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Hi, I'm new here (obviously) and the real reason I came was for critiques. Oh, well, also for my stories to be proofread. Basically, I had this writing prompt from my English teacher and we needed to create a horror story. (We needed to incorporate some horror elements from Edgar Allan Poe) I did, and I love my plot but I'm not sure if my diction is well developed. I plan on showing my best friend this piece and I want to make sure it can be the best it can be! (She's an amazing writer. Her essays landed her a scholarship.) It's a short, melodramatic story with a twist. I honestly need to know how I can improve, so please feel free to tell me. Thank you so much!



          What can I do without him? My love, my love, oh my love, what am I without you?  It was because of that bastard, that disgusting drunkard that I am without you. Do I keep living or do I kill our unborn child and myself to go back with you. Yes, yes, that is what you would want, right? You would want us to be together, that is what you have always said. No matter what. I cannot stop thinking, my mind racing. All I can think about is what lead to this and how innocent things were before.

       We had gotten back from our wedding planner driving down the freeway with a romantic air in the car. He kept teasing me about a special gift that would stay with him forever.

“A gift that will stay with YOU forever….A tattoo?!” I inquired.

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But, Star, you’ll have to find out where…”

     He turned to me and smiled flirtatiously. He should have been looking forward, not at me. It could have been avoided. Suddenly, an enormous light engulfed his figure and from my memory all went black. I awoke in the car, my head leaning against the window with glass and car parts everywhere. The windshield was destroyed, the far was crumbled, and I could see a smashed car on fire directly in front of me. I looked over to him, I wanted to see if he was ok, but he was not there. I panicked and scrambled from the car onto the asphalt of the road, searching for him. I came upon two identical limp figures, both burned to the point that they had no skin or hair and their clothes were black and adhered to their bodies. I froze before I ran toward the one closest to our car. I turned him over and gasped, his face was unrecognizable, but it was he. I would know, I would have spent my entire life with him. I noticed he did not wake at my touch, I gently asked him to open his eyes, being cautious of his wounds. He did not stir. I yelled. I screamed. He would not wake. I trembled and could barely form any more words, I finally put my ear to his chest and the world around me went silent. I listened carefully, but there was no rhythm, nothing. His heart, his love, himself, he was gone. And so I fainted.

     I woke to fluorescent lights and the smell of disinfectant. At once I shot up into a sitting position and noticed the startled nurses. The exclaimed for me to rest and lye back down. I screamed for my fiancé, where was he? Where was he? They refused to look me in the eye. A doctor entered the room with look of inevitable dread. I snapped, “where is Jonathan?!”

The doctor gave me enough respect to look me in the face, before saying, “you both were in a head on collision with a drunk driver. Both the drunk driver and your fiancé had been ejected from the vehicle and burned due to spilt gasoline. Jonathan died at the scene.” He stopped to give the statement every doctor is taught to say, “I’m sorry for your lose.”


     I felt my body lose all feeling and I became numb. “You can leave.” I managed to squeak out. He remained there. “I SAID LEAVE.”

“There is more.” He said, this time he would not look at me. “You suffered whiplash and cuts to your torso and legs. We ran your blood to make sure there weren’t high levels of any fumes from the fire in your blood stream and we seemed to have discovered something.”

“Star, you’re pregnant.”  Those words echoed through my mind for two days. It is disgusting, how could I possibly have a child who would remind me of my constant lose. How could I live without him? That bastard, that disgusting, drunk took him from me. His habit of drinking took my love from me and now he sits a few rooms down burned to no recognition and sedated. He should feel my pain, my agony. He should see exactly what I see right now, my thoughts, my heart, my struggle. Everything, he needs to see it. I will show him. That is what I will do. I will enlighten him on the horrors he has caused.

    I wait until midnight and then venture from my bed into the room holding a murderer. I notice he is hooked up to ventilator connected to tubes in his nose. His mouth must have been burned shut, now he cannot drink. I tower over his bed and watch him. How can he see my eyes, my starry eyes that belonged to the man he killed, if he is so heavily sedated. I hit him, he does not stir.  Know from the monitors that he is still very much alive. This infuriates me. HE lives, while my love dies due to this man’s incompetence! THIS MAN should be the one dead, THIS MAN is the killer, the murderer, the grim reaper. He SHOULD die, it is only right. Yes, yes, it is only right. I grab the pillow from under his head, remove the tubes from his nose, and force the pillow over his face. I did not cover his eyes. Oh no, no, no. I want him to SEE what he has done and whom he has affected. His eyes shoot open, revealing brown orbs similar to those of my fiancé. I get more angered and push down harder.

  “You killed him!” I shouted. “He’s dead because of you! Now I’m stuck with his child” The drunken man looked surprised and became more frantic. Muffled sounds come through the pillow; it seems he must have ripped open his mouth. The nurses have seemed to notice the change in his monitors from their station, but I have barricaded the doors shut. I continue my work for a few minutes, watching as the man cries desperately; tears falling for his eyes. Finally, he goes limp. I hear the nurses frantically trying to smash the door in and I smile. It is done. I remove the pillow and notice the bloody mess the drunken bastard had made ripping open his lips. Laughter erupts from me and I go on for a minute before noticing something on the inside of the man’s lip. It was untouched by the flame or by any scabbing. I look in closer and notice an outlined shape in black ink: a star.

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