A Story by psychocherri

I wrote this essay for my 11th grade english class. I still have no idea what I got on it. But one thing I want to leave you with...Did this really happen or is it a work of fiction?

When you hear the word fairytale what do you think of? To most it's faeries, magic, princes and princesses. To me it's terror, darkness, and death. This is my world and I love it all. I dance with the demons in the darkness of the night. My prince is of the undead, a vampire so to speak. My home is in the darkness and I shudder to the light. In my world what happiness to you is misery to me. You can't even imagine the horrors that play like movies in my mind.
    Out in the real world I scare the people around me. I'm violent and uncontrollable. You can try and tame me. Try to lock me up inside, but I'll just come back to haunt you. There is no way to get rid of me. I'm like a disease that's slowly killing you. There is nothing you can do to stop me, I'm out of control.
    People, well they just stare at me in utter disgust. When I burn insects or grass in my giant black hoodie. They watch as my emotions run through the extremes. Cowering in fear as I tell them what's on my mind. It's hard to be the girl people are afraid of. To be the girl everyone talks about in disgust. It makes me even angrier and sooner or later I'm pissed off at the world.
    My mind can't stay on track for more than a second. And what runs through my mind is of the unthinkable. To be trapped in my mind would be an eternity in hell. As you tumble down the rabbit hole into an abyss of the most twisted images ever. I'm trapped in wonderland starring at the real world through the looking glass. I'm loved by some and feared by others.
    I bet you are wondering how I came to be this way. I could tell you about that incident, but I'm sure it will scare you. It was the summer before my seventh grade year. I lived in Killeen, Texas in a neighborhood surrounded by a dying wood. In this wood was a place called Devil's Pond. It was our favorite place to play.
    One day the kids in the cul-de-sac decided to play a game called Manhunt and I got to be it. Wearing my blue jean shorts and a white tank top, I shot off running towards Devil's Pond. I ran through thorns and poison ivy. My body stung as the blood dripped onto my poison ivy rashes. So I stopped to listen for any footsteps.
    I slowly walked into the middle of Devil's Pond, it had dried out that day, and continued until I reached the other side. As I walked I started to see the most horrifying things. I watched demon shadows dance along the trees. People hung by their intestines or decapitated on the ground. Skinned corpses stood all around me and the smell of burning flesh filled my nose and stayed their for a while.
    I was terrified and did not know what I was seeing. I ran back the way I had came, stopping when I heard a voice call my name. It was a voice that sounded as sweet as honey, but as dangerous as poison. The voice grew louder and louder as it continued to call out my name. The voice then became higher and higher until it was so high that my ears began to ring.
    Instantly I covered my ears, but I could still hear the voice calling my name in this high pitched tone. Images started flashing through my head, so grotesque that I began to fear for my life. Then suddenly the pond caught fire, and the smoke began to rise. The heat was so intense I began to scream, all I could do was pray that someone would find me.
   I closed my eyes and prayed that it would all end. What seemed like hours later I felt the cold sensation of water hit my body and I instantly opened my eyes. The fire was gone, the weeds still around unharmed. I looked down at my body and all I saw was my previous cuts and rashes. I had come out of that fire untouched.
   I no longer think about that day as much. It became another useless memory to me. Although I will always remember how it changed my life. It turned the sweet and loving girl from the sixth grade into a violent, uncontrollable monster I still am now. I still cannot explain what happened to me, but it has made me who I am today.

© 2011 psychocherri

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Constructive Criticism:
I can find things that be corrected, but I get the feeling you don't want any comments on grammatical corrections so I'll skip to what I think.

I loved how you used the reference to "Alice in Wonderland." I also liked your description of the voice as "sweet as honey, but dangerous as poison."

As for whether this piece is fact or fiction, it's hard to say. For myself, it's "neither here nor there" since I'll probably never find out whether it happened or not. However, leaving the reader in suspense is the mark of a good writer; leave them wanting more. Good work.

Posted 9 Years Ago

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Added on September 14, 2011
Last Updated on October 7, 2011
Tags: prose, academic writing, essay



East Lansing, MI

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