Creative Writing: Barrel and Burn pt 2

Friday, July 5, 2013
So I have had a bit of a productive day today and am working on some new (and old) projects, so I thought I'd write and post the next part of Barrel and Burn. This part is slightly shorter and perhaps a little less exciting than the first part, but I'm just following where the story leads.

For those who didn't read part one, you can find it here.

As always, constructive criticism only please. I was pleasantly surprised at how the first part was received, so I thought I'd keep going with this story for awhile. 
This is a story written straight from my brain, so please don't reproduce without my permission. :)

Here we go!

"I am staring at the gap between the floor tiles. I can hear my brother sobbing, but I cannot look at him. I cannot help him. I cannot move my head. All I can see is the gap between the two floor tiles. And then there is something entering into my small square of vision. It is moving slowly, but it encroaches on the gap that I stare at. And then I realise. It's blood.

I wake up and gasp for air, as if I haven't been breathing while asleep. My bedside light is on - I can't sleep if I turn it off these days - and I quickly look around the room to check that I am alone. My eyes confirm that I am the only one in the room, but I don't trust it. This is not really my apartment. I live here, but I haven't even begun to make my mark here since I was forced to leave my old, cosy, familiar apartment.

Although, to be honest, it wasn't familiar after everything that happened. I don't think I could ever see it as cosy after that.

I feel like a stranger in this place, as if I am staying with some distant relative who resents my presence here every day. It was the best place I could find and I know that I need to take steps to claim it as my own, but I haven't even properly unpacked my stuff yet. I have nightmares about opening my boxes of clothes to find them covered in blood, too.

Tonight's nightmare still hovers on the edge of consciousness and I sigh, knowing I'm unlikely to get any more sleep tonight. It's still dark outside, so I sit up in bed and switch on the TV. I have kid's movies preloaded on my TV and I settle down to watch one, hoping that the saccharine sweetness of the storylines and characters will do something to comfort me and banish the nightmare from my mind.

It has taken me five months to get to a place of being able to function after having one of my nightmares. Initially I woke up screaming, sobbing, or tangled in sheets. I'd like to say that I have become accustomed to their presence each night, but to be honest I think it's more a case of some part of me shutting down so that I don't react as emotionally. I had tried to avoid sleep for a little while so that I might escape visiting that place so vividly, but routine and simple desire for sleep won out and so I still try to get at least a couple of hours these days.

Three soft knocks sound on my bedroom door and then it opens to reveal my brother. His eyes are a combination of red and purple from how tired he is, and he looks at me questioningly. I nod and he pads in on sock-covered feet, shuts the door gently behind him, and comes and gets into bed beside me. He seems attuned to me, now, and will often come in to watch movies with me now. He still doesn't know why I have the nightmares - I think he is afraid to ask - but he always tries to be around when I can't sleep. Technically I'm his carer now, but sometimes I wonder if it isn't the other way around."


  1. Beautiful writing! I would love to see this as a full-fledged novel, though the snippets are brilliant too! I had no idea you knew words like saccharine! You're a very good writer honey, honestly!

  2. Whoops, forgot to log you out! Ahahaha love you.


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