The Factory of Dreams Forgotten

Nicolas sinks into depression after the death of his closest childhood friend. He learns the true meaning of having dreams and finds the will to move on through an out of body experience.

I heard the clanging of the church bells ringing as the memorial service ended. The coffin of my friend, Kaiden was up in the front of the church by the altar. There were long rows of people sitting down in chairs throughout the room. The men and boys wore suits while the women and girls wore black and white dresses. The pastor that was in front of the church finished bringing up flashbacks about the good times that they had with Kai and I could see the people on the other side of the giant sized room crying and tearing up, holding a handkerchief in their hands. I myself, would’ve teared up too, but it wasn’t my thing to cry in front of people, so I decided to wait until I got home. I merely bowed my head and kept a somber expression.

            The pastor finished his speech and it was time for everybody, except for Kaiden’s family to leave. I gaped around myself and stared at the beautiful stained glass artwork that was above my head. Ever since the beginning of the memorial service I couldn’t keep my eyes away from them. This was a Catholic Church after all since the entire church was huge and made out of stone. I saw the pastor put out the candles that were arrayed around the coffin and glad that this service was over. It wasn’t only depressing, but there were so many people gathered together that it made the air inside stuffy. I loosened the tie that was around my neck.

“Nicolas!” I heard my mom call out. Her voice echoed against the stone walls, as well as all the other voices of people as they were talking; their voices booming throughout the chamber. I arose from my seat and went down the aisle to where my mom and dad were. From there we didn’t say a word when we drove in the car on the way home.

            When I arrived at my house me and my parents walked in through the door and took our dress shoes off. I unraveled the tie around my neck and threw it on the arms of the couch. Sometimes I forgot how suffocating and itchy suits could be. Couldn’t something so expensive be at least a little comfortable to wear? I sat down on the couch and tried to relax. My mom was in the kitchen washing some dishes while my dad dried them and put them away. They still didn’t say anything; I felt an awkward silence taking over the air. I got up and walked into the kitchen to get something to snack on. Particularly a yogurt. I then sat down at the kitchen table, so that I could ask my parents something.

            “Hey Dad, do you believe in having dreams?” He finished drying a plate and stood there looking at me intensely, like he didn’t know how to answer that. His facial features relaxed and put the plate away in the cupboard.

            “What kind of question is that? Of course I believe in dreams, at least the kind that you have when you’re sleeping.” That wasn’t what I was trying to ask so I just let it go. I finished eating my yogurt, washed the spoon that I used as well as throwing away the cup in the garbage.

            “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Before I could get out of the kitchen my dad stopped me by saying,

            “Hold on their Nicolas, I need to tell you something first.” My dad scratched his head and paused for a second, trying to find the right words. “I know this is very difficult for you, and it is for all of us. We all go through hard times, even times where it’s so hard that you just feel like giving up, but the moment will pass. Just have your week of mourning for your friend and move forward in life. That’s what Kaiden would’ve wanted.” I felt comforted by my father’s words. I smiled and nodded.

            “Okay, thanks Dad.”

            “Keep strong Nicolas,” my mom said soon afterward. “You’ll eventually get over it.” I wished my mom wouldn’t have said that last part of her sentence, but I pretended that I didn’t hear it and locked myself up in my room the entire day.

            It was a little after five in the afternoon when I checked my clock. I was lying down on my red, orange and back plaid bed, with my favorite football in my hand. I tossed the football up in the air up and down into my hands in a bored manner. I looked at the signature on it and it was written, “Kai” in graceful cursive lettering. It brought me back to the times where we used to toss the football to each other in my backyard. We did that a lot. Kaiden lived with his mom in an apartment so he liked coming over to get some exercise in. At least before he got into a terrible car accident. I felt tears streaming down my face.

            “Stop thinking about him Nicolas!” I tried reassuring myself. “He’s in a better place now, but why did he have to die so suddenly? After all, we had a promise that we made.”

            Two years ago when I and Kaiden were still in junior high, it was the last day of seventh grade and you usually know how those go. Nobody does anything, students and teachers just sit around and talk to each other, and sometimes if the weather was over eighty degrees there would be water balloon fights if you had an extra change of clothes. I never liked participating in childish activities like that, but Kaiden would always try convincing me to because he said that it wasn’t fun if I didn’t play. When he said that I did the water balloon fights and sometimes I’m glad that I did participate.

            During the last two hours of school on the last day of the year, I and Kaiden went to the football field and we tossed our lucky football to each other back and forth. That’s what we usually liked doing together, besides maybe some wrestling once in a while. I was reading my friend’s face while I caught the football. He seemed to be wanting to tell me something all day, but maybe couldn’t say it to me for whatever reason. I could tell because Kaiden kept on missing the catch of the football more then he usually did and seemed quite lost in thought. While he went over and picked up the ball, I asked him,

            “Hey Kai, has there been something on your mind today?”

            “Uh, no, why?”

            “Because, you’ve been distant lately. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I was just wondering.” Kaiden stared down at the football in his hands for a moment. He walked up to me and had a pretty serious look on his face.

            “I was just wondering Nick, would you agree to start a business with me someday. Maybe after we graduate from high school and college?” I blinked at him a few times, a bit startled.

            “What’s this coming from all of a sudden?” He nervously scratched the back of his head.

            “Oh, I don’t know. It was just a thought. How long have we been friends? Since second grade? I just wanted you to promise me two things.”

            “Okay, what are they?”

            “Promise me that we will always be friends no matter what.”

            “Okay, sure thing. I promise.”

            “And please remember this next one because it’s very important,” Kaiden continued. “Please promise me that you will…”

            My thoughts swayed as I tried to ponder on what the second promise was. I was still lying on my bed in my room, clutching the football in my hands. I got really angry at myself because I forgot what else Kaiden said after that, but not only that, now that he’s gone I can’t ask him what it was again. I pounded my fist against my bed with rage, but I did my best to contain myself and reassured myself that it’ll come to me eventually. That I’ll get over his death and continue to move on in life like my parents want me to, but…

            Weeks have passed and I still wasn’t feeling any better. Neither mentally nor physically.  A few days ago I’ve been having some severe fevers and chest pains lately. I had to stay home from school today because I felt so weak that I couldn’t even get out of bed. My face felt like it was on fire and the sharp pain in my chest still hasn’t gone away yet. I’ve been taking some pain killers before going to bed, hoping that I can get some sound sleep, but to no avail. My parents found that odd, but I didn’t. I knew exactly that my severe depression has been the cause of all of this. I knew that I’ve had it before, but now that my only closest friend died, my negative thoughts have been going berserk. Each week that passed by the physical pain in my chest hasn’t subsided, only worsened. During the middle of the night I put my hand to my heart to feel how my hearts beating, but my heart seemed liked it was beating in a strange pattern. Of course I didn’t tell my parents because one, I didn’t want them to panic and two because if I did die then that’s what I would’ve wanted. Whenever my mom would bring me something to eat, I wouldn’t eat it because I said I wasn’t hungry. I felt all of my reason to live…vanish.

            Another week or two later, something unexpected happened that I knew would’ve came sooner or later. I had a heart attack at two in the morning. I felt a crushing sharp weight on the left side of my chest, directly where my heart was. I was barely conscious so I don’t remember much, except for the intense pain coursing through my entire body. I must’ve gave out because I fell unconscious after that.

             During my coma I felt like I was in a dream-like state. I was very aware of the place I was in and it was as if I was actually there, experiencing these events that happened to me. I looked around myself and was in a very dim room with a few candles to light up the room a bit. I heard loud noises that were like an ear splitting banging of metal, beyond the heavy metal door that was in front of me. The smell of oil and gasoline filled the air. The cement pavement I was on was cold when I touched it with my hands. There was nothing important in this room because it was just a small cold and dim room with only me in it. I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle of the door to push it open.

            I was on top of a metal staircase with handrails surrounding the perimeter. I was up pretty high and could see that I was in some kind of place that looked much like a factory. I coughed as I inhaled the horrible smelling fumes. There were machines that were pressing different words or sentences into rectangular metal plates. Some traveled into the fire to be cremated or reused while a small group of men packed the others into cardboard boxes for shipment. On top of the metal staircase I was on I could see everything that was going on, but I still didn’t understand what I was doing here or what kind of factory this was. I managed to catch out of the corner of my eye an older looking man, telling the other men what to do and where to go throughout the factory. He held in his hand a clipboard with a piece of paper on it, writing something down on it with a pen. I thought that maybe I could ask him about this place.

            As I walked down the metal staircase the gruffly looking man with the clipboard caught sight of me since he was near the stairs I was coming down from. While he talked he had a thick Irish accent, so I could hardly understand him. His tone was very serious and strict sounding, but I knew that the first thing he said to me was,

            “Ah, looks like your awake. Did you fall asleep on the job or something, kid?” I could’ve sworn that I smelled cigarette smoke coming from this old Irish guy. His breath also smelled like alcohol as he was speaking. His face was full of wrinkles, but hid his face behind the thick grayish white beard and mustache that he had. His factory clothes were filthy and were covered in grease and oil. I was confused by his statement.

            “Uh, no sir, I don’t think so. You see, I…” He didn’t let me finish my sentence. His mood lightened up and chuckled, immediately saying,

            “What’s your name kid?” I hesitated for a moment to process what he said. It’s not like I lived in Ireland or anything, so I wasn’t used to his way of talking.

            “It’s Nicolas Young.” He flipped through the pages that were attached on his clipboard and my name was on the very last page, and the only name on that page since my last named stated with the letter “Y”.

            “Ah, yes, you’re the new kid that just started working here.” The Irish man took out a paper bag filled with what looked like some kind of clothing. He pushed it into my arms. “Now, go change into these. There’s a dressing room over in the back. Go down the right hallway, second room down. I’ll fill you in on your work afterwards.” At this point I was thoroughly befuddled on why I was at this factory place. There weren’t even any factories where I lived where I could’ve worked at anyway. Besides, the last thing I remembered was falling unconscious during my heart attack, then I woke up here. I decided to just follow that Irish guy’s advice for now and go along with it.

              I was dressed in a low quality white t-shirt with loose fitting blue jeans. Probably the nastiest looking clothing I’ve ever seen, but makes sense working at a factory. I came out of the dressing room and tried finding where that Irish man went to. I found him over by the two conveyor belts. One of the conveyor belts was in front of a pit of fire that was used to toss away any of the rectangular shaped metals, melting them so that they can be reused later on. I walked up to the Irish man that was now next to two of the packaging men. I just stood there until he took the time to notice me. Everyone looked very busy, except for two of the packaging men. They weren’t putting too many of the rectangular metal squares with words on them in cardboard boxes. Most of them were going into the fire pit. I wondered why since the metal looked so shiny, glossy and beautiful looking. I was a bit disappointed in them.

            “Nicolas Young,” the Irish man began. “You can start out by helping feed the fire in the furnace over there.” He pointed over to fire pit and right next to it were big stacks of wood to toss in. There were four other men over there; one of them looked to be about my age. I walked over to where they were and the older teenager greeted me.

            “Hello, Nicolas, was it?” He seemed to be a kindhearted person. He had short curly red hair with freckles on his face and had pale white skin. I think this is my first time seeing a red head. I nodded my head and smiled at him. “I’ve heard that you were new here. My names Brandon, I’ll be working with you from now on.” I politely shook hands with him and he threw a few chunks of wood into the fire pit. He also moved around the wood with another stick so that the fire would stay strong. For some reason I didn’t think that he looked like a Brandon, but I passed over the thought. I glanced over at the other three older looking men, probably in their late twenties or early thirties, but they never bothered to look over at me, or even talk to me for that matter. I wondered why everyone here (excluding Bandon) was acting so strange. I couldn’t help but to ask the teenager. I lowered my voice into a whisper.

            “Hey Brandon, what’s wrong with everyone here? They all look so…I don’t know…distanced.”

            “Oh, about that…it’s because we’re stuck here.” I couldn’t follow with what he was saying.

            “What?” He took a deep breath and sat back down after putting some more wood in the fire pit.

            “Well, you see…people like us are in charge of keeping this place going. If not, then the mortals living on Earth would fall into chaos.” I probably looked stupefied as I blankly stared at him.

            “Just what kind of factory is this?” Brandon gave a light chuckle.

            “I suppose no one here would bother telling you anything. Their afraid that you’ll be able to make it out of here while you still can. This is a factory that creates and destroys dreams. For every person that has a dream the machines here takes metal plates and brand their dreams on them. If the person manages to achieve their dreams then they go for shipment, but if their dreams are broken or forgotten, then…” He pointed towards the fire pit.

            “They get destroyed?” I finished. He quickly nodded his head and focused his gaze on the fire sadly.

            “Yeah.” There was a moment of silence. I processed all that Brandon told me so far and came to the conclusion that I was probably dead. To be sure of it I tried pinching myself as hard as I could on my left arm, but I felt no pain. All this time I thought that dreams were figments of people’s imaginations; visions and aspirations that could never be achieved or come true. At least that’s what my dad used to tell me. I grabbed a few of the metal plates on the conveyor belt that was going to go in the fire and looked at them. One of them said, “Becoming the manager of my job” while the other one in my hand said, “Seeing the world”. The last one that I grabbed read, “Having my mother come back from her coma”. Internally I was frightened by this, but I tried to calm myself down. I put the branded metal plates back down on the conveyor belt and watched as they were swallowed up by the raging furnace below. He told me before that we were trapped here, so there had to be a way out…right? Brandon stood up as he realized what was said on the metal plates. He picked one up and read what was on it, before wrapping it up in paper wrap and handing it to me.

            “This might come in handy.” I looked down at the wrapped up metal plate that he gave me and couldn’t understand what he wanted me to use it for or how it could be helpful. I took it anyway.

            “Thank you for this.” He didn’t say anything, only replied with a light - hearted grinned. “So Brandon, how do we get out of here? Is there any sort of exit around here anywhere?” He appeared to be a bit puzzled for a moment and thought hard about it, then he gave his answer.

            “Hm, well there is, but it’s extremely hard to find. When I recently died, I tried to find the exit through a series of doors, but I had no luck in finding it. When a few hours have passed, I lost my opportunity for escape and find myself trapped in here for the last thirty years. You haven’t been passed away for very long, so you still have a chance, unlike someone like me.” His attitude perked up a bit and continued, “If you want I can show you where the doors are in this building. I have some kind of idea where the exit might be, but even so, I still won’t be able to leave since I have no body to return to.” Deep down inside I sort of felt bad for this kid, but at the same time I still pressed him for more information.

            “Why not?” He gave me a nervous smile and shrugged his shoulders.

            “My body was cremated.” I regretted asking.

            “Oh.” I hesitated for a few moments before speaking again. “In that case why are you so willing to help me?”

            “Because I would feel bad if you ended up like me and the rest of us here.” He replied as if it was the simplest question in the world. “Being stuck here in this dirty factory for all eternity; it’s not a way to live.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “At the same time I don’t think wallowing in self " pity is a way to live either.” I frowned and I blurted out,

“Then how do you think I’m supposed to live?!” Some of the other men in the vicinity turned our way for a second from my outburst, but then went back to their work. Brandon looked at me with a solemn expression.

“Only you know the answer to that.” I was taken aback at first by his statement. I felt anger and frustration well up inside of me.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that it could be worse for you. It’s a part of life to have someone you know or that’s close to you die. I’m not denying that it hurts or that you'll ever be able to forget it, but if I could I would much rather be in your shoes then the ones that I’m in right now.” Then the realization slapped me in the face. How could I have been so blind? Here I was making a big deal out of a suffering that was fleeting while Brandon was forever stuck here in this grubby and gloomy factory, and he was more cheerful then I was! He pointed to the hallway that was nearby where we were. “If you go down that hallway and continue going down, then you might find the exit over there. Let me just warn you that you might encounter something here that will prevent you from finding the exit.” His tone lightened up a bit and he smiled. “So good luck Nicolas.” I stood up to my feet, his words of encouragement filled my heart.

            “Thank you Brandon, I’ll never forget what you’ve said and done for me.” He put up his thumb.

            “No problem, now hurry up before our Irish manager finds out and comes back. I don’t want to see you back here ever again.” With that I clutched the present that he gave to me tightly in my hands and surveyed the area before I made my next move. At the time there was hardly any workers around. I think they were probably on break or something. This gave me the opportunity to rush into the hallway as fast as I could so that I can get the hell outta here.

            The hallway was tight and narrow. Not only that, it was cold as well. I could literally feel myself shaking as my sweat cooled off, making me feel even colder than before. The flooring was made out of grey cement that absorbed the winter air and there were doors on either side of the hallway. They were a light chocolate brown color and the doorknobs on them were a beautiful shiny gold. Being a little claustrophobic I wasn’t doing too well with the tight and narrow spaces, so I didn’t waste any time running down this hallway as fast as I could. After all, the faster that I got out of here and back into my body the better. I needed to do so before my parents realize that I’m dead.

            Not only was that a problem, but the hallway I was dashing down was long, really long. It seemed to go on forever in an endless cycle, but I kept on running and on either side of me I passed by so many doors that I didn’t even know which one was the way was out. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and while doing so, I paid careful attention to the numbers on the doors. Each door was labeled with a number. This could be a crucial as to which one was the exit. The number on the first door that I’ve seen was the number “500” posted on the door, like I see in hotels or buildings to mark the number of different rooms. I was thinking to myself, No wonder why this hallway keeps going on and on, there are over five hundred rooms in this place. I stared at the door that was right next to me, on it, it said, “300”. I decided to open the door just for the heck of it. I lazily turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, but all that I saw in the room was darkness. The floors and walls on the inside also appeared to be made out of grey cement. There wasn’t anything in the room whatsoever, just a vacant small space. I looked through the other doors that were nearby while I was at it, but they were all the same on the inside.

            “What’s wrong with this place?” I asked out loud. Of course there was nobody else around besides myself, so the only one who answered me was the silence that lingered through the air. I brushed away my confusion and sprinted down the hallway.

            I continued to search through every door that I passed by, but none of them were the exits out of this factory. Every room I peeked into was the same vacant, small and cramped murky room that were just like the thirty other ones that I’ve seen. The doors were beautiful on the outside, but on the inside were cold, dim and depressingly dark; it was deceitful. For every door that failed to be the exit, the more I felt like just giving up and staying here for an eternity. The more I felt like letting go of myself and all that I had when I was alive, like it was all just a bad dream.

I took a break and sat down, leaning against the hallway wall and setting down the present that Brandon gave to me before I left. I set down the wrapped metal besides me and gawked up at the number door that was in front of me. “99” was all that was inscribed on it. I certainly went through a lot of doors that’s for sure. I wondered how long I’ve stayed here when calculating how fast or slow time went on Earth. For as far as I could know, months or even years could’ve passed. That’s when I stared down at the metal plate that Brandon wrapped for me in newspaper and gave to me. I wondered what it could be, since it was taken from the conveyor belt where all broken or unfulfilled dreams were meant to be thrown away. Burned up by the very pits of hell, but for whatever reason Brandon took it and entrusted this dream to me. I figured that it couldn’t hurt to open it, so I took it in my hands and unwrapped the newspaper that was covering it, ever so slowly.

When I managed to muster up all the courage that I had in me, I read what was branded on the metal plate,

Don’t ever give up

That was it. It all came back to me now. The second most important promise that Kaiden told me on that last day of school when we were in seventh grade. I could hear his words ringing in my head. I felt ashamed because right after Kaiden died, I broke my promise and completely let depression swallow me whole. I made sure to burn the image of that metal plate in my mind that said those very words and right after I read it, I now realized that life is temporary and death is forever. At the time when I was letting sorrow eat me up, little by little each day, I wished for death to take me away forever, and forgot that important fact. As I thought these things tears streamed down my face and landed onto the cold metal plate. I clutched it tightly in my hands and arose to my feet, feeling a new feeling that I haven’t felt in a while. Confidence. I swiftly rushed down the hallway as fast as I could, knowing that the enemy that was holding me back was myself.

As I passed by each door, the numbers got smaller and smaller, until I came to the last door at the end of the hallway. It was a door that said “#1” carved on it, but this was different from the other ones. It was on the wall right where the hallway ended. Sure it had the same chocolate brown color and golden doorknob as the other ones, but for some reason there was something special about this door; it gave off a cheerful and warm hearted aura, unlike the other ones that had a hint of sadness to them. I didn’t know why I knew, but I smiled and said,

“Well this is it, I’m going back home.” I reached out my hand for the doorknob and as I gradually opened it there was a blinding white light that enveloped my entire being. I felt the warmth of the light enter into my skull and burning away the darkness that was kept in there for so long. I walked through the door and from behind the door silently closed and it naturally disappeared from the hallway altogether.

I began stirring awake and I was lying on my soft comfy bed. I took in a slow and deep breath before opening my eyes to stare at the ceiling. I surveyed my room and everything was the same as I left it. More importantly I turned the clock around to face my direction and it was seven thirty in the morning, on the same morning that I had that heart attack. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and I could hear my mom calling for me from the kitchen. Probably for breakfast. Being it a Tuesday morning, I lazily got up from my bed and got dressed before going in the kitchen.

I walked through the house hallway before making a right into the kitchen. I saw that my mom was making buttermilk pancakes for breakfast this morning. They certainly smelled delicious. I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down in one of the chairs. My mom gleefully smiled at me and said,

“Good morning Nicolas.”

“Good morning Mom,” I replied back. I was still recovering from that strange dream that I had; if it was even a dream at all. Even so, I was glad to be back and alive. I will never forget what I learned from that dream. The importance of never giving up, even when things seem to be so bad that you feel like giving up all hope. My mom gave me the pancakes on a plate and I began eating.

“Don’t forget Nicolas, later on today you have a doctor’s appointment that we have to go to.” I was a bit startled by this. I had completely forgotten about that. My mind was racing so much from the dream or spiritual event that I just had, that I didn’t bother to remember that little physical I had to go to. I wondered what the doctor would say to me after taking some tests on me, for how my physical health’s doing so far. After all, I just had a heart attack this morning, but I decided to forever keep that a secret from my parents, even taking it down to the grave with me. I prepared myself that morning.

A few weeks later I got the physical results as well as for the blood test that they gave me. My mom gave it to me so that I can look at it and it said that I was completely normal and healthy. I was blown away by this because I was sure that there might’ve been something wrong with me before. I mean seriously, I had a heart attack in the morning! But lately I have been feeling a lot better than I did before. Not too long ago I’ve gotten over Kaiden’s death, I’ve been eating more lately and been socializing at school more then I used to. I just made a few new friends too, but sometimes, when I think back on it, when I was in middle school, my only friend was Kaiden. I compare that to now and thought that I’ve made a big improvement. I also thought that the dream that I had that one day, after having a heart attack, helped me realize that I shouldn’t wallow in my pain and despair and to keep moving forward in life.

As I laid down on my bed one day, thinking about the dream or spiritual event that I had of what seemed like a long time ago, I smiled and said to myself,

“You know what? I didn’t even ask Brandon where the fulfilled dreams were shipped to.”

Author's Note

Please tell me what you like/don't like about the story and what stood out to you the most. Thank you!

Reviews

[Jaz]

"I myself, would’ve teared up too, but it wasn’t my thing to cry in front of people, so I decided to wait until I got home. I merely bowed my head and kept a somber expression." This bit seems a bit weird to me. Maybe describe the character fighting to hold back tears, instead of just not crying. Maybe they're chewing on the inside of their cheek? If I were you, I'd describe a bit more of a struggle here.

"This was a Catholic Church after all since the entire church was huge and made out of stone." Maybe just describe the church's appearance. The fact that it's a Catholic Church isn't important unless you're foreshadowing something to come.

"I got up and walked into the kitchen to get something to snack on. Particularly a yogurt" Again, not exactly pivotal details, but this is okay to leave in. Maybe consider combining the two sentences somehow.

"I pounded my fist against my bed with rage" Don't just tell us about the rage, show us the rage. Have him yell, scream, cry, throw something. Make us feel his rage.

"Weeks have passed and I still wasn’t feeling any better. Neither mentally nor physically. A few days ago I’ve been having some severe fevers and chest pains lately. I had to stay home from school today because I felt so weak that I couldn’t even get out of bed. My face felt like it was on fire and the sharp pain in my chest still hasn’t gone away yet. I’ve been taking some pain killers before going to bed, hoping that I can get some sound sleep, but to no avail. My parents found that odd, but I didn’t. I knew exactly that my severe depression has been the cause of all of this. I knew that I’ve had it before, but now that my only closest friend died, my negative thoughts have been going berserk. Each week that passed by the physical pain in my chest hasn’t subsided, only worsened. During the middle of the night I put my hand to my heart to feel how my hearts beating, but my heart seemed liked it was beating in a strange pattern. Of course I didn’t tell my parents because one, I didn’t want them to panic and two because if I did die then that’s what I would’ve wanted. Whenever my mom would bring me something to eat, I wouldn’t eat it because I said I wasn’t hungry. I felt all of my reason to live…vanish." This entire paragraph feels kind of rushed, try splitting it up into separate little stories/anecdotes?

This is a really good story with an excellent message, but with every story, there is room for improvement. The idea could be made into a full length novel. If you want to elaborate on the scenes, that might be the route you want to take. Either way, good luck. I enjoyed reading this!

[XMorris91]

Young writer with so much potential from start to finish I was captured in your words. I love the concept and how it was presented to me. You have serious talent. Keep it up and just make sure to continue going back and revise because some parts you thought was great could be expanded further. Other than that keep up the great work!