Could you read my unfinished story and tell me what you honestly think?

Dear Sherry


As I woke up, I shielded my eyes from the sun that poured through the oak window. My body laid in crisp white sheets as flashbacks rushed through my mind.


“‘…Do you want to?’”


“‘…I don’t know, I don’t think we should.’”


“‘…We’ll be fine, don’t worry.’”


I pushed myself up against the bed’s backboard and rubbed my temples, I felt nauseas and sore. I climbed out of my warm bed, rapped a bed sheet around my body, and twisted it into a knot above my chest.


Items seemed in disorder as I walked through my loft bedroom. While glancing over the loft, I spotted a folded piece of paper leaning against the vase on the dinner table. I unfolded the paper and began to read the note.


“Dear Sherry,


Thanks for a great night. We should do it again sometime.


Ps. welcome to the world of AIDS. -You’re Infector”


Thump thump, thump thump.


My heart raced. I felt numb; there was something in my throat that I


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just couldn’t swallow. The note dropped to the table, knocking something to the floor. My eyes never wandered to the floor, my heart ached too much to care.


Once again, flashbacks raced through my mind from the begin of the night to the end.


“‘…Would you like to dance?’”


“‘…Sure, I’d love to.’”


The words, “Your Infector.” echoed in my mind. “Tommy? Tom? Tomas? Timmy? Troy?” I repeated to myself trying to remember his name, for the alcohol fogged my memory.


“‘…Hi, I’m Tristan.’”


“‘…Hey, Nice to meet you. I’m Sherry.’”


I paced around the loft as tears moistened my cheeks. The bed sheet fell to the floor as I walked to the bathroom and started the shower. Immediately, steam filled the tiny plain room and fogged the mirror.


I closed my eyes as the water poured from the showerhead onto my face. “I can wash it away, everything will be alright.” I kept repeating these words, trying to fool myself into believing them, even though I knew it wasn’t true.


When I was in the shower I felt pure. Turning the knob all the way to the left was the hardest thing to do, my moment of purity was over and I


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was insecure about everything.


I stepped out of the shower; right foot, then left and wiped the mirror clear of fog. While checking my reflection, in the smudged mirror, an unclear figure crept behind me and passed through the door. Puddles of water formed under my feet as I followed the figure through the doorframe.


“Who’s there?” I received no answer.


Thump thump, thump thump.


My heart raced. I peeked around the wall, that separated the bathroom from the living room, and held my breathe. The floor crept under my feet as I approached the dark figure.


My hand shook as I reached for the overcoat that covered a body.


One, two, three. Swoosh, the overcoat fell to the ground.


Beep, beep, beep. “Good morning New York City, you’re listening to W.T.B.A and its 7:00 Am. It’s starting to feel a lot like winter with a temperature of 34°F, time to take those winter jackets out of the clos-”


I slapped my hand on the off button, as the alarm clock fell to the floor. My body jerked up and I scratched my neck gasping for air. Confused and unsure of myself I got out of bed and inspected my loft. I glanced at the vase and to my surprise, there was no note waiting to be read. My eyes wandered around in concern and fear that someone was lingering within my loft.


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It was 11:00 Am, and I was waiting for the paper boy to drop of my paper. I sat in my overstuffed chair and light filled the room, as I turned the


television on. “Breaking News” flashed on the screen. I tried to listen to the report, but when the young news caster said those words, “The Infector”, my heart sank.


Boom, boom, boom. I walked to my door, opened it, and picked up the fresh newspaper. The front page read, “Young women meet their infector.”


I ran my hand under my eyes to clear the tears. This can’t be happening, I thought. “Was it a sign? Could I have helped them?” I kept asking myself questions that couldn’t be answered. I turned off the television, put the newspaper on the dinner table, and ran into my bedroom to change. I pulled a jogging suit out of my bureau and grabbed a pair of Nikes out of the closet. I rushed to put everything on and I ran out the front door. While on the fourth floor, I clicked the auto start for my car and continued jogging down two more flights of stairs.


I had to clear my mind, driving into the quiet country would help sooth my shaken nerves. I drove to a familiar place, where my mother and I took daily walks together. We called it The tranquil pond. The little crystal clear pond held an abundant amount of lily pads. Catninetails were sporadically placed around the pond and in the cluster of trees you could


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hear the baby birds chirping high in their nest as their mothers fed them.


This was the one place I could clear my mind and forget about everything. I


laid on the green ground and watched as the puffy white clouds passed by. Some were short and fluffy and other were long and skinny but


every single one look beautiful against the deep blue sky.


The sky turned grey. Within minutes I was once again in a pure moment, with water gently sprinkling my hands and face. It felt bizarre; laying there like a lifeless weed, with its roots soaking up the water, waiting to bloom into a beautiful flower once again. Memories of my childhood rush through my mind as I walked to my car; with my head still looking to the clouds.


“What would she tell me to do right now?” I pondered


“Mom? Are you up there, Mom? Well if you can hear me I really need you to me help right now! I think I can help these poor women, but the truth is I’m scared. I don’t know what to do, I need you Mom, I need you more than ever right now.”


I lowered my head and continued walking to my car. The windshield wipers moved left to right in attempt to clear the now torrential rain. On the car ride home all I could think about was my mother. She had been my world from the age of seven, when my father died, till the day of her death. My mother had died from a doctor’s misdiagnose. The Doctors kept telling


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her she suffered from the Flu, but my mother knew she was very sick, and


it wasn’t the Flu that caused her to become fatigued and receive rashes.


She had AIDS. My mother was a nurse. When she was pricked by a dirty needle she knew it would only be time before she started getting sick. My mother died two years ago, when I was twenty one. Thinking about my mother made me tune out all my surroundings.


The hour ride home seemed like only fifteen minutes. There were no parking spots on the street. That meant I had to park in the garage, on the side of the apartment building. The garage was dark and humid. A sinister feeling gathered in the steamy air. Footsteps echoed as I walked to the Exit door. My heart began to beat rapidly when I discovered the echoed footsteps were not mine. I glanced over my shoulder and found no one pacing behind me. I turned the corner in front of a sliver Honda and looked into the round mirror that was mounted onto the wall above me. In the mirror I spotted a man clad in black, crawl behind the small Honda.


“Who’s there?” I shouted demanding an answer, but received none. “I said who’s there? Come out I know you’re behind there!”


My heart was in my throat once again. I weaved through the cars, hoping the man would not follow my demands. Footsteps echoed in the garage again. In fear, I dropped to the ground and pulled myself under a large SUV.


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“Who’s hiding now?” a man shouted, breaking the silence.


I kept my head low to the ground, watching the floor to see when his


feet appeared in front of me. I hid, silent, for what seemed forever.


“I know you’re in here. Come out; come out, wherever you are.” There was a brief pause. “Oh Sherry Dear, why don’t you be a good little girl and come and play with YOUR INFECTOR!”


A pair of blue Nikes appeared in front of the SUV and it felt as if my heart had stopped beating. I held my breathe; trying not to make a sound. I watched as the Nikes walked by my hiding spot. Hot air was released in relief. My body laid still, in fear he would come back. His sneakers were nowhere in sight, but I heard the heavy footsteps, pounding on the concrete.


My ankle ached; I looked over my shoulder straight into a set of evil eyes. My skin scraped again the cement, as I was being pulled.


“Please, stop!” I pleaded. “Let me go!”


My foot slammed into the side of his face. The evil man let go of my ankle and held his face as he knelt on the ground. I crawled out from under the car, and began to run away, in fear for my life.


“Who are you?” I sobbed.


“Who am I? You mean you haven’t heard of me?


I did not answer the mystery man.


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“Sherry, It’s me Tristan.”


I hid behind a pile of boxes next to the elevator. I closed my eyes,


hoping when I opened them, I would awaken from a dream; This never happened. He was close, his scent lingered after he walked by the boxes. He didn’t make a sound, which made it harder to tell where he stood.


“Boo.” Tristan whispered as he crashed the boxes.


He pulled me away from the wall and did what he pleased.


“Stop please.”


I laid there on the cement numb. Not crying and barely breathing. Rolling to my side I attempted to pick myself up. My body was weak, and I fell to the ground. My second try was a success. I walked slowly to the exit door being cautious with every move. As I exited the garage, my eyes grew wet. I collapsed in the middle of sidewalk sobbing uncontrollably.


“Sherry Williams. Sherry, can you hear me?”


I heard a man mumbling but I couldn’t make out the words. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked around. I laid on a chilled slab in a room that was filled of pictures from my past, me and my mother at the tranquil pond, my father and I at my sixth birthday, me reading my first book, and tons of other photos I had never seen before. There was a large blank screen on the wall in front of me. It looked like a projector screen but there was no projector in the room. As I glanced around, I found no windows, nor doors.


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A puff of smoke exited my lips as I spoke softly. “Hello.” I whispered.


“Where am I? What happened?”


I sat up, and twisted my body to hang my legs over the side of the stainless steal slab. A chill shot up my spine as my bare feet touched the tiled floor. I wrapped my arms in front of me, and my lips quivered. It was cold. Spider veins began to show in my pale legs and arms.


Where was I? I wonder. How did I get here? I paced around the white room, looking at the many pictures. The one that caught my eye was one that I had never seen before. It was of me, my mother and father. I had to of have been about two years old and the three of us were cuddled in my parents bed. It must have been winter, you could see the fluffy white snow that covered the yard through the window, I laid between my mother and father fast asleep. You could see the passion in my parents’ eyes for each other. My father was gently kissing my mother’s forehead as she smiled with glee. We looked like a picture perfect family.


“She‘s in a comma from the trauma, is there anyone from her family we can call?”


“No doctor, she has no one. Her father died when she was seven and her mother pasted ago two years ago.”


“Okay, just keep an eye on her and let me know if there is any improvement. I‘ll find someone for this poor girl."


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“Yes doctor.”


I heard the mumbling voice again but I could make out his words. I


looked around trying to see where this voice was coming from. I walked over to the blank screen and gently ran my fingers over it. With the touch of my finger tips the blank screen flashed on. It began to play video clips of my childhood. Birthday parties, family reunions, and my father’s funeral. As I watched my fathers’ funeral I began to wish he was here. The more I began to think about him, more videos of him played. It seemed as if what I was thinking about was being played on the screen. How can this be I wondered? I started to think of my mother and she showed on the screen.


“Is this here to help me? What am I suppose to do? ” I shouted in an empty room.


I sat on the chilled tile floor with my legs crossed and my head lowered in my hands. I began to think of the garage. The smell of that man. His cold touch. His taunting voice. The icy blue eyes that held nothing but evil. I raised my head and looked towards the screen. There were small photos collaged together. Those icy blue eyes, his lips, his blue Nikes and his black jacket. The more I thought about him, more pictures flew onto the screen.

Could you read my unfinished story and tell me what you honestly think?
I can't tell you how glued I was to the screen until I finished the last word...I wanted to read the rest.....I hope you continue writing you have a gift for it for sure.


Your story reminds me of watching "Law and Order" on TV and how you don't want a commercial to pop up in the most exciting part of the story.


I noticed a couple words misspelled but other than that you are doing great. Don't stop now while the "pan is hot" meaning you are "on a roll".


Best wishes,


Mama Jazzy Geri


PS...I was afraid right along with her in the parking area.. My heart is still beating fast. See what your words can do? ...You go girl...great writing.
Reply:You said you were 15 and you seemed unsure of whether this topic is the right topic to write about. To be completely honest, the subject took me by surprise- I'm only 13- but that's what outstanding authors do; they write about any subjects they have a desire for and not be reluctant about it. It's good that you feel unsure about it. It's pretty natural to feel that way. Actually I'm writing a story (completely different topic) and it seems a little awkward right now, but you should keep on writing! Also, I think it's good that you're raising attention to AIDS and other "diseases". Keep writing!
Reply:I think you are a very talented writer. I am an avid reader and If I read a book jacket with an exerpt from just what you have completed, I would most definately read the entire book. I hope you have much success with your writing career, and when your book comes out (and I'm sure it will ;) ) I will have the priviledge of telling ppl that I read part of it before it was even published. I believe you have good form and I was drawn into the story from the very beginning. I also think that you may save quite a few lives with the story line alone.


How many ppl do you know who have had at least 1 one night stand, or will during their lifetime? I t makes me glad that I'm not single anymore. I would love to know what the title of your unfinished manuscript is going to be, so I can read the entire story. Good luck and God Bless !!!
Reply:Hi! You responded to my question a couple minutes ago... so, yeah! ^.^





I like it a lot. The plot is very interesting, keeping the reader intrigued. I have to admit, there were many short stories and segments of them on here that I've read, but yours is the only one I've completed. I definitely think you should keep writing and publish this to some sort of a website.





Your description could improve, and perhaps more connections. I'm sure you know what I mean, such as in the morning when she wakes up, she could feel woozy and that led up to a sickness later on, such as the AIDS, or maybe just one that caused her to be more prone to shock and then the coma.





Either way, good luck writing and please let me know if you are going to publish this somewhere!
Reply:Ok this is what i think of your story.





WOWWWWW





I LOVED the suspense when she goes to her car. Thats the best part. I just want to know how everyting turns out.





YOU HAVE TO KEEP WRITING





Some parts were a little confusing but other then that, if you keep it going with the suspesne then it will be a REALLY good book.





It even sounds like it would be a good movie!!!!





PLEASE write more and send it to me
Reply:WOW! I really liked it alot. I mean its good, really good. I like the suspense and just the way you put it together. You HAVE to send it to my mail when you have more. I really wanna read your book.
Reply:this is super good


you should really get it published!! (:


and finish writting it, because i want


to know what happens