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~~someonecompletelyrandom~~ · 04-20-2010, 06:27 PM

Feedback is appreciated. I tried to take the advice to the revision. I removed the What would YOU do nonsense, connected some of the ideas together, abandoned the asonance ryhming thing I was trying to do and changed up the comatose visions quite a bit. Here's version 2...

He was driving and then he wasn't. He simply wasn't behind the wheel anymore. Instead, he was in the woods. He couldn't clearly see the sky, but he knew that is was midday. He didn't care at all that he was displaced from his vehicle, he didn't even wonder why it had happened. Instead his mind simply wondered in every direction. Memories mixed with his imagination, and the lines between reality and fiction were blurred.

Now he found himself standing in a field, the night's sky and a full moon above him. The light from the moon seemed unusually bright. He stared at, and noticed that the light was progressively getting brighter and brighter. In time the whiteness of the moon fully engulfed him. Faintly, he could see images fading in and out. He strained to reconize them. Finally, it became apparent that he was seeing images of himself. He saw his body near the bottle that he drank that night, and someone else's in the vehicle that he drove that night. He saw his friends attending his funeral, none of them happy but none too sad. “He brought this on himself!” one of them heckled. Now he was upset, his being filled with madness. He cursed his own name and he lamented his own actions. He knew that he was dead and that he took another with him. He screamed. He cried out in agony. He tore the fabric of his own phantasm into pieces.

He awoke in a bed, but not his own bed. This was the recovery room. In the night he thought he had died, but in reality he had survived an accident on the road. He looked around the room and saw no family visiting him, only a police officer. Now Mr. Walker drinks no more, and he drives only with a clear head. He's made real friends now, recognizing that the addictions he fed were holding him back. His life is more full, more meaningful. But it's ashame he had to learn his lesson at the cost of another. It's a shame he won't be as free as he used to be.

better? worse?

04-20-2010, 06:27 PM	#4 (permalink)
~~someonecompletelyrandom~~ Account Disabled Join Date: Nov 2008 Posts: 4,538	Feedback is appreciated. I tried to take the advice to the revision. I removed the What would YOU do nonsense, connected some of the ideas together, abandoned the asonance ryhming thing I was trying to do and changed up the comatose visions quite a bit. Here's version 2... He was driving and then he wasn't. He simply wasn't behind the wheel anymore. Instead, he was in the woods. He couldn't clearly see the sky, but he knew that is was midday. He didn't care at all that he was displaced from his vehicle, he didn't even wonder why it had happened. Instead his mind simply wondered in every direction. Memories mixed with his imagination, and the lines between reality and fiction were blurred. Now he found himself standing in a field, the night's sky and a full moon above him. The light from the moon seemed unusually bright. He stared at, and noticed that the light was progressively getting brighter and brighter. In time the whiteness of the moon fully engulfed him. Faintly, he could see images fading in and out. He strained to reconize them. Finally, it became apparent that he was seeing images of himself. He saw his body near the bottle that he drank that night, and someone else's in the vehicle that he drove that night. He saw his friends attending his funeral, none of them happy but none too sad. “He brought this on himself!” one of them heckled. Now he was upset, his being filled with madness. He cursed his own name and he lamented his own actions. He knew that he was dead and that he took another with him. He screamed. He cried out in agony. He tore the fabric of his own phantasm into pieces. He awoke in a bed, but not his own bed. This was the recovery room. In the night he thought he had died, but in reality he had survived an accident on the road. He looked around the room and saw no family visiting him, only a police officer. Now Mr. Walker drinks no more, and he drives only with a clear head. He's made real friends now, recognizing that the addictions he fed were holding him back. His life is more full, more meaningful. But it's ashame he had to learn his lesson at the cost of another. It's a shame he won't be as free as he used to be. better? worse?