scoopy_loopy
16-03-07, 09:46
In english we were required to take the autobiography we had written for the last assessment and change the outcome, and leading events.
Originally I was in the elevator that, obviously, Amy, dies in. However, I managed to press stop. That was the original autobiography. This outcome, is different.
It's titled, I Envy a Drain Pipe
The door to my unit opened as I approached; obviously someone was waiting anxiously for my return. It was probably Amy waiting to beat me up because she had gotten into trouble for covering for me.
“I’m sorry –,” I started, but it wasn’t Amy that stood away from the door. I was my dad. His brow was creased in worry. I could hear someone sobbing faintly from within. “Josh,” he whispered, barely audible, “its Amy -,” he was cut of as the voice that was sobbing suddenly shrieked, shakily, “She’s dead! She’s dead!” I think it was Amy’s sister, Rachel, who was guilty of the outburst, and she began crying louder than before.
I almost collapsed, right there and then. There was no blood in my legs. My heart seemed to stop, and I held my breath. “Josh?” dad broke my chain of imploding thoughts, “I think you should go down the basement. But, don’t, use the lift. Please.” Now I was extremely worried, what was down there? My inside self was screaming and crying, but on the outside I was cold as stone, my face as animated as one. “Yes,” I replied, monotone. Millions of thoughts were flying through my mind, colliding and exploding with each other, coming to horrendous conclusions. None seemed to point out anything positive.
I wondered what had happened to Amy. Had she drowned in the pool? Got tangled in the spa by her long hair with no-one to rip her out? I felt so guilty I wanted to curl up in the corner and just cease from existence.
I turned slowly, and walked silently down the hall, back into the stair-well. My eyes started to water now I was alone. I would not cry, but it was proving an impossible task to hold back tears. I sprinted down the stairs, hoping one would trip me up and I would land, battered, broken and bruised on the bottom. I wanted anything to make myself feel the pain I couldn’t express.
I reached the basement, the dim lighting and musky smell suited my mood. A drain pipe was dripping onto the bottom step; I envied its simple existence. In a sudden burst of rage I kicked open the door to reveal a mass of activity.
My eyes were automatically drawn to the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance, then to my mother and Amy’s mother embracing. There were fireman putting out a blaze near the elevator doors, and a hospital bed with a white sheet pulled over a bundle stood nearby. I walked slowly forward. The only sense of mine that seemed to be still functional was my sight. Even then my eyes would not move from the bundle covered by the white sheet. I knew what was beneath it, I’ve seen law and order and CSI. There was no mistaking it.
I approached the bed. I reached out to the sheet, pulling it slowly away from where it had settled. Amy’s face was still full of colour and warm as I placed a hand on her cheek. I collapsed onto my knees crying uncontrollably. I knew my mum had rushed over and was symmetrically rubbing my back. I knew it, but I didn’t feel it. At that moment I thought I would never feel or have emotions again.
It took many years for me to get over my sense of guilt. I kept thinking that if I had been there could of somehow save her, although I would probably be dead too. I felt I had abandoned her to her fate whilst off with my new friends. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I still miss her.
Thanks to anyway who took the time out to read it :D
Originally I was in the elevator that, obviously, Amy, dies in. However, I managed to press stop. That was the original autobiography. This outcome, is different.
It's titled, I Envy a Drain Pipe
The door to my unit opened as I approached; obviously someone was waiting anxiously for my return. It was probably Amy waiting to beat me up because she had gotten into trouble for covering for me.
“I’m sorry –,” I started, but it wasn’t Amy that stood away from the door. I was my dad. His brow was creased in worry. I could hear someone sobbing faintly from within. “Josh,” he whispered, barely audible, “its Amy -,” he was cut of as the voice that was sobbing suddenly shrieked, shakily, “She’s dead! She’s dead!” I think it was Amy’s sister, Rachel, who was guilty of the outburst, and she began crying louder than before.
I almost collapsed, right there and then. There was no blood in my legs. My heart seemed to stop, and I held my breath. “Josh?” dad broke my chain of imploding thoughts, “I think you should go down the basement. But, don’t, use the lift. Please.” Now I was extremely worried, what was down there? My inside self was screaming and crying, but on the outside I was cold as stone, my face as animated as one. “Yes,” I replied, monotone. Millions of thoughts were flying through my mind, colliding and exploding with each other, coming to horrendous conclusions. None seemed to point out anything positive.
I wondered what had happened to Amy. Had she drowned in the pool? Got tangled in the spa by her long hair with no-one to rip her out? I felt so guilty I wanted to curl up in the corner and just cease from existence.
I turned slowly, and walked silently down the hall, back into the stair-well. My eyes started to water now I was alone. I would not cry, but it was proving an impossible task to hold back tears. I sprinted down the stairs, hoping one would trip me up and I would land, battered, broken and bruised on the bottom. I wanted anything to make myself feel the pain I couldn’t express.
I reached the basement, the dim lighting and musky smell suited my mood. A drain pipe was dripping onto the bottom step; I envied its simple existence. In a sudden burst of rage I kicked open the door to reveal a mass of activity.
My eyes were automatically drawn to the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance, then to my mother and Amy’s mother embracing. There were fireman putting out a blaze near the elevator doors, and a hospital bed with a white sheet pulled over a bundle stood nearby. I walked slowly forward. The only sense of mine that seemed to be still functional was my sight. Even then my eyes would not move from the bundle covered by the white sheet. I knew what was beneath it, I’ve seen law and order and CSI. There was no mistaking it.
I approached the bed. I reached out to the sheet, pulling it slowly away from where it had settled. Amy’s face was still full of colour and warm as I placed a hand on her cheek. I collapsed onto my knees crying uncontrollably. I knew my mum had rushed over and was symmetrically rubbing my back. I knew it, but I didn’t feel it. At that moment I thought I would never feel or have emotions again.
It took many years for me to get over my sense of guilt. I kept thinking that if I had been there could of somehow save her, although I would probably be dead too. I felt I had abandoned her to her fate whilst off with my new friends. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I still miss her.
Thanks to anyway who took the time out to read it :D