Writing Sinner

[Mitch]

[color=red]"Sinner" (Rough)
By: Mitchell Smith

I looked fixedly at his features. Brown hair, crimson eyes full of some chaotic crux. Tired demeanor, a quizzical grin that seemingly stared me back around and lighted his whole face with a mechanically rancid eloquency. But there was some tone of kindness in the way he held out his hand. I ruffled my books into my other hand, meeting his outspread palm.

"Jice, you are too kind," he said. "Too kind indeed."

"As are you I suppose," I said as we shook hands.

Holding in my inner revolt for this vile man, I smiled affably. Once we finally stopped shaking hands I began turning away, but I was stopped as the man placed his hand tightly on my shoulder.

"Jice, we are not finished!" he said, his hands ripping into my skin through my shirt. Shaking, I turned around and faced him.

"Wha..what do you want?" I said, looking him directly in the eyes.

"What do I want? Hmm? Well, what do you think I want?" He said, his voice merely a thin whisper now.

"I...I don't know. But I really have to check out my books and?"

"Jice! We have more important things...don't you remember?"

I realized something. He knew my name and I hadn't even told him. I hadn't even told him. As this dawned on me, I began stepping backwards as if I was in some trance. Back and back I walked like a cowerly animal being stalked by a tiger. "I...I really do have to be going," I managed to say.

"Stop, don't take one more step. Not one more step! Now listen...listen!" he said. I willed myself to stop. but I kept going and going. I began to turn around, to start into a fast-paced run. I began to lose any sense of where I was or what was happening or going on. Everything was a blur, I ran and ran. People flew by. I saw faces reverberating by. Not one even turning to look at me, not one even caring.

I heard that man screaming so far off. I didn't even let his words become heard to me, I just ran and ran. And then I was almost to the exit of the library, almost there. I saw the beautiful serene light as I approached, I saw the beautiful flare of the window. The wonderful, wonderful god-giving door. My escape.

Then I wasn't running anymore. I tried and tried to run only to find that I was standing again. And the man grinned back at me, wild-eyed and dramatic. His eyes pierced into me like some wild card tsunami storm. I flinched, feeling frantic tears wallowing into my eyes.

"Jice, I told you to listen, and then this would've all been so easy. But I guess they always do have to do it the hard way. I guess so," he said.

"Do...do...what? What do you want? What?" I said, the tears blurring my eyes as I held the back.

"If you come with me, you'll find out my dear, dear Jice. So this time, how about you listen?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I followed his eyes. They were burning red now, firey and ashen.

"And what if I come with you, whoever you are? What then?"

"What does it matter? Just know you're going where you belong, Jice."

"Where I belong? Where I belong? How would you know where I belong?"

"Listen, Jice, this is the last time I'm going to ask nice: Come with me, or else. And you don't want to know the what else, trust me," he said. And this time I believed him. There was some sparkle in his eye that sympathized with me. Some kind of suave nicety.

I sniffled as tears ran down my cheeks. "How..how long will I be gone? I have a family, I have a daughter. How long?"

"Not long," he said. There was some after-fallen finality in his tone.

"Fine. But you better not be lying, and this better not be some kind of setup. Because you know, this is rather strange. Stopping me here in a library like this and all."

"Yes. Come, come over here," he said. I followed. We came to an over-turned book shelf. I wiped my tears away, holding the rest I had back. This was so surreal, not one person had even turned nor tried to even speak to me. Not one person had even looked at me as I ran. Not one. No one. I pinched myself to see if this was all just a dream. Nope, no dream. If only it was. I waited for the man's next directions.

"You see this over-turned book shelf here, Jice? You see it? Well look closer, on the other side of it," he said.

I did as he said. My heart escaped into the edge of my gullet. There on the ground lay me. I stumbled over the messes of books and leaned over my fallen body. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I on-looked at my own corpse. My own face, hands, everything. It was me. Turning for a second to check around the library for anything else as strange as this, I saw that man right in back of me. I stumbled back, startled.

"Don't be startled, Jice," he said. "I'm certain you've realized what has happened by now. I'm very sorry. It all ends here."

I looked bewilderedly at him, my mouth open in a startled gape. "My god," was all I managed to say. I turned and looked at my real self, slapping it, punching it. I screamed. It was so unfair, so very unfair.

"Why? Why did this happen?" I asked the man, the tears returning.

"You know why, Jice. You know very well why, you sinner."

He was right, it was all my doing. I looked at my dead body, looked at what was in my dead hands. It was a small tissue of paper. Unfurling it, I looked at the same image that I had kept with me my entire life, the same words. It was a picture of my Father. He had died accidently at my own hand, but purposely all the same. I shuddered at the remembrance, I shuddered at how I could've done such a thing. Back then seemed so long ago.

But it had lived forever, eating at me. It was just as well it had happened yesterday. The shotgun, the click and clack of it. The loud shouting bang of the gun being fired. I had wanted to kill him, but it was all just an accident. I had pieced myself together, gone through rehab, did a complete 360 degree turn. I had come out of it a completely new person.

I let the piece of paper flutter and die on the floor. It still was so very unfair. But there was nothing I could do. I stood up, facing the man, the devil or something like it as I might as well perceive.

"You know this isn't fair, you know. I'm a different person now, I changed. I changed!"

"Jice, you can't do what has been done. Deep down, you want that moment for yourself again. But what's done is done. You can't become different then what you are. And deep down, you are no different," he said. He let out a purely revolting smile. "You know it is pointless to argue, don't you? So are you ready, Jice? Are you ready to be damned with your own wrongs and rights for your entire life down there in hell? Are you ready?"

I guess I had died way back then the second the gun had been fired, I guess it had all ended from then on out. And this man, or whatever he was was right. It was pointless.

"Take me," I said, my voice falling as suddenly as it had begun. I stared at my dead body for the last time. I stared at my life for the last time. "Just let me see my wife and daughter. At least give me that."

And I did see my wife and daughter, from then on out, all I've seen is pain.

[/color]

[vegeta rocker]

WOW.
well the only things i can catch are some simple little grammer mistakes for example when he says you can't do what has been done. I guess you meant undue. But that basically it, the ending suprised me. I thought the guy was going to molest the character but then i find out that he has a family and stuff so he isn't young. You might want to clarify that in the beginning(his age) that would help some confusion about him. I have no complaint about the ending, it is simple and conveys the eternal hell that he will face in a detached manner. The part about killing his dead could use some elaboration as to why he did what he did. But overall great story and i look forward to seeing the final version.

[Mitch]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mitch [/i]
[B][color=red]

"Jice, you can't do what has been done. Deep down, you want that moment for yourself again. But what's done is done. You can't become different then what you are. And deep down, you are no different," he said. He let out a purely revolting smile. "You know it is pointless to argue, don't you? So are you ready, Jice? Are you ready to be damned with your own wrongs and rights for your entire life down there in hell? Are you ready?"


[/color] [/B][/QUOTE]

[color=red] There, I changed it so it was more understandable, VR. That's what I meant. Thanks for bringing that up, it showed I needed to add more clarification there. :)[/color]

[Shy]

[size=1]This is good Mitch. I enjoyed reading it[i]a lot.[/i] I don't really have any comments (which is usually the case when I read your work, you are out of my league in poetry and story writing). Anyway, keep up the good work.

-Shy[/size]

[Lady Asphyxia]

[color=darkred]*points to Shyguys post* I have to agree with him. ^.^ Whoa. I like it. Wish I could say more, but, hmm...I'm coming up blank! ^^'[/color]

[Charles]

[quote]My eyes were fixed on his features. Brown hair, crimson eyes full of some chaotic crux. Tired demeanor, a quizzical grin that stared back at me back. His face was light with a mechanically rancid eloquency. But there was some tone of kindness in the way he held out his hand. I ruffled my books into my other hand, meeting his outspread palm.

"Jice, you are too kind," he said. "Too kind indeed."

"As are you I suppose," I said as we shook hands.

Holding in my inner revolt for this vile man, I smiled. Once we finally stopped shaking hands I began turning away, but I was stopped as the man placed his hand on my shoulder. His grip was tight.

"Jice, we are not finished!" he said, his hands ripping into my skin through my shirt. Trembling, I turned around and faced him.

"Wha--what do you want?" I said, meeting his eyes.

"What do I want? Hmm? Well, what do you think I want?" He said.

"I--I don't know. But I really have to check out my books and?"

"-Jice! We have more important things--don't you remember?"

I realized something. He knew my name and I hadn't even told him. I hadn't even told him. As this dawned on me, I began stepping backwards as if I was in some trance. I cowered back like an animal being stalked by a tiger. "I--I really do have to be going," I managed to say.

"Stop, don't take one more step. Not one more step! Now listen--listen!" he said. I willed myself to stop. but I kept going and going. I began to turn around, to start into a fast-paced run. I began to lose any sense of where I was or what was happening or going on. Everything was a blur, I ran and ran. People flew by. I saw faces [strike]reverberating[/strike] whizzing by, blurring into one gigantic puddle of colors. No one turned to look at me, not one cared...

I heard that man screaming so far off. I pretended not to hear, I just ran and ran. And then I was almost to the exit of the library, almost there. I saw a serne light as I approached, I saw the beautiful flare of the window. The wonderful, wonderful god-giving door. My escape.

Then I wasn't running anymore. I tried and tried to run only to find that I was standing again. And the man grinned back at me, wild-eyed, all dramatic-like. His eyes pierced into me like some wild card tsunami storm. I flinched, feeling frantic tears wallowing into my eyes.

"Jice, I told you to listen, and then this would've all been so easy. But I guess they always do have to do it the hard way. I guess so," he said.

"Do--do--what? What do you want? What?" I said, the tears blurring my eyes as I held the back.

"If you come with me, you'll find out my dear, dear Jice. So this time, how about you listen?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I followed his eyes. They were burning red now, firey and ashen.

"And what if I come with you, whoever you are? What then?"

"What does it matter? Just know you're going where you belong, Jice."

"Where I belong? Where I belong? How would you know where I belong?"

"Listen, Jice, this is the last time I'm going to ask nicely: Come with me, or else. And you don't want to know the what else, trust me," he said. And this time I believed him. There was some sparkle in his eye that sympathized with me. Some kind of suave nicety.

I sniffled as tears ran down my cheeks. "How..how long will I be gone? I have a family, I have a daughter. How long?"

"Not long," he said. There was some finality in his words.

"Fine. But you better not be lying, and this better not be some kind of setup. Because you know, this is rather strange. Stopping me here in a library like this and all."

"Yes. Come, come over here," he said. I followed. We came to an over-turned book shelf. I wiped my tears away, holding the rest I had back. This was so surreal, not one person had even turned nor tried to even speak to me. Not one person had even looked at me as I ran. Not one. No one. I pinched myself to see if this was all just a dream. Nope, no dream. If only it was. I waited for the man's next directions.

"You see this over-turned book shelf here, Jice? You see it? Well look closer, on the other side of it," he said.

I did as he said. My heart escaped into the edge of my gullet. There on the ground lay my own body. I stumbled over the messes of books and leaned over my fallen body. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I on-looked at my own corpse. My own face, hands, everything. It was me. Turning for a second to check around the library for anything else as strange as this, I saw that man right in back of me. I stumbled back, startled.

"Don't be startled, Jice," he said. "I'm certain you've realized what has happened by now. I'm very sorry. It all ends here."

I looked at him. I was bewhildered; my mouth hung open in a startled gape. "My god," was all I managed to say. I turned and looked at my real self, slapping it, punching it. I screamed. It was so unfair, so very unfair.

"Why? Why did this happen?" I asked the man, the tears returning.

"You know why, Jice. You know very well why, you sinner."

He was right, it was all my doing. I looked at my dead body, looked at what was in my dead hands. It was a small tissue of paper. Unfolding it, I looked at the same image that I had kept with me my entire life, the same words. It was a picture of my Father. He had died accidently at my own hand--or was it an accident? I shuddered at the memory, I shuddered at how I could've done such a thing. Back then seemed so long ago.

But it had lived with me, ate at me. It was just as well it had happened yesterday. The shotgun, the click and clack of it. The loud shouting bang of the gun being fired. I had wanted to kill him, but it was all just an accident. I had pieced myself together, gone through rehab, did a complete 360 degree turn. I had come out of it a completely new person.

I let the piece of paper flutter and die on the floor. It still was so very unfair. But there was nothing I could do. I stood up, facing the man, the devil or something like it, as I might as well perceive.

"You know this isn't fair, you know. I'm a different person now, I changed. I changed!"

"Jice, you can't do what has been done. Deep down, you want that moment for yourself again. But what's done is done. You can't become different then what you are. And deep down, you are no different," he said. He let out a revolting smile. "You know it is pointless to argue, don't you? So are you ready, Jice? Are you ready to be damned with your own wrongs and rights for your entire life down there in hell? Are you ready?"

I guess I had died way back then the second the gun had been fired, I guess it had all ended from then on out. And this man, or whatever he was was right. It was pointless.

"Take me," I said, my voice falling as suddenly as it had risen. I stared at my dead body for the last time. I stared at my life for the last time. "Just let me see my wife and daughter. At least give me that."

And I did see my wife and daughter, from then on out, all I've seen is pain.[/quote]

As you can see, I've made a few corrections. I didn't try to overhaul it--because then it wouldn't really be yours, but I did tone down the overuse of adverbs and some of the confusing mechanics.

It's an awesome story. I loved the ending and some of the sentences were really beatiful. Good stuff.