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"Guilt"
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29-10-2012 6:21pm#1Hey guys
I've never really posted here, but I like to write sometimes. Ever since I finished school I sort of stopped, but I'd like to try and get back into the habit of it. This is a story I wrote for LC English but I'd like to see what others think of it - constructive criticism of what to avoid for next time I write, clumsy descriptions, etc.
It's not inappropriate as far as I'm concerned, though my teacher did laugh at the first paragraph being "racy" so eh..be warned? :P
The title of it is Guilt. Hopefully it's not too bad!The last thing she remembered from the night was the familiar feeling of being kissed. But it was different this time, there was no stubble, and there was a tongue piercing. Through tear-soaked eyes and eyeliner rivulets she saw her fears confirmed: lipstick, a faint shade of blue having mixed with her own cherry-red and made purple. Not only had she cheated on her boyfriend, she’d kissed a girl. Seized with contrition, she picked up her bag and left. She got into her car and turned on the ignition, splashing her hands and her seatbelt with tears and the remains of her vodka.
City lights coruscated in a blurred haze, a culmination of her tears and intoxication. She couldn’t distinguish between the two sides of the road; she couldn’t tell if the red lights beaming so sharply into her eyes were traffic lights or a car’s headlights. A sober, sound mind would give pause at the prospect of either – but she was drunk. Then they got closer. And closer. The baritone beep of a horn came muffled to her ears but when the windows smashed, she heard it clearer, but only for an instant. If she’d been conscious it’s likely she’d have heard the screech of metal and felt the glass rain down on her and puncture her skin, the screams of pedestrians snapped to sobriety by the serrated shards of metal which snapped off the car upon impact, but she was out cold.
Paramedics arrived at the scene but she and the car were gone beyond repair. Her body was loaded into the ambulance to be put into the morgue, to be identified as quickly as possible – the smell of a rotting body often wafted around the building, and the myriad of cuts on her body made it slightly more ghastly than that which the hospital normally catered for.
***
“Yes, a woman. 5 ft 4, blonde, blue eyes. No, we don’t know for sure if she’s your girlfriend, sir, but that’s why we’re requesting you come to the hospital. She’s been here for a few days and we don’t know who she is. It’s quite urgent.”
The secretary put down the phone, it clicked into place. A sigh escaped her throat. The girl had been no older than 22, she’d been told, and what a tragic way to go. Any remnants salvaged from the car – well, if you could call a crumpled heap of metal and glass a car; they’d spent 90 minutes trying to weave her body out without causing any further damage – were now lined up neatly in plastic bags on the desk. A phone, a make-up mirror and scraps of paper with curlicued handwriting: all useless. The phone had a PIN code, the mirror was rather redundant anyway, and the paper could not be organised to form any kind of coherent message. Specks of blood dotted each and reminded all what had happened, adding an eerie air to the hospital.
***
Johnathan’s hands shook as he opened the car door; lucky to have made it there in one piece, such was the level of his anxiety. Step by apprehensive step he drew closer to the entrance of the hospital and closer to confirming his fears.
He was greeted by the secretary Madeline. She had removed the items recovered from the car in tactful preparation for Johnathan’s arrival – his story had left the staff convinced that it was his late girlfriend who’d owned them, he didn’t need to see them, it would have been distressing. All the signs pointed that way anyway: they’d had a fight, she’d left, she hadn’t answered her phone and she hadn’t come home.
“Hi,” he started, “I’m supposed to go visit the morgue. Could you direct me?”
“Of course. It’s on the seventh floor. If you follow the signs you should find it no problem.”
“Thank you” replied Johnathan, smiling politely, a typical default pleasantry. There wasn’t much to smile about when she had just directed him to his girlfriend’s gruesome corpse.
The elevator rose slowly and people seemed to be getting in and out at every floor. At last the number 7 lit up, and as it did so Johnathan started to sweat with dread. With every step his mouth became a little drier; his heart beat a little faster, and when he reached the morgue door he felt it would burst out of his chest.
“Follow me, please” said the doctor in a monotonous, apathetic voice. It certainly didn’t help Johnathan’s nerves.
He turned around to face Johnathan when they reached a drawer numbered “33A”. Was that all she was? A number and a letter?
“I’m sorry, sir. Before I open this, would you like a seat? Do you need to sit down?”
“JUST OPEN THE GODDAMN DRAWER!” he snapped, repressed worries rushing to the forefront of his mind like feral waves. Tears splashed from his eyes as he finished his sentence, as he apologised for his outburst.
“I’m sorry, sir, of course”. And with that the body was carefully and solemnly removed, stretched out on its back, eyes to the sky and glazed over. Dried blood matted her hair but she was unmistakeable to Johnathan.
“Yes…yes, it’s Victoria…”
Victoria. Four beats long and one woman whole. A woman once so full of life now lying rigid in a hospital with just one visitor so far.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll leave you for a moment alone if you like, I need to update our system now that she’s been identified.”
The doctor patted him on the shoulder as Johnathan bit his thumb in a futile attempt to hold back his tears. The door closed behind him and Johnathan was alone now.
He couldn’t bear to touch her hair; it would never be as soft as he remembered it. He refrained from one last caress of her skin; half-closed cuts had seized up in the cold conditions and it would never be as smooth as he remembered it. He couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes and see that vacant stare looking back at him; she wouldn’t see him, there was no life in her anymore. Her right hand did not have any cuts on it though, just two broken nails. He lifted it gently one last time, her hand touching his coldly in unconscious affection, and with that he slid the stretcher back into its makeshift coffin and blew a kiss, so as to not place his lips on this unrecognisable remnant of his beautiful girlfriend.
He left the hospital shortly afterward and got a bus home, resolving to take the car some other time – one tragic accident was enough and in his shocked state he didn’t think he’d be able to drive.
It was difficult for everyone – those who had to see the body, remove it from the car, place it in the morgue, and Johnathan to have to identify it – but it was over. The 5 ft 4, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl now had a name. She had had friends, she had had family, and now, she had a funeral date. The mystery was solved, all that was left to do was lay her to rest.2
Comments
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Wow, thank you for the long post.
I agree with pretty much all of it, I knew some things definitely read awkwardly (seized with contrition being one of them) but couldn't quite think how to fix it.
I actually did my LC this June, got an A2 in the end so it was nice to see that I managed to keep up a nice standard to the end.
Nope, nothing deliberate there - that's just how I actually spell them. I think most people would write Jonathan and Madeleine, but being honest I rarely see them written either way and just wrote what seemed simpler.pickarooney wrote: »Johnathan/Madeline - unusual spellings of these names. Deliberate?
Yes, probably actually, I just imagined that she'd also be feeling penitent and thought might be a better way to convey it - I should have probably thought about it a little more!pickarooney wrote: »'seized with contrition' - this reads a bit awkwardly, and out of sync with the language of the rest of the piece. It's more guilt than penitence that she feels, no?
That was bad description on my part again - I meant it as in spilling vodka on her hands and the seat, while tears also fell onto both, to kind of give an image of clumsily/drunkenly turning the ignition.pickarooney wrote: »how does she splash tears on her hands as she's turning the ignition?
Didn't even think of that! Thanks.pickarooney wrote: »cars' headlights are white/yellow, rear (tail) lights are red. Rear lights don't really beam.
She'd used the mirror to see the lipstick though, so I thought I should leave it there. Not for any sort of effect, really, just because I imagined if that happened in a movie they'd have it there for some reason.pickarooney wrote: »"the mirror was rather redundant anyway" - why is the mirror redundant 'anyway'? Maybe not mention it if it serves no purpose to the story?
Another good pointpickarooney wrote: »"adding an eerie air to the hospital" - a few specks of blood wouldn't change the aspect of a hospital.
Definitely does!pickarooney wrote: »"Johnathan’s hands shook as he opened the car door; lucky to have made it there in one piece, such was the level of his anxiety"
You move from close narrative to a more judgemental description to telling us what you've already shown. Try with 'grateful' instead of lucky and drop everything after 'piece' and see if it reads better.
Oh, the idea wasn't that Johnathan is observing that Madeline had moved them, it was more a narrative to prevent confusion - if she hadn't moved them then I'd ask myself why he didn't recognize her possessions.pickarooney wrote: »You've just introduced Johnathan's POV and with the structure of your story that's all kosher, but you immediately start describing things he can't know (the actions of Madeline before he gets there). If you need to have Madeline move the items, do it in her section.
Nope, I meant for it to be imagined that she was lying in the drawer ready to be put back in - no lifting on or off, if that's what you mean.pickarooney wrote: »Is the body actually removed from the drawer? On TV they normally leave it in.
I can't believe I left out something that important! Let's pretend he heard about the accident, couldn't reach his girlfriend, knew her tendencies and had a bad feeling, so decided to check. :Ppickarooney wrote: »How did they eventually link the dead woman to Johnathan (and not, say, to a family member)? You don't have to tell us but it's a question I as a reader want to know the answer to.
Yeah I originally thought I should go back and change it (while writing I just couldn't think of a better way to get the doctor out of the room), but I felt it showed that the doctor didn't know what to say, especially when Johnathan had just snapped at him.pickarooney wrote: »"I need to update our system now that she’s been identified." - it seems a bit tactless to say this but I can buy that the doctor isn't the most empathetic being.
That sounds much better - I only ended it that way because the original title was "A story in which a mystery is solved", so I had to have some sort of solid conclusion. The jacket would be a very nice link back to what she'd done I think. Thanks for the idea and thank you for the feedback, I really appreciate it!pickarooney wrote: »The end kind of peters out to nothing. You could safely leave out the last two paragraphs I think. Or have a bit of a twist - he's relieved to see that it's not her because she's all smashed up and wearing a jacket he's never seen before but as the drawer is pushed back in he recognises her toe ring...
Overall, a very good job.
Thank you!FudgeBrace wrote: »I think that's really good, well done 0
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