Doug

And the drinking part is from someone who knows personally. Drank myself silly for most of my life, a highly functioning acoholic, they call it and have been sober for one year on Sept 11th. Just picked a day and stopped. With the amount I consumed daily everybody thought I'd be in the hospital. Not a sympton of Dt's etc. Now I could tell you some stories or write some too. Keep writing!!!

Doug

No keep writing if thats what makes you feel good. I don't remember anyone posting any "rules" to any thread or this site for that matter. Heck one minute nudes are taboo, then they resurface. I kinda like the story. I was commenting on the writing itself hoping it would be helpful in narrowing your focus. Sorry if I didn't help. If there is a specific need you have let me know.

ZeroMerc

I am not drinking. I actually dont and have never drank well... anything.

I was under the impression that this was a site to share our creativity. Through the ThinkWrite posts I had started to see this take on a writing approach. Pictures are a wonderful outlet for myself however I am not much of a artist. My pictures really are for me.

Writing on the other hand is an area I feel that I excel in. I was looking for what people thought of the story over all and some possible directions it could go. For while I feel I am a decent writer I have completion issues.

Meh, its okay if this is not the place. This is not the first time I have made a mistake and I am sure it will not be the last. Just let the thread die since I cannot edit it away. I wont post here any more.

Doug

Hmmmmm... This is starting to sound a lot like "free writing" to me. A lot of freestyle rambling with grammatical and spelling errors. The story is ok, but if I must be honest, are you inebriated when you write this stuff? Don't mean to be a critic, but you started this thread and I'm just trying to figure it out and what you want....

ZeroMerc

~Page 2~

Awaking the next day on my sofa the events from last night seemed a blur. I only knew three things for certain. One, today was Saturday which means I had no work. Two, my life starting today would be drastically different from before. Three, I had become overnight a very very dangerous man for I no longer feared death; with nothing to live for death was the least of my concerns.

“Matthew! Are you awake?”

Impossible; while the details from last night were still not entirely clear one thing was for certain. Melissa was gone; ripped violently from my life by an unknown source; she could not be in the kitchen right now. Afraid to move or speak I just sat there frozen in the last moment I could recall her with me. The room blurred and those precious moments came back to me.

I had been called away on a last minute business trip. I was going to be there for a week plus maybe a few more days. Since it was so sudden I told my boss she was coming with me for the weekend but would have to return home due to work on Monday. My boss was not pleased but really wanted me out there so she relented. It was on the southern west coast so it was warm a beautiful. We had spent all day Saturday on the beach and had spent Sunday morning with a do not disturb sign on the hotel door trying to drink in every last moment before she had to return to the mundane droll of life. The week had gone by uneventfully and I had been able to get my work done ahead of time. I was getting to leave the very next Saturday instead of Tuesday as previously planned. I had called her Friday night and shared the good news over the phone with her. She was excited but exhausted at work. She had been working at getting her third restaurant open all week and it had been hard not having anybody else around to help at home. Even though I had known it was not my fault I apologized. She said thank you and she was very excited for me to get home so things could be more normal.

That was the last time I had spoken with her. I had a brought a small bag of seashells with me from the beach; the kind with little swirls that were her favorite. Only to come home to have my heart and my purpose in life ripped away.

Forcing my eyes open I turn to the last spot I had seen her laying prone on the floor. She was gone! All signs from the previous night had been erased. How could this be happening? Franticly I begin a search; surely she must be here. As I continue to search I notice that everything is where is should be and yet nothing seems to be in quite the right. The two Santa figurines that she lets me leave up are on the wrong shelf. My TV is now fully centered in the wall between the kitchen and the entry way where it had always been closer to the kitchen before.

“Matthew”

The voice is coming to me again. This time it’s not as much of a comfort as before; there is more urgency.
“You need to get out when you can. You are correct. Nothing is quite right but you will fight yourself on every decision you make until you get out of here. I haven’t much time for they are coming but trust your heart and your memories on this one no matter how absurd they seem based on what you can see”

I turn to face the voice again only to find an empty room. I whisper as I am afraid to hear my own voice. “Who are you?”

“Later, for now I must go. Just remember get out as soon as you can and find your favorite childhood hiding place. Go there and all will become clear.”

“I don’t have time for games”

“Neither do I. They come. Remember Matthew”

As I turn back to face the kitchen I see a woman emerging from within on a cloud of pleasant scents of a dinner near completion.