Het algemene deel hier je (korte) verhalen

haai,

heb je ooit (korte) verhaaltjes gemaakt en weilje die delen en kijken wat andere ervan vinden?
deel ze dan hier. ik hoop dat dit een groot topic wordt voor schrijfsters :sunglasses:

hier mijn korte verhaaltje

voor engels moesten we een horror/eng verhaal schrijven van 800 woorden hier is mijne. het is dus wel in het engels. ik krijg over een paar dage mijn cijfer. wat vinden jullie ervan?

zelf vind ik het niet echt eng maar dat vind ik ook nogal lasig
DEMONS INSIDE

It is moving, you can only feel it and not see it. I am bursting, no one will believe me. If I tell them they will say I am depressed. I need to tell someone… My mother? I will, when I wake up I will

“Honey, you need help. You are just depressed.” my mother has been telling me that for over a week now. She does not believe me. Would my father believe me? I am always asking that. If I knew my father. What would he believe. Tomorrow I need to go to the psychiatrist. I want to go to the doctor, not the psychiatrist. Maybe there is not something in me, maybe It are just my thoughts. Am I crazy? Am I mad? Maybe I am.

My first session.
Eyes pointed at me… Trying to see my thoughts. " Why are you so sad?" Said Jake a very handsome boy who was my psychiatrists. He is barely older than me. “I am not sad! I have something in me.” “Why do you think that? I know you think that I want to know everything about you, but I do not. I kind of want to know why you are feeling like this and want to make you happy.” Maybe he is not like everyone who wants to know who I am. Should I say what I feel? He will laugh. Or not? “Lets talk the next time again.”

After the session I went to to the hospital.“Please help! Help me!” I screamed. “Somebody take this thing out of me!” A doctor ran to me because he knew me. “Your mother said you are becomming crazy. There is nothing inside you. You are just depressed. Calm down.” Said Mrs. Aberson. And she went away to call my mother. When she arrived she was angry so so angry. " you always need to be in the centre of things! Just shut up with your problems and understand that you are depressed!" We went home and never talked about it anymore. I went to jake every thursday. And we talked he was the only one who understood me. He believed there was something in me, but he could not help he said. We actually did not talk about that anymore the past weeks we talked about fun things. Only he did not see I was going downwards. Nobody did. Every night I cried, I was slowly getting depressed…

One day I picked a big knife and a rope. I could not think. I didn’t want to do something but something was controlling me. My hand was grabbing the rope and slowly made a noose. “No, no I don not want this. What is happening. Please someone help.” I screamed, of course nobody could hear me. I have never been as afraid as now. I hang the rope on the ceiling. I ran to my mom’s office and took a paper. I did not want this. Somebody is controlling me! I do not want to die. My hand wrote:

My life is not worth it anymore. I hate myself. I am going to free the demon inside me. I still love you mom, I just do not want to be alive anymore. Jake you helped me, but not enough… I fell in love with you. That is what made this step a lot harder, but also easier, because how could I love someone who would never love me back. It is better now. Please stop thinking about me and just move on.

xxx Sophie

No no no. I can not control myself. But what if this is better. Maybe there is nothing inside of me, maybe I am crazy. Than I better die than go to a house for crazy people. I want this, it does not matter anymore. I can not stop it so why fight back. I walked into my room and took the knife. Not knowing I did it myself, I was not controlled anymore. I placed the letter on my desk and moved my head into the noose to look if it fitted. My heart was beating fast but I did not shake. I felt very calm. I took the knife because I wanted to know if there really was something inside me. At one point the fear was big, but I just could not let it take over. Now I was shaking, almost dropping the knife I placed it on my belly button. Not realizing I was still in the noose I cut open my belly. It was deep ,very deep. The pain was horrible, blood was running down my legs to the ground. I little bit deeper. I could not hold it anymore, I dropped the knife. While the knife was falling. Something was coming out of me. A black creature, I could see a face in it. A face I knew. I was terrified. I walked back and fell from the chair I was standing on. The noose was getting tight around my neck. I could not breath. No no I want to live. I knew it was to late. I was loosing myself and a minute later I was dead. The demon was laughing. He was free. The demon was Jake…

We hebben al heel veel van dit soort topics gehad en nooit werden ze een succes. Je kunt beter een topic maken waarin je je eigen korte verhalen deelt.

Ik hoop dat je er wat mee doet, en veel succes met verder schrijven.
[size=13px]“Honey, you need help. You might just be depressed.” my mom has been telling me this for over a week . She does’t believe me. Would my father believe me? I am always questioning that. If I would have known my father. What would he have believed. Tomorrow I need to go to the psychiatrist. I want to go to the doctor, not to the psychiatrist. Maybe there is’t something in me, maybe all there is are my thoughts. Am I crazy? Am I mad? Maybe I am. (I might be)[color=rgb(51, 51, 51)][size=13px][color=rgb(51, 51, 51)][font=Helvetica Neue][font=Helvetica Neue]My first session.[color=rgb(51, 51, 51)][font=Helvetica Neue]Eyes are pointed at me, trying to see my thoughts. " Why are you so sad?" Asked Jake, a very handsome boy who was my psychiatrist. He is barely older than me. “I am not sad! I have something inside of me.” “Why do you think that? I know you think that I want to know everything about you, but I do not. I kind of want to know why you are feeling like this and I want to make you happy.” Maybe he is not like everyone, who wants to know who I am. Should I say what I feel? Will he laugh, or won’t he? “Lets talk again next time.”

Dus dat.

ja ik zit in de 2de en inderdaad mijn spelling is heel slecht. mijn verhalen zijn meestal wel oke maar hala ik onvoldoende door gramatica en spelling