A Hero Dies but Once (458 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.66 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Vicousness63 (View user info) at 2006-10-03 20:26:07 EDT
Oh god how beautiful the sky was. It's pastel blues rang out over the country side, coating the world in a veil of crushed sapphire. Her steps were slow, labored, her pockets weighed down with stones. She collected more with each step, filling her pockets until they were bursting at the seams. She sat down on the bank overlooking the deep river. It's waters were muddy and unclear, though not polluted. She could see the fish near the surface as they flipped and showed off.
The mud felt soft and comfortable under her body. She traced a heart in it longingly.
Two long months ago she had found herself sitting in this same exact situation. Her stomach was bulging slightly as the parasite sucking away at her insides grew overwhelmingly. She was sobbing then, though. Holding a rosary in her right hand, she had prayed in earnest. God brought down no miracles. She had to get the little rat sucked out of her all by her fucking self. She didn't even give it a name.
Virginia Woolf died this way. So did Icarus. So did Natalie Wood.
"There is something to be said for fading away," she murmured, clutching her worn little bible.
As if finally sick of waiting, she hoisted herself into the water before her fickle mind could change. She landed on a shallow underwater bank, but due to a moment's hesitation, slipped with the silt under the surface. She was now at least nine feet under. She was holding her breath, not yet panicked, but frightened still. She opened her eyes. Above her she could see the sun, shining in all its audacity. Around her she saw debris. Below her, black. The cold was pressing down on her. Only the top of her head felt any warmth from the world above. Her breath was still not exhausted, though she secretly yearned for a fresh lungful of air.
A noblewoman from Denmark. A lover. Alone. Gathering flowers. She misses him. She feels for him. She falls in. She dies. She is remembered.
Ophelia's oxygen supply was exhausted. Against her very will, she breathed in. The cold water filled her mouth and she would have sworn could the fish have listened that she felt it hit her lungs. She was now inspiring and expiring water. Her head felt dizzy, and she had no contact with her extremities.
The piece of paper folded neatly in her pocket marked 'god' in curly letters was soaked. The ink was fading quickly. He'd never be able to read it.
She was thrashing, her body in a panic, while contradictorily her mind was falling fast into an infinite calm. She was smiling, or at least she thought she was. God faded from her memory. Her parents, too, fell away. Her clothing, her house, her pets, her body, her heart... they all diminished tenderly. All she could see as she too was on the verge of dissolving was that heart she'd drawn in the mud. Crooked, but rounded sadly, it encompassed her. It symbolized her. As she died, all she knew was love.
He reached down with his mighty hand and picked her up like a ragdoll. She smiled at his gentle face.
Her pink painted fingernails floated ghostlike on the surface. Her body was stretched out like that of a dancers. She had transcended youth. She was eternal.
User Reviews
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-06-07 08:14:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by viciousness63 (user info) at 2006-10-04 15:36:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-10-04 10:31:44 (#)
Ranking: 0
You're a decent writer, but there are two things I need to point out.
First is that you start almost all of your sentences off the same way...she, its (not it's) and so on.
Secondly, you have one of the most condescending tones I've ever picked up from a writer.
Third, some of the words you use disrupt the flow of your story. I can tell that you write the words that you think should be there, not the words that actually should be there. Read this out loud and you'll see what I mean immediately.
Keep it up though. You could be really good one day.
-------------------------------------
While I appreciate the criticism, I'm sort of confused about what you mean. Condescending in what way?
Submitted by Hypatia86 (user info) at 2006-10-04 11:00:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
It was good... I could see the story in my mind.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-10-04 10:31:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
You're a decent writer, but there are two things I need to point out.
First is that you start almost all of your sentences off the same way...she, its (not it's) and so on.
Secondly, you have one of the most condescending tones I've ever picked up from a writer.
Third, some of the words you use disrupt the flow of your story. I can tell that you write the words that you think should be there, not the words that actually should be there. Read this out loud and you'll see what I mean immediately.
Keep it up though. You could be really good one day.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-10-04 08:43:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by d_prime (user info) at 2006-10-04 00:08:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
teh d-prim3 diez but nvr 4 | am t3h awsomexxorzz hero 111!!one!11two
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-10-03 23:43:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are lookin' good......
Submitted by viciousness63 (user info) at 2006-10-03 23:21:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm sorry, cali. I'm a one trick pony. Anything remotely humorous just turns out... not so funny.
I don't particularly care for Woolf's work. But I don't hate her name. It makes me think of little red riding hood.
Submitted by jfreakman (user info) at 2006-10-03 22:58:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Darkly great. I don't know quite why, but I hate Virginia Woolf. I think it's cause of her last name.
And yes, I know it's a book.
Submitted by Cracked_out_cali (user info) at 2006-10-03 22:29:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Your stuff always brings me down, but I continue to read it anyways.
Ass...
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-10-03 21:41:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is awesome. I wonder why no reviews.