just happened to be the first one she saw. With blade in hand, Hope ran into the bathroom and dropped the knife in the sink. She locked the door and stared at herself in the mirror. She then began her regular routine; staring intensely back at her reflection, fighting with herself and not being proud of herself. The cacophonous screams silently exploded throughout her head. Calm on the outside, yet seething within.
Rather than just roll up her sleeves, Hope instead pulled her My Chemical Romance tour shirt over head and plopped it onto the tiled floor. She slowly turned the left faucet on, the sound of the hot water running would deter any suspicion from her parents, particularly her father. She grabbed the handle of the knife in her right and put the blade to her upper left arm. Down the river, never across the stream. She always hated that saying. It cheapened depression in her mind. She poked and felt it puncture as she dragged the knife along her skin. There wasn’t much blood, it was only her first time after all. But Hope felt happy, felt relieved. Without thinking, she quickly made a second, slightly deeper cut.
All of the sudden, it became almost too much to bear. Everything hit her all at once. She let go of the knife and dropped to her knees as she heard it clink against the sink. Covering her eyes with her hands she fell onto her back and tried to block out the last five minutes of her life. She wished she could just block out everything and run away into oblivion, but right now she would make do with what she could. The cutting was a start. Physical pain to cover up her emotional pain. She closed her eyes and drifted off into dreams of darkness.