Post by Moniko on Jun 5, 2009 23:54:04 GMT -5
I came up with this the night before my lit comp final (which was to present your choice of any of your original pieces of writing).
There are certain words that I would like to change (just some vocabulary touch-up and maybe exchange a few pronouns to make it less confusing etc). Anyways, I literally just named it... and it isn't too bad. So yea...
-----------------------
Ronan was sitting in a cell within the confines of a psychiatric rehabilitation center, “the crazy house”, some called it. Of course, no one knew who he was, and certainly not his name; he hadn’t said a single word since he was found. No one could place who he was or what he did; he was found knocked out in the streets of New York City. He was wearing nothing unusual; everything was normal except for the fact that he had nothing in his pockets, meaning he had no ID of any type. His finger prints didn’t return any history, and after a week and two days of searching, no one had any leads as to what happened to him. About nine days of sitting in his cell on his bed, staring at the wall, not caring to look out of the window, only eating when he absolutely needed food, thinking endlessly about what had happened, all the while not uttering a single word.
Once again he recalled what had happened… what he couldn’t say he knew had happened anymore. The furthest thing he could remember was walking on a sidewalk in New York, where he was going he could not remember; where he was coming from… he could not remember either. As he rounded a corner, he begins walking down a decrepit, run-down street lined with buildings that probably should have been condemned years ago. Not remembering where he was going and why, he could only wonder why he took this route. Whatever the case, it was a bad choice. While walking down the street, he felt a blunt object strike him in the back of the head, giving him almost no time to feel the pain before he blacked out. As he faded back into consciousness, there were two men crouching on either side of him, the one on his right was tucking away the wallet he had just stolen into his jacket, and began to stand up. His accomplice to the left pulled out a Glock 22 from a shoulder holster, and shot the man that had taken the wallet, then took everything he had. He was about to walk away when he noticed that Ronan was somewhat conscious. The man pulled out a small bottle containing a clear liquid and grabbed a cloth that was lying on the ground nearby. He doused the cloth in the liquid, which was most likely ammonia based on the smell, and wiped the gun clean of any fingerprints. He struck Ronan in the head once again, and as he faded out for the second time, he felt the gun being slid into his right hand.
That was what he remembered. According to what he heard from the guards that patrolled the interior of the building, there was no evidence of any third person when they found the strange man; there was only Ronan and the dead man on his right. Sure the gun had residue of ammonia on it, but the man did have a bottle filled a quarter of the way with ammonia in his left hand, and dirty, soaked cloth resting on his right knee. The police could make nothing of the incident; it seemed as though maybe another person could have been present and shot the man, and then attempted to frame the man they found, but there was absolutely no evidence as such. To add to that, ballistics had confirmed that the most probable and logical source of the shot was where the man was found unconscious… on the ground.
Ronan was in such a complete state of shock that he didn’t say anything to the police when he was found, and he was ruled to be in need of psychiatric help; he was sent not to prison but to this rehabilitation center accordingly. He was just beginning to recover when he heard that the police truly thought he had shot the man. Once he heard this, he truly needed to be in this place. He could not be sure that he was an innocent man… he began to doubt what had happened… and he slowly went insane. He hit the absolute breaking point when he realized that he could not prove anything, for even now he could be lying to himself about lying to himself. Whether he had killed that man or not, he had lost his mind and could no longer know the truth because he had driven himself insane...
------------------------
P.S. ...
HAI GUISE!1 EYE JUST JOINED!
lolbecausesomeonewasatmyhouseandwaslike"youshouldtrythisforum"
^.^
There are certain words that I would like to change (just some vocabulary touch-up and maybe exchange a few pronouns to make it less confusing etc). Anyways, I literally just named it... and it isn't too bad. So yea...
-----------------------
Ronan was sitting in a cell within the confines of a psychiatric rehabilitation center, “the crazy house”, some called it. Of course, no one knew who he was, and certainly not his name; he hadn’t said a single word since he was found. No one could place who he was or what he did; he was found knocked out in the streets of New York City. He was wearing nothing unusual; everything was normal except for the fact that he had nothing in his pockets, meaning he had no ID of any type. His finger prints didn’t return any history, and after a week and two days of searching, no one had any leads as to what happened to him. About nine days of sitting in his cell on his bed, staring at the wall, not caring to look out of the window, only eating when he absolutely needed food, thinking endlessly about what had happened, all the while not uttering a single word.
Once again he recalled what had happened… what he couldn’t say he knew had happened anymore. The furthest thing he could remember was walking on a sidewalk in New York, where he was going he could not remember; where he was coming from… he could not remember either. As he rounded a corner, he begins walking down a decrepit, run-down street lined with buildings that probably should have been condemned years ago. Not remembering where he was going and why, he could only wonder why he took this route. Whatever the case, it was a bad choice. While walking down the street, he felt a blunt object strike him in the back of the head, giving him almost no time to feel the pain before he blacked out. As he faded back into consciousness, there were two men crouching on either side of him, the one on his right was tucking away the wallet he had just stolen into his jacket, and began to stand up. His accomplice to the left pulled out a Glock 22 from a shoulder holster, and shot the man that had taken the wallet, then took everything he had. He was about to walk away when he noticed that Ronan was somewhat conscious. The man pulled out a small bottle containing a clear liquid and grabbed a cloth that was lying on the ground nearby. He doused the cloth in the liquid, which was most likely ammonia based on the smell, and wiped the gun clean of any fingerprints. He struck Ronan in the head once again, and as he faded out for the second time, he felt the gun being slid into his right hand.
That was what he remembered. According to what he heard from the guards that patrolled the interior of the building, there was no evidence of any third person when they found the strange man; there was only Ronan and the dead man on his right. Sure the gun had residue of ammonia on it, but the man did have a bottle filled a quarter of the way with ammonia in his left hand, and dirty, soaked cloth resting on his right knee. The police could make nothing of the incident; it seemed as though maybe another person could have been present and shot the man, and then attempted to frame the man they found, but there was absolutely no evidence as such. To add to that, ballistics had confirmed that the most probable and logical source of the shot was where the man was found unconscious… on the ground.
Ronan was in such a complete state of shock that he didn’t say anything to the police when he was found, and he was ruled to be in need of psychiatric help; he was sent not to prison but to this rehabilitation center accordingly. He was just beginning to recover when he heard that the police truly thought he had shot the man. Once he heard this, he truly needed to be in this place. He could not be sure that he was an innocent man… he began to doubt what had happened… and he slowly went insane. He hit the absolute breaking point when he realized that he could not prove anything, for even now he could be lying to himself about lying to himself. Whether he had killed that man or not, he had lost his mind and could no longer know the truth because he had driven himself insane...
------------------------
P.S. ...
HAI GUISE!1 EYE JUST JOINED!
lolbecausesomeonewasatmyhouseandwaslike"youshouldtrythisforum"
^.^