Alter (Part 6)
Part 6 of my second script adaption.
Please read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 first.
Alter (Part 6) belongs to the following groups:
! Creative Writing & Poetry !, Friends of RedBubble, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, Students and Beginners and Welsh Artists (3 per day)I cram the last of the overstuffed black bin bags into the big brown bin outside my kitchen window before closing the lid. I look up and stare blankly through the living room window at the spot where she was sitting. Where he propped her up with the intention of mocking me. Where I dragged her from before stripping her naked and chopping her up into pieces, wrapping her remains in newspaper and then putting them into bin bags. And now she’s in the bin, ready to be taken away tomorrow morning. This isn’t my usual method, and it’s a little risky. But fuck it!
I continue to stare through the window and then suddenly four words begin to resonate inside my head, what have I done? I ask myself this as tears begin to gather in my eyes.
Then I’m in the toilet, vomiting chunks of nothing into the bowl, heaving and coughing and wanting to climb into the toilet itself and swim away to another world where everything is good and all is well and life isn’t so fucking dark.
I think I hear the phone ring, but I’m not sure so I ignore it and carry on leaning over the bowl for several minutes more before retiring to my bedroom, where I twist and turn for what feels like hours. Laying there half naked in a cold sweat, feeling like I’m dying, drifting in and out of a disturbed sleep in which I see flashes of death and violence: me (not Thomas) standing with my living girlfriend, a knife in one hand, a clump of her brunette hair in the other. She’s crying, I’m laughing. All around is dark, like all that exists is her and me – the beauty and the beast, and there’s nowhere for her to hide, nowhere to run to, to escape my wrath. She is all alone. With one quick movement of my knife-wielding hand she is dead. And I stand over her, laughing, mocking.
I no longer know who or what I am. My dreams are filled with images of death and decay – images that excite me. I wake up in a lather of sweat, my heart racing and my headache worse than ever.
I get out of bed, put on a t-shirt and head downstairs.
autumnwind
okay, so this is seriously disturbing, to say the least. blah. you’re making a movie of this??? well, you still have my curiosity going. Great writing.
Matt Roberts replied
Yes, filming it Wednesday actually if all goes well :p
bloorain
I think it’s interesting how Thomas is part of this piece even thought he is not there!
Matt Roberts replied
Not yet…
kashmirecho
May be my favorite part so far. It is filled with so much emotion and you have written it so well. :)
Matt Roberts replied
Thank you :) Glad you like.