Come on then, let me tell you about the overdose.
I was not quite seventeen, and my skin was fresh and my body sweetly aware of itself. I picked roses from the garden that day and pulled off the petals and dropped them in my bath. I sank into scented water and listened to the birdsong. It was as pretty as untainted youth. The sunlight was soft and highlighted the pink of my nipples. I touched them and they got hard. Then I dreamed.
In my fluffy towel, I smoked a cigarette and listened to Placebo. For a while, all was perfect.
The phone rang and I answered it. I listened.
She was in hospital. A stroke.
I collapsed as though my legs were made of sand.
I composed myself for enough time to make a call. Then I cried.
The darkness of that night haunts me still; I crept under the covers and hid until dawn. When the birds sang, it was sombre; tainted.
He came home and was cold- I don't know why. The house was a mess, and this was a problem. Something snapped and I ran upstairs- and in the bathroom, counted out thirty white paracetamol tablets.
I stared out at the garden, and at the grass which looked sad and faded. Suddenly I saw my life as that grass. I swallowed the pills, one by one, and then lay down and slept.
When I woke I was weak, and faint and terrified- and I stumbled into the kitchen and confessed.
At the hospital I threw up as I went inside, and people watched. I fell.
I woke in a bed; the wallpaper had balloons and Tigger on it. The nurse made a fuss of me and took me to the loo. The colourful clock showed the time to be quarter past one. My mouth stank and the nightgown I had been dressed in scratched at my flesh. I felt too real.
I slipped back into the bed and the nurse promised toast. I closed my eyes and thought about the roses and their fragile petals- the way they floated and then drowned in the bath, like omens.
Comments
insertponceyfre... | April 2, 2010 - 04:50
I always know it's going to be something good when I see your name. Love the odd way you start this - like a challenge, and the half child/half adult tone of the narrator is perfect. Well done! xx
SundaysChild | April 2, 2010 - 08:53
Thank you very much x
Mangone | April 2, 2010 - 15:24
Life is bittersweet indeed, Sunday!
It's the contrast that makes it so compelling -
as with this piece...
I think that's the hardest part of depression -
the lack of contrast, the long Winter with little hope of Summer.
Hence, the joys of Spring ;O)
SundaysChild | April 4, 2010 - 19:11
Very true, Mangone.
Thanks for taking the time to comment.
Thank you, abctales, for the cherry- it means more than you know with this one.
Dynamaso | April 7, 2010 - 07:34
Short on words and long on brilliance (sorry about that!) Great work...
Beeme | November 19, 2010 - 09:17
wow, so sad but ever so beautiful. You never fail to impress me. It was great to hear from you again, I hope your well :)
Beeme xx
White Dwarf | November 19, 2010 - 10:23
I love it.
Dark and real.
Had me hooked. You'd think "Come on then, let me tell you about the overdose." would make me cringe, as cheap hook, but it got me. And I'm glad it did.
I'll be back for more.
SundaysChild | November 19, 2010 - 19:38
Thanks Beeme, I appreciate your comment- glad you liked this one.
White Dwarf- glad you got hooked, though not on a cheap one.
White Dwarf | November 19, 2010 - 22:32
I have been thinking about the art of the first sentence quite a bit lately. That's why I mentioned your's.
Cheap doesn't apply here. An introductory sentence like that only becomes cheap when the rest of the story does not deliver what was promised.
This one stood out a little because of its conversational tone, quite different to the lush form used in the rest of the piece.
The piece works very well because you have kept redundant adjectives to a minimum. I know that's creative writing 101 but so many people fall victim to it. It assists this piece because it makes the final metaphor regarding the rose petals as effective as intended.
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"The sunlight was soft and highlighted the pink of my nipples. I touched them and they got hard."
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Fantastic... because I can see the rose petals as well, without you mentioning them.
SundaysChild | November 20, 2010 - 16:42
Thanks White Dwarf, I appreciate your words- really pleased you liked this piece.