Short Story Post

In a pitiful effort to get my writing chops back, I will be posting some short stories. Constructive criticism welcome. Here is a piece that I wrote in college and have toyed with it a bit. The assignment was to write out of our comfort zone and the professor chose an adjective which our story had to emulate. My word was "gritty." The piece could be considered a trigger warning and doesn't reflect any personal experiences. 

I stared at the orange prescription bottle on our old oak table. My chipped black nails tapped in an incessant beat of "one, two, three, one, two, three." It was day seven. It was day seven, in which I felt pulled to that small container that held the promise of "fixing me." My mind was in a tug-of-war between the thrill of leaving and the fear of never returning. If I told them, they would send me back to her. She made me crazy. Her almond eyes, her hair pulled back into a severe bun and her voice. A voice completely plastic that spewed bullshit from a "Chicken Soup for the Mentally Unstable's Soul" book sleeve. She wore her degree like a brooch; shiny and pretty for all to see but was holding on by the thread. I think she might be more unstable than I am. Which leads me to now. Her sessions obviously didn't cure me. I'm slouched in the kitchen chair and have become uncomfortable as my tailbone grinds into the wood, a subtle reminder that I can move or continue to feel, because there is always a choice. No one is home. I reach for the bottle. I test its weight in my hand. How is it possible that these little pills can alter so much? They can alter my brain and my life. I push down on the lid and free the pills, they are cut like emeralds and what I imagined my engagement ring to be. Tiny gems scatter across years of family dinners and school projects, one pill drops to the floor. I hear the garage door open. I hastily swipe my hand across the sea of pills and watch as they rain down onto the ground. I hear my mom opening the door and that's when I decide it's time to get up.