Hi people ^^ Just wanted to share something my boyfriend wrote when I told him about the fiction writing tutorial we got to do.. I personally think he writes better than me after reading it though I am the one studying Literature >.< This is so ironic.. So, here it is:
Blood flowed down from a cut just under his eye, mixing with the tears running down his cheeks. For a brief moment it seems as if he were weeping tears of blood, this skeletal frame of a man reduced to a hollow shell of his former greatness. His arms itch, either from the innumerable in insect bites resultant of him spending all day in a decaying house, or from the effects of the chemicals his body has just consumed. He stopped trying to figure out the itch a long time ago, he only knows that if the itch goes, his whole body is engulfed in a pain so great that only another dose of the mind numbing chemical can soothe it. After the pain is relieved, then the itch comes again… and so it goes on and on, a never ending circle that has forced him to abandon all hopes of a life with a future in order to feed his addiction. A great pity, for his large gait and confident swagger hint at a once muscular and athletic individual. His rugged face, although not suave and handsome, gave an air of macho confidence that would certainly have caused many a female heart to swoon. Instead of all the wonders that could have and should have been his, he now lies crying alone in an abandoned shack, his sunken eyes and sallow skin betraying the fact that he hasn’t had a bath in ages. His clothes hang limply from his wafer thin torso, making one wonder how long has it been since he had a decent meal. Indeed, his current condition makes one ache for him, but all that doesn’t faze him one bit, all that occupies his mind now is how to get his next fix, so that he can stop the itch, or was it the pain ? Somehow he can’t seem to remember which one it was that he wants to get rid of..
© Lawrence Lim Seck Guang. All rights reserved.
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