My Funny Picture

I'm writing a book and would like opinions please?

i always wished i'd die like this, wondering wether the last minutes of life were a dream or reality. Deep inside me truly knowing what was happening but not being able to face it. i hope my mum and dad's life dont completely fuck up because of my death. As i fell through the sky, through the mist and rain that would become my last physical memory's i thought only of him. I took the wings out of my bag and fastened them on like they were meant to be there and closed my eyes. Chapter one I opened my eyes and light flooded in like poisen, burning and trying to get me to close my eyes but my lids were too stubborn. I loved wednsays middle of the week between the weekend and mondays, a bit like purgatory i always thought. If something bad happend on wedsndays then your week went to hell but if something good happend then there'd be a party. I got out of my double teddybear infested bed and nearly fell over because all the blood rushed to my head, used the loo and went downstairs to the front room. Have you ever woke up in the morning and nobody was up and you felt lonely and time had seemed to have stopped. I sat on the leather torn up couch and realised the time it was like frigging five in the morning. so my parents woulnt be up for another two hours i lit up a ciggie and listened to the soft humming of the fridge. At about 6 i dragged myself off the couch and got in the shower pulled on my white cotton dress and blow dryed my hair. I Power walked into the kitchen and had some milk and cookies, the first thing you always notice in my seventy's kitchen is the brown and cream cuboards. They always reminded me of that film what was it called ? eternal sunshine of the spotless mind You just can beat a jim carey movie. Anyway we bought the house because of the kitchen, funny really i mean arent you supposed to buy a house because of it's spacious bedrooms or property value, Then again my mum and dad like cooking so there's reason to it. I looked up at the clock i had like an hour to kill. I reckon i could fit in a good spin before school, i walked up to my room and got out my stash of ciggies and opened the window climbed out, careful to watch my step, these tiles had got my pinkies one to many times I balanced on the slope of tiles leading from my bedroom window to the small clearing just above the kitchen. I looked around making sure to check my mum and dad's window wasnt open, good it wasnt. i wasnt sure if i made sound when I spun because i never have or will told anyone so i'll never really know. I tried taping it with the tape recorder once but the tape set fire lmao that was a time. That's about the only thing i loved about my seventy's housey den thing is that it was surrounded by trees, big thick ones that hid the big old worlds prying eyes and cute chipmonks. My house was a 3 bedroomed detached seventy's build not sure on technical terms, but from the front it looked like a council house with another council house sqauting on top of it, it was painted pinky bage and had new double glazed windows with criss cross black stipes going over them. Despite it's crummy look the inside was amazing it was a mix between bohemeian and modern hard to picture i know but thats the best explanation i can think of. Well the front room is red with brown lamps and leather couches everywhere my mum and dad spent one month keeping me and my trio of cats away from it's smooth hypnotising fake leather couchiness, But they couldnt keep it up forever and when me and my cat-pack had our first taste of fine furniture we were hooked. We abused the power. A couch is a couch though right and it's like 6 months old so it would have been recked by now anyway. I'm an only child well strictly speaking i am, although when my aunt and uncle died when i was 6 they left behind my cousin, pretend sister and all round evil best friend natalie. She came to live with us and ever since we've been inseparable well most of the time anyway. My aunt died whilst giving birth to natalie's sister annie, sadly annie didnt survive either. My uncle grief stricken took his own life selfish bastard. Not that i dont like natalie living with me she's my other half, but suicide is such a selfish act i couldnt ever condone it. Natalie got over it within about 2 years she still starts crying now and again but overall she's a tough kid. I did a final scope of my suroundings and took a deep breathe, the kinda breathe you take when you want to stop coughing like your releasing the tickle in your thoat, releasing something that you want desperatly not to come out so not to draw attention to yourself. When my lungs were filled to the brim with euphoria i pushed of the ground like as to jump and suddenly as if by magic i felt hole. There at peace with the world. As to become one with the earth corny aye! i looked around it was cloudyer than usual today, Even though when i'm this high up

Public Comments

1. I really like it and love your description of things but there is a few things i want to mention: 1) You mentioned someone smoking before theyre parents are up, so this person is young and lives at home...its not a good role model to have a young person smoking in your book. 2) No one would powerwalk around there own house, they could briskly walk or move quickly but powerwalk makes it seem a long way to the kitchen. 3) At some point your write IMAO and that should not be written in a book unless someone is sending an email or something.
2. It's an interesting start, although I wish I knew who this protagonist was. You need a lot of work on your spelling and grammar. I know this is supposed to sound very 'stream of consciousness', but you still need to know the difference between "its" (possessive) and "it's" (contraction of "it is"), you have a lot of misspelled words (wreck, not reck, whole, not hole, cloudier, not cloudyer, etc), and you need to maintain some simple sentence and paragraph construction.
3. I do like it. The bit about putting on the wings is really good...original...makes the reader....well...curious..... I don't think there's anything wrong with the cigs. Good description and "feel" for the rooms. I just might want to see the descriptions and 'feel" ....adding up to some specific emotion or direction which could lead more into the plot or narrative. I find that hard to do personally. When I write a description of a street scene for example......what I write makes sense to me....and has meaning, but to the reader....he or she may not see what I feel. Some sort of writers trick is needed here.