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August 2008

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rawrbree in wchallenge


 Challenge #25
The Kind of Dirty Where The Blood Never Cleans Off The Sheets
Bree Purdy

And it’s all in the caustic, corroding feeling eating away at my stamina. The screaming voices and the blurry sight making my sight and hearing unreliable and empty. The shock and disbelief exploding from every unknown hollow of my ravaged and abandoned body. The taste of blood wearing thin on my lips and tongue.


            It’s all mocking me, what I’ve become and what I’m becoming is nothing but a mockery to my past tense state of my unhinged being.


            I don’t seem to care that it’s gone, that it is now gone further that I can ever conceive the notion of to reach, my ravaged body and mind will most defiantly not allow it. The visible blue veins screaming from under a thin layer of skin covering the bones and muscle of my arms.


            My past is done, my past is gone. I can still taste it, still taste him in my mouth and feel the sensation of being in his arms. The familiar tingling nerves of my bare skin against him. Bone against bone. But now it’s gone forever, since his blood has been spilled in these sheets and it will never ever wash out. Bottle after bottle of bleach will be used to wash the stains away. The stains will seemingly leave the sheets, but they will never be white again, never be pure. The white will never be pure and the blood that I spilled out of the one I loved as he ripped me to shreds will never ever come off the sheets that we used to share. I’ll see the stain on the sheets long after I have disposed of his body, long after it is gone and buried, when it should be nothing more than an after though, guilt to some.


            He ripped me to shreds as he told me I was nothing to him, while she was his everything, so I ripped him to shreds also. The blood was spilled with no regrets and no previous notions of the plan concerning the mutilation of the one I love. I had never planned to do this, maybe I had.


            So I sat there on the blood soaked bed with a mutilated corpse of an ex-lover at my side and fingered the sheets where the blood had bled through to the mattress. I sat there and wondered how I would ever get the blood out of these sheets. Out damn spot!


Remove the word and except where it is absolutely necessary. The word and is a conjuction that is meant to finish a list, or to connect to fragments in a sentence. You might try re-wording things so you don't need 'and' so much. I just notices it was exceptionally repetitive. It's not grammatically correct to start a sentence with and as well.

You're writing the story in first person. You don't 'seem' anything, you would know. I would change that to "I don't care that it's gone; that it is further than I can ever conceive the notion of reaching. My ravaged body and mind defiantly won't allow me to ________."

"The visible blue veins screaming from under a thin layer of skin covering the bones and muscle of my arms."

This is a fragment. Where is the rest of the thought for this sentence? Why are they screaming? What are they screaming at?

In instances where you write short choppy sentences like, "My past is done, my past is gone." I would break them up like:

"My past is done. My past is gone."


Make it one sentence like:

"My past is gone, dead like a tree in winter."

Seemingly is and EVIL word. EVIL! Try something more like "The stains will appear to leave the sheets only to resurface and taunt me as if it is a sick game I'm forever going to lose."

Something I have to tell myself when I write is if I'm going to write a new paragraph there has to be enough sentences to support it, or it goes in the previous paragraph.

Give me meat! this is missing two big things from me! Why did you bring up the other girl if you weren't going to write more about what she did to steal him away from 'you'. Maybe write some quotes of what he whispered to you to make you think he loved you? How did you mutilate the corpse? What happened to make you finally cross the line of lover to murderer? I get the jist that there was rough sex going on here, maybe describe a little of it too?

I like meat to the bones. I had a college prof tell me, "It's always better to put too much so you can take out later than to put too little and have to think harder on it."

I think you have a great teaser here, but I want to see the whole story.
I agree with joeyrenee, she pretty much said everything I had wanted to say, all good critiques.

My only additions is this line here "but they will never be white again, never be pure. The white will never be pure" you repeat the pure part, you don't need to do that, it makes the reader stumble.

I like the imagery you were going for here, but I must say after reading this and your last entry I worry for any lover who decides to jilt you hee hee