Closet of Hearts

What I feel is one of my best writings, short, yet powerful, with imagery that I hope can evoke emotion. Let me know what everyone thinks of my love story.

       

It's too much perhaps, but I'm fully stocked, ready for anything that comes from this female's mouth.  Within hours my heart was already controlled by this unbelievable beast and I knew as quickly as the blink of an eye that she would cover the earth with my shattered hearts.

I don't even know what it really is that causes her voice, her smile, her laughter to get my heart feeling all fragile. I don't even know why she can put me down for two hours and all I think about is how beautiful and toxic her voice, her smile, her laughter is. And my heart becomes weak, just as addicted to her as I.

Today I go to my closet of hearts and pick out a heart that may withstand her beauty. I give it a tap to make sure that it's in proper working condition, and swallow. How long will this one will last? No more than an hour. Them something will spill from those lips and again I'll have to throw up the fragments of my heart only to return to my closet of hearts and swallow yet another. It will take not even a whisper from those lips before becoming brittle and shattering.

So I grab another, this time I'm sure this one will last. He is the cockiest of all the hearts, he beats his own chest and tells the others that “He will be the last, he will be the strongest, he will survive.” But he does not, tonight, two hours, before she spits from those lips some fancy words. That once powerful heart feels her words and shivers, for he knows that he has come to an end. Tears build in his once tough eyes, and with one slight pump of blood he goes to pieces.

I return to my closet of heart, and with no second thought, comfort his shaking body and tell it that I will beat the beast that makes me all so weak. He stands in the middle of my chest, feeling his lost brethren crunch against his feet, he pounds within my chest begging for freedom. This time, it’s not flower covered words that flow from her mouth, their dark and stench ridden and my heart convulses and falls to his knees as the words penetrate his scared ears. He can feel himself stretch with emotion, feel his flesh slowly tearing, until he explodes within my chest. Fragments flying every which way, cutting deep into my puny body.

But still, even as I stand in front of that gaze, my heart gone, my insides bruised. I find myself still in love with her and leave to swallow yet another.

This time they carry weapons, the hearts angry at me for killing them off in mass genocide. They can't take it anymore. They are all lead by one very angry heart who beats stronger than the others, who shouts the words, “Protect our families, protect our children, strike this man down before we are all extinct!” But even as they stab my skin with their weapons made of pens and safety pins, I grab their leader and look into his powerful eyes. I tell him I will try my best to be strong against her words but he only shouts louder, “Keep fighting!” The other hearts are frozen in shock as their leader gets swallowed into a black hole.

But tonight her words are not dark, they are angelic. They make me dizzy, her words more soothing than usual, my heart loves it. It's glad to be within my chest as rivers of love come from her mouth. My heart does not shatter. That heart that brought an army against me now lies down inside my chest and peacefully goes to sleep, unable to withstand such beauty.

Days go by and more hearts die with no end in sight for these countless murders. Soon I will be left with none to put up against this goddess who strikes them down in seconds. One by one they go, over all the screams, over all the crying I take them quickly and feel no guilt. They are in fact mine. I take and swallow, repeat and repeat and repeat. I began with the strong, and have ended up with the weak, the young ones who have only tasted the air of my closet and the death in my chest.

After months of sweet words, months of painful words, I am left with one heart. He was the youngest, and he is now the most terrified. He watched as everyone of his kind disappeared into a black tube where they never came back. I take him in my hand and peer into those eyes, like looking into the very eyes of my soul, and gently place him on my tongue and “gulp” he is gone.

She stands before me, the wind twirling around her, making her float as she comes towards me. The little heart within me feels my body shiver with her presence but he is not prepared to die. He begins to build around him a shell made of bone paneling, he builds and builds until his tiny hands ache and his body becomes faint. He is prepared and her beauty no longer tempts me as it once did. She comes close to me and whispers “I love you.”  My chest trembles and beats against my little hearts shell, the nails becoming loose. But it still holds strong. She runs her fingers across my lips and again my body beats against my hearts protection, the bone cracking. The little heart so fearful he covers his eyes and rolls into a ball. But it still holds strong. And when she kisses me his little home crashes to the floor and he cries out in pain. But I still hold strong.

She looks into my eyes, tears gathering as she turns and walks away. My little heart, body aching, lies down and rests. For I have finally beaten the beast that makes me all so weak.   

 

Author's Note

Tell me everything...

Reviews

[MadasonBlue]

Okay, so I'm still reading this as I'm beginning to type... Hmm. The first thing I want to say:

One heart broken, pick up another, no thought to do anything else... That's beautiful. The definition of "insanity" is something like "doing one thing over and over again, expecting to get different results". This boy's heart breaks over and over again, but he doesn't ever think about anything but hearing this girl's voice again. And if love doesn't make one feel insane, then I don't know what would.

"But even as they stab my skin with their weapons made of pens and safety pins, and anything else they could find..."

"...I stand in front of that gaze, my heart gone, my insides bruised I find myself still in love with her..."

Those are wonderful lines. Despite the urging of the heart and the body saying "this is bad, stop," he still can't do anything but love her.

Alright, I've reached the end, and oh, the ending paragraph is the best. It's inspiring to think of the last, young, new, desperate heart as the only one that can conquer all the bad, irresistible temptation. Aw, I may cry.

Wonderful story, especially the first line, those two lines I quoted in the middle, and the entire ending paragraph. Great job.

That is a wonderful line.

[Dream Angel]

it is a wonderful story and you have done a great job. The imagary as you put yourself into it is phenominal, and i just want to say if this did happen, i am so so so sry she must have killed you.

[Emily B]

wow, what an amazing story, the youngest of the hearts, the most naive withstood the fearful temptress

[shythatway]

I've read this at least three times before, thinking I would come back to say something sensible the next time. So this would be the fourth time, and I'm still not sure what to say. But I think your story is really amazing. I love your imagery and it all makes perfect sense inside my little head. Hmm. I will probably come back and edit this comment at some point, I hope that's ok. ;) Thank you for sharing.

[cloister]

Wow. That was really interesting.

I'm assuming that the piece is a metaphoric description of the process of becoming a closed-off person, with a wall around, from being hurt too many times. From too many instances of permitting one's self to be vulnerable, only to have that vulnerability taken advantage of.

If that's the case, then this is a really nice piece of writing. It's not quite great, but it's really good.

I would have appreciated a little more of a hint at or near the beginning to help me figure out the central metaphor, so I could have understood the story better as I read it. I spent most of the time trying to figure out what these hearts actually were. They are swallowed, they are stored in the closet, they shatter and die, they seem to have an independent viewpoint from the narrator and yet are intimately linked to the narrator as well; it's a confusing mix of imagery and I found myself wanting a little bit more help figuring out the metaphor.

The writing itself is pretty clean--I think you have good core writing skills, and an obvious talent for storytelling. But here and there it could be stronger. For instance, this sentence:

"My heart does not shatter, it slowly dies, and that heart that brought an army against me now lies down inside my chest and peacefully goes to sleep, not being able to withstand such beauty."

It's a run-on, for one thing. This can be ok, certainly, especially in this type of impressionistic fiction. But here it just felt awkward. Also, the last clause had some of its punch stolen by the wordy and uninteresting lead-in "not being able to". To revise:

"My heart does not shatter, it slowly dies. The heart that brought an army against me now lies down inside my chest and peacefully goes to sleep, unable to withstand such beauty."

Then this one:

"But even as they stab my skin with their weapons made of pens and safety pins, and anything else they could find, I grab the leader and look into his powerful eyes and tell him I will try my best to be strong against her words."

It was a great sentence up until "and anything else they could find," which was such an anticlimax for me. I get that you want to convey that there were other things besides pens and safety pins, but this was a clunky way to do it. This sentence, too, runs on a bit. Maybe:

"But even as they stab my skin with makeshift weapons made of pens and safety pins, I look into the leader's powerful eyes and tell him I will try my best to be strong against her words."

Nice work, though. Really very beautiful, and at the same time very sad.

[Pitseleh_UK]

Hey I finally got around to reading this.

At first I was a little confused, admittedly I'm a slow reader at times, but it wasn't long before I got to grips with the idea and really began to enjoy it.

You have a unique style, very passionate, expressed through the language you use, like;

"This time, it's not flower covered words that flow from her mouth, their dark and stench ridden and my heart convulses and falls to his knees as the words penetrate his scared ears"

There are loads of lines like this that you write with this fluidity.

You anthropomorphise the heart as a character wonderfully; I loved the imagery of the final heart building his bone cage.

I particularly like how you build towards your eloquent moment at the end. By using the heart to show us this journey you leave almost no character development for you antagonist (the fine lady) which I think helps build towards your climax.

You talk of the words that she 'spits' or 'soothes', and I like that the only thing you allow her to actually say is 'I love you', which, for me, places a thousand and one questions back onto you, the protagonist.


Peace

Pitseleh

[Travis Tweed]

The philosophy of love conveyed through wonderful imagery and powerful sentences.

I don't even know what it really is that causes her voice, her smile, her laughter to get my heart feeling all fragile. -- Beautiful because it is so candid.

I cant say anything negative about your story because I felt every moment of it, something that can only be accomplished if the writer's heart(s) is/are one hundred percent in it.