Dimitri - part 1

I inhaled.

Acrid fumes filled my lungs as shards of thoughts began flooding my brain, pushing the oxygen out as they filled the space, all the space. The shards were too sharp to handle, too fast to comprehend, and my body was straining for air.

"Keep going."

I winced one eye open. When did I close them? My neck muscles clenched. I was still inhaling. Shards again. Crystals, heated, boiled. This was homemade. How much could I trust crystallised extract brewed over a kitchen fire? My neck muscles clenched again. They hadn't relaxed from the last one, but somehow, they had clenched again.

"Keep going."

Precious crystals. I wasn't going to stop any time soon. Then I felt a crack. The human jaw is powerful enough that you could break all of your teeth simply by gritting hard enough. Pressure sensing nerves at the root of your teeth were the only things sending out a panic signal to your brain, shrieking and clawing at your muscles to stop. My neck muscles jerked out another spasm, cracking all my vertebrae. They still hadn't relaxed once. Panic, perhaps. Shards glided by silently.

"Keep going."

Another spasm, another crack vibrated all the way through my jaw, assaulting my eardrum. My vision was blurry. Tears from what? I tried to show a smile but only managed to close my eyes again. 'So this is how I die.' Another jolt, another crunch.

"Keep going."

Tension. Will my bones break first or will my muscles snap under the strain? The bubbling of crystals forming a sticky liquid, dancing like a sick child in a fire. Muscles taut with no more room to tighten, just pulling apart with everything they had left. Visions, of cracks forming along my vertebral disks. Not enough oxygen to remember regrets. Inklings of emotions formed and instantly snuffed out by the crushing panic. The sensation of a bone about to break. "Leaking Marrow", two words that sprang to mind. Death wouldn't be grim and black and cold; death would be frenzied and red and messy.

I stopped inhaling.

Muscles instantly relaxed, dropping my head. I caught myself before I fell, grabbing the edge of the mattress hard. The fire was out, the child was dead, the shards stopped mid-air and froze in place. The world was hung in a pause, all momentum instantaneously lost. Oxygen deprivation tugged at my sleeve, and I remembered the second part of the breathing process.

I exhaled.

Versions

An Introduction

I teach English to kids (aged around 12-14) here in Korea (South, for those who were wondering) as a side-job. The main format of the class is basically reading and discussing a book - the kids are really good at English usually, so the discussions tend to become quite complex, ranging into what literary knowledge I have and such rather than simple comprehension of the text itself.

With only 2 hours of contact time per week (per class) though, the teaching material can be  difficult to fully fit in to the class schedule, and sometimes I have to make my own material instead of relying on books available for purchase.

The following is one of those materials I crafted. It was made to give an example of "colour of words", or how word choice can affect the scene and atmosphere of the story. Interestingly enough, when talking to a close friend about this project, my friend said that he believes that the events of the story determine the genre more than anything. I hadn't thought about it in that way, more thinking of the words in a book or story to be like a director's choices in scenes for a movie - the same story (or series of events) could have a different "tinge", so to speak. Unfortunately, these examples can't settle that debate, because these stories don't really have any significant events to speak of.

Basically, these are just "vessel" stories to give examples of how wording can drastically change the feeling of the story.

Version 1

This version is an edit of a Facebook status I uploaded once - the original had a more of a central theme and story. It was also considerably more graphic and brutal. I had to tone it down for the class, and I removed the scene after the opening of the door so I could make other versions which were closer parallels to each other.

I walked through the doors to the building, their hinges creaking like the joints in my body. I was bone-tired all the time these days, with the city winter digging its dirty nails in deep wherever it could grasp. Seems it got to the oiling of the hinges as well, petrifying them frozen.

The elevator was clean, spotless and lifeless. Life had passed by here; awkward shifts of strangers in a small enclosed area, jovial chatter and mindless jokes of friends, quiet humming of a lonely occupant singing along to a tune in their mind. None of these were here now though, not even a trace. All that was here with me was the feeling of what would come soon.

That feeling.

It was the only thing that greeted me in the lifeless halls as I got off the elevator. Like a cheap meal rolling around in my stomach undigested, it made me feel sick as I walked along the corridor. It only grew stronger as I got closer to the room, acidic taste of vomit and bile rising from the back of my throat.

The door opened to the access key with a pathetic beep, like it was scared of what was going to happen. Hell if I know why, but I almost whispered ‘it’s ok, it’ll be ok’ to it right there right then. Was I trying to comfort the door, or myself? Maybe I would’ve said it out loud, if it wasn’t for what was in the room that I would have to face immediately now.

Version 2

My heart was pounding hard, like it was trying to explode through my ribcage. The winter wind was cold all around me, but my heart kept on beating strong as I slammed the creaky door open. I was finally at the building. I quickly glanced around the hallways, and noticing that nobody was there as I ran towards the elevator. My palm slapped the “UP” button hard and the doors opened immediately.

“4^th floor, 4^th floor”, I muttered to myself as the doors closed. As I felt the elevator move upwards, I focused on the number display.

1…
Could I calm down? My heart was beating much too hard. Should I calm down?

2…
No, I’d have to be ready for anything, no knowing what could happen. No need to calm down.

3…
I should be prepared. I should be ready. Launch into action.


4…

The ‘ding’ of the elevator was like a starting pistol to a race, and I exploded out of the doors as they opened, kicking wildly. My feet hit nothing but air though; I guess I was lucky nobody was waiting there for me. I had to hurry.

I ran along the corridor to the room, heart still beating like the world’s loudest drum. I slammed into the door, and as I bounced off from the recoil I yanked the door open.

Version 3

The city’s winter was cold all around, and I hid my face behind my scarf as the wind raced by once again. I was a cozy little island in a sea of chilly winter. Thinking about spring and the mountain herbs that would grow all over the place, I pushed open the doors to the building. The wind blew in while the doors were open, like a curious cat peeking into the kitchen while I was cooking. I’d give it a small piece of fish, but the wind didn’t really eat anything.

I stomped the snow off my shoes and brushed the snow off my coat as I walked up to the elevator. It was still on the 1^st floor – I guess nobody really wanted to go outside in this kind of weather. I let out a small sigh as I pressed the button for the elevator doors to open. It did feel slightly lonely to think that winter would lock everybody indoors like that.

The elevator hummed quietly as it made its way up gently. I couldn’t hum along with it though; I didn’t know its song. I would often whistle along with birds whenever I heard them, but machines seem to have a drastically different melody compared to nature. Yet we all still exist together.

The elevator doors opened for me on the 4^th floor, showing the empty corridors once again. I suppose everybody was indoors, staying warm in whichever way they could. I walked along the corridor until I got to the room. After knocking gently twice, I opened the door softly.

Version 4

This was the "bad" version. I wanted to give some examples of what not to do when writing a story. This version was presented all the same and without introduction that it would be a "bad version" however, and the explanation was given only afterwards.

My name is Jim. I’m 17 years old, and am attending high school in my hometown. I am about 175cm tall. A lot of people say I’m quite tall for my age, but I’m still shorter than most my friends. My hair color is naturally brown, just like my eyes.

Anyway, one day I was going to a building. It was really cold so I hurried into the building. It wasn’t that cold in the building, and there was also nobody else in there. I took the elevator to the 4^th floor. When I went to get the elevator, it was already on the 1^st floor.

After I got off the elevator at the 4^th floor, I went to the room that I had to go to. I knew what was going to be in the room. I opened the door…