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OK, so this is by a DJ and writer I know and he would like some critic/thoughts/advice. It contains some more adult themes and a few swear words. I ask that you not post it anywhere but in this thread.
oh and dont quote all of it, if you want to say something about a certain part, thats fine, but please keep it small


















The Ice Queen of Suite 1754
by Tom Rhodes
*
October 8th, 2003. 8:20 AM. The sunlight filtered through the windows and onto the face of one Anna Diane Miller. She had sworn that she had securely closed the blinds over the glass, but somehow the sunlight had worked its way through, crept across the dorm room’s carpet, and fingered at her face until it found her tender eyelids.
She awoke with a groan and turned away from the light, covering her face with a lazy arm that she draped over her head. It was far too early to deal with the day, especially a day like this. Her mind flicked back and forth to the half-finished essay that lie on her desk just feet from her head. Dark black smudges graced the sections where she rubbed at the drying ink--a practice she had started back in third grade and hadn’t been able to kick since.
She caught a half-hearted glance at the red eyes of the digital clock on the desk. 8:20.
“s**t,” she muttered. She would be late for her first class in about five minutes. As she considered skipping it, she pushed herself up and began to get ready for the oncoming day.
If I had just fifteen more minutes of sleep, her mind pinged. She mulled over and then rejected the proposal. No, she couldn’t skip class today, for the future was strewn out before her and it looked bright. What better way to start it out than with a fresh slate?
After an additional ten minutes of preparation and a quick trip to the bathroom, she moved off to face the day.
*
December 23rd, 2002. 9:15 PM. Christmas break for school’s across the nation, and where was she? Was she enjoying the freshly fallen snow--which glistened like a smile on the landscape--or having a dinner at home with the family? No, in fact, Anna was sitting in a rec room with her friends Michael, Anthony, Lisa, and Jessica (Jezzie, for short).
There was a quick inhalation of air and smoke followed by a whooping cough.
“Ha ha ha! Jezzie, when did you do this last?” Anthony asked, his mind swimming with green. Jezzie tried to answer, but was struck by another round of coughs, smoke still puffing from her reddening face.
Anna toked on the end of the joint and held it, letting the
(better living through chemistry)
soak into her system. Her mind instantly began to wallow in a cloudy haze, which was exactly what she needed after the day she had.
“Anna?” Michael--who was a year younger than the lot of them, but taller and much more sexually provocative than anyone in his grade--queried. He had been wasted long before any of them had even arrived at his house.
“Hmmm?” she hummed.
“Wanna ********?” Anna thought it an odd request, considering she hadn’t had sex since sophomore year with Robert. But, she hardly knew Robert, and was blasted out of her mind when it had happened, so it hadn’t really affected her. But, with Michael?
She hummed again, letting the thought roll over her brain. “I’ll think about it,” she finally answered, a smile spreading over her face. Michael returned it.
“Anthony, come here, baby,” said Lisa, who was sitting next to Anthony on the ratty old couch they were on. She pulled him towards her and they touched lips, their tongues running over each other’s with a transient determination.
Jezzie, meanwhile, took another try at the pot, and succeeded in keeping the smoke inside. In a few moments she disappeared into the haze like the rest of them. Anna, who was sitting in a chair next to the couch, turned to her left and looked right at Michael.
“Michael?”
He responded by turning and lifting his eyebrows above his tired eyes.
“I’m ready.” And, with that, Michael crawled over to her and began to pull off her top.
*
October 8th, 2003. 10:40 AM. Class went by without much thought. She came in, sat between a kid with a constantly running nose and another who had vicious acne, and let her mind drift for the whole class. The prof was talking about this and that. Who listens to physics that much anyway?
She did manage to catch one phrase that stuck in her mind. She wasn’t sure what came before or after it, but the center was what latched onto her.
“...increase the time and you decrease the force...”
She had heard it, stored it, and immediately went back to her daydreaming. She was running over a checklist of everything she wanted to get done today, making sure not to miss anything, or else it would come back to haunt her--someone, anyway--at a later date.
Increase the time and you decrease the force.
She now sat on a wooden bench that made a broken circle around a concrete table. One of the many amenities of college life was that you could take lunch when you wanted to, and where you wanted to. And, even though the weather was starting to get balmier, today was beautiful. The sun was cascading down on the campus like a waterfall of light, and Anna wouldn’t miss eating at her favorite spot. Not today.
The concrete roundtable was firmly planted to the ground right near to a large elm tree. In the dead of winter it resembled a many-fingered hand reaching from out of the ground, trying desperately to claw at the sky. But now it was wondrous, the leaves all cast in shades of orange and red, highlighted by the sun’s rays. She was directly in the shadow of the tree, little flecks of light nibbling around among the shade, which was just how she liked it. The rest of campus was cast in a bronze sort of glow, all the stone and metal shimmering despite age and decay.
This is a perfect day, she thought, taking a forkful of cold pasta into her mouth.
*
June 2nd, 1999. 2:43 PM. Two minutes and the day would be over. The bell would officially sound at forty-five past the hour and then she would run from the confines of the school, taking only her backpack with her (inside of which contained only two slim notebooks. One was homework from multiple classes, strewn about in random order, and the other was a personal journal which she had kept faithfully all that year).
Eighth grade would be over, and high school would come on fast--she told herself--and then she would graduate, and then she would go to college, and then she would get a good job, marry a good man, have children, watch her children grow up, and get old with the man she loves while she watched her children have children and so on and so forth. It would truly be wonderful.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING!
The entire classroom stood up in one cannonade of sound and emptied out of the room like a school of excited fish. Anna stayed behind, however briefly, to wish her homeroom teacher adieu.
“Well, I’ll miss you too, Anna. I’m sure you’ll do fine in high school.”
“I know I will,” she answered chirpily, confidence draped over it like sackcloth. She gave her a quick hug and then ran from there like the c**k of the walk.
Outside, the sun was beaming and it was going to be a beautiful day.
*
October 8th, 2003. 11:19 AM. Next class had come around, and Anna had promptly entered and sat down where she usually sat. It’s funny how there is an unofficial seating arrangement after a period of time. There were no assigned seats, and yet everyone came and sat down in the same places every day, like clockwork. If one person disturbed the careful mix, then it was almost like apocalypse had settled down on the room. Why are you sitting in my seat? Yes, I know there are no assigned seats, but...well...this is my seat.
Today, the topic to discuss was not in the front of the stadium seats, but in the row right beneath where Anna was sitting. Two guys, both the same age as Anna, were in a deep dissertation on the previous night’s events.
“So, what happened?”
“Lemme tell you, it was ********. This girl--I think her name was Julie...Janni...Jessi--something like that anyway--was hittin’ the bottle hard, dude.”
“Okay.”
“She was like goin’ under the beer bong and practically inhaled one of the kegs. It was sweet.”
“So, what’s the big deal?”
“Well, dude, get this, she threw up in the corner of the room, and half the people at the party started laughing at her, right? So, then she went into Shayne’s bedroom and passed out on the bed.”
“Mm hmm...”
“Now, I had been hittin’ up this girl all night for a little taste, right? So, I went into there, and I closed the door and I laid down next to her, and I start whispering in her ear, right? I was like, ‘You want some of me?’ and she went ‘Mmmmhmmmm,’ like she was really up for it. So, I rolled her over and I start kissin’ her, right?” By this point, he began to become more excited as he spoke, increasing with each tide of the story.
“So, then what happened?” And so was his friend.
“Aw, dude, well, I started rubbing her through her tank top, right? And she starts moaning, and so I rub harder, and then I unbutton her jeans, right? And she starts swaying her hips, and then I...”
At that point, he moved in closer to his friend and Anna could no longer hear the conversation. She wondered to herself if the girl actually wanted what she got, or if she was lying in bed cradling herself, wondering why her, and blaming all that booze she drank. It was her fault, she would tell herself. Maybe she didn’t even remember it, and is now just recovering from a terrible hangover. Anna wondered why it should even matter anymore.
*
March 20th, 2001. 10:40 AM. Spring break was the time in which Anna had a friend in crisis. She had met Jessica York in the fall of her freshman year and they had become instant friends. Neither of them had been very well-off in grade school, and they both agreed that now was a good time to sow their wild oats. It was, after all, high school, so why shouldn’t they?
Jessica--Jezzie, to her friends--had been blowing an upperclassmen as he drove them home from a date and at the moment of climax he hit a sheen of water on the road and hydroplaned right into a tree. Jezzie was thrown forward and sideways and whapped her head into windshield, sending rivulets of glass spidering out in all directions. She broke her right arm, her skin split open on her head, her skull maintained a minor fracture, and she lost over a pint of blood from the wound. The young man who drove her home survived with mild abrasions on his p***s and genitals and a large gash on his right arm.
When Anna heard the next morning what had happened, she immediately went to the hospital where her friend was staying--Merciful Mary--and immediately went to her room.
“Knock knock,” she said quaintly, rapping twice on the door as she entered. Her mother sat on a chair next to the bed, dozing quietly with a Woman’s World magazine caught up halfway down her leg. Jezzie was on the bed, her head wrapped in a thick white bandage, and her arm in a sling. As soon as Anna entered, her face lit up.
“Anna!” she nearly yelled, almost forgetting her mother was there.
“Hi, sweetie,” Anna replied, closing the door softly behind her. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged (as best she could). “How do I look?”
“Well, I have seen you look better,” Anna said as she moved to the edge of the bed, trying to keep her focus at Jezzie’s left side.
“Of course.”
“What happened?” At that, Jezzie immediately bit her lower lip, and her eyes darted away to the corner of the room.
“Well...I just...” she started.
Anna placed her hand on Jezzie’s and just looked at her. Jezzie caught her gaze and relaxed. This was Anna, after all.
So, she related the whole story, ending with, “Lucky he had his cell on him, or else we would’ve been stuck out in the sticks all night.” Anna nodded in agreement, processing the story.
“So, how long are you going to be here?”
“I’m supposed to leave today, they just wanted to make sure everything was cool so that I could go home. I have to be in this damn thing,” she said, motioning to her right arm, “for six weeks.”
“That sucks,” she responded plainly. “But at least you’re okay. That’s something, isn’t it?”
Jezzie just shrugged.
*
October 8th, 2003. 2:52 PM. She had gotten through all of the classes, save for one. She didn’t even really remember what it was called, but thought it was something like “The Fall of the Soviet Union and It’s Relationship to Economics.”
Pheh, her mind vomited. She didn’t even bother bringing the 600-page textbook to class, instead opting to leave everything in her dorm room in the backpack she had carried with her since grade school. It was a little under-equipped to handle the load of her current array of books, but she kept it with her anyway. Nostalgia, perhaps.
*
December 23rd, 2002. 11:20 PM. Anna and Michael lie next to each other on his bed, in each other’s arms, staring at the ceiling. They were naked, their bodies covered with a chilly layer of perspiration. The room was a dark blue, the light from the half-moon spilling in through the window atop the bed.
“Wow,” was all Anna could muster as she stared at the ceiling, gradually coming down from the marijuana mist.
“I made it when I was in fifth grade. I was really into space and the universe back then,” he said dreamily, looking away from the ceiling and back at her, “It’s an exact recreation of the night sky.”
Anna was looking at a glowing green stars, placed across the ceiling in beautiful patterns. The galaxy swirled and cascaded right before her eyes, preserved in perfect, frozen harmony.
“See,” he said, pointing, “that’s the Big Dipper, and there’s Orion, and--”
“Where’s Orion?” Anna asked, smiling.
“Well,” he said, taking her right hand in his and pointing it out with her, “you take those two stars and make them meet down at this one, and then you connect this to...this, and then you have his belt, and here’s his bow.” Then, they both faced in and looked at each other, their arms still extended, pointing at Upsilon Orionis, and they kissed.
Anna would never forget this drug-induced evening, and neither would Michael. It was both the most erotic and the most passionate they had ever been with another person. Even as he lie on his death bed in 2074 at the age of eighty-nine, the memory would remain as intact and as pure as ever. And he would die thinking of his wife of 57 years, Beth, and also thinking of Anna, and how blue her eyes looked under the stars.
*
October 8th, 2003. 5:50 PM. Anna licked the last envelope closed and quickly scribbled a name and address on the front of it, like the other three she had written. Half of her checklist was now complete, all she needed to do was mail them and then eat dinner. And she knew exactly what she wanted: a twice-baked potato with butter melting into it; a side of corn, also with butter; a charbroiled hamburger with all the trimmings and extra onions; and a tall glass of chilled Coca-Cola to wash it all down. It would deplete almost all of her funds for the week, but she didn’t care. It was a brand new day, and she was sparing no expense.
Happily, she gathered up the envelopes and exited the dorm room. She almost whistled, she was so pleased with herself.
After a quick stop-off at the mailroom to stamp them and send them off to their destinations, she walked with a hitch to her step all the way to Tony’s, this fantastic little restaurant that overlooked the bay. And, of course, she knew just where she wanted to sit (had, in fact, reserved that specific table. When the girl on the other end of the phone mentioned it was only for one, Anna had replied, “Perfect”).
As she sat down, a waiter (tall, strapping, and very handsome) handed her a menu, and asked her what she’d like to drink. Anna answered with a smile.
*
May 21st, 2003. 8:18 PM. It was the only time she had ever done it.
That was what Anna would think to herself later. Not that she had liked it, or that she had wanted to try it, but only that it had happened once, and that was that.
Jezzie, Lisa, and Anthony had come over with a little bag containing four white pills. Each one of them had a dividing line cut into them like a halfway point.
“So...how do we take ‘em?” Anthony asked.
“We just swallow,” Lisa commented.
“So, you’re the expert on that?” Anthony said crassly. Lisa promptly whacked his leg with her palm and scowled.
Anna was the first to try it. She reached into the baggie and pulled one out. She took a cursory examination of it, like staring at it would somehow manifest new knowledge. Her friends stared at her as she plopped the pill on her tongue and jerked her head back, swallowing it whole.
No one said a word, until Jezzie said, “Do you feel anything?”
“Umm...I think it takes about a half-hour, guys,” Anna replied promptly.
“Oh,” Lisa sighed.
As they all reached out to take the pills, Anna looked at the circular clock on the wall, the second-hand ticking away.
*
October 8th, 2003. 6:38 PM. It would be impossible for Anna to describe on what level she had enjoyed the dinner. It was an amalgam of some of the most prominent events in her life: her first orgasm, graduation, getting her driver’s license, her first kiss (which had been in third grade from a boy named Bobby), and The Realization.
Now, The Realization--capitalized because it deserves it--had come almost a week ago. After months of spiraling downward, she had found a way to finally lift herself back up, to make things right again. Certainly, it would be difficult for people to understand, but she was not afraid of that. Why? Because, Anna thought, well...well because when you increase the time you decrease the force, that’s why.
The waiter came back over, placed the bill on the table, and asked her if there was anything else he could do for her. Anna smiled and said that he had done everything and more for her. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he gave a polite smile and wished her a nice evening.
Anna took the bill and walked to the front counter to pay, leaving behind a twenty dollar tip.
*
May 21st, 2003. 8:43 PM. She and Jezzie had kissed. It was more than that, though, and they both knew it. Later they would tell themselves that it was the Ecstasy that had done it, and that was all.
It had started with Anna beginning to giggle. The drug was starting to kick in. The other three looked at her, and Jezzie asked what was so funny.
“I get it now!” Anna said a little too loudly.
“Get what?” asked Lisa.
“The joke. The joke Tim Peels--you remember him? From six grade, before he moved away? Well, he told me this joke, and I didn’t get it back then. But, I get it now! Ha ha ha!”
For Anthony, the Ecstasy he took was also starting to take hold.
“What was the joke?” he asked, a smile crossing his face.
“Umm...let me see if I can remember how it goes,” Anna said. “Umm...oh! Okay, I got it. ‘Two gay guys were in the shower together when one looked down and saw a puddle of white liquid. He said to the other man “What did I tell you about farting in the shower?”’ Get it? HA HA HA!” She tipped over onto the edge of her chair and laughed and laughed like there was nothing better or funnier.
The other three chuckled.
“Well, that Tim always was a little perv,” commented Jezzie. Now, they were all starting to swim with the pills, their minds simultaneously clearing and fading over with gauze.
“What do you think about that?” asked Anthony.
“About what?” Anna replied.
“Gay people. Y’know.”
“I don’t have anything against ‘em,” answered Jezzie.
“Yeah, me either,” said Anna.
“Oh, really? Well, prove it,” Lisa said, turning towards them.
“How?” Anna inquired.
“Kiss each other.”
“What?” they both said simultaneously.
“Go on, prove me wrong.”
“How does that prove anything?” Jezzie asked.
“It proves that you two are comfortable enough with your sexuality to do it, and also that you are not homophobic.”
Both Anna and Jezzie could have said no, and that would have been the end of it. But, they didn’t. Instead, they leaned in towards each other and touched their lips. But, they didn’t immediately pull away, they pushed more into it, their mouths opening for the briefest of moments.
Anna would never know--because they didn’t see much of each other after that day--but Jezzie would remember that kiss. She would take it with her until 2024, when she died of a cerebral hemorrhage in her sleep, leaving behind her husband of ten years, Donald, and her two children: Grace and Nicholas.
*
October 8th, 2003. 11:14 PM. Most of the dorm--including her roommates--were at a party up on the third floor, so the dorm was silent and still.
Anna ran through the checklist in her head. Had she done everything she needed to? Because she wouldn’t leave anything to chance, and certainly not under such circumstances as these. The Realization would not allow for lapses in her memory. And why? Because if you increase the time you decrease the force, Anna thought to herself.
With that, she went into the bathroom and shut the door.
*
February 8th, 2003. 7:33 PM. Anna and Jezzie sat next to each other, their backs supported by the side of the bed.
“Where did you get those?” Anna asked, pointing at Jezzie’s wrists.
“These?” she replied, holding up both. Each had a vertical scar running down three inches from the bottom of her palms. Anna nodded.
Putting her wrists back down, she said, “It was in, oh, I dunno, I think seventh grade. I was really in a bad place.” Her voice dropped, and she continued, “You know what’s funny? I don’t even remember why now. But, I did this to stop it, to stop the...the hurt, I guess.”
“How did, I mean, who--”
“My mother, of all people, was the one who found me. I lost a lot of blood and I almost did kick the bucket. But, you want to know something?”
“Sure.”
“When you are about to die, you see such colors...such colors. Like this bright and beautiful rainbow that’s meant just for you. It really is something to see.”
They didn’t say anything for a long time, until Anna spoke up with, “You wanna see this scar I have on my foot?”
Jezzie, laughing, said, “Sure.”
Anna felt close to her best friend that day, and it would do all the more good to bring them closer when Jezzie would get into the accident a month later.
But, that was all unimportant for now. At that moment, they were just two young girls, talking of life, and comparing battle scars.
*
October 8th, 2003. 11:25 PM. The now-crimson tile waned and waxed before her. Her vision blurred and she began to tip forward off the end of the porcelain seat, the world mixing into a bright array of shadows and lights.
She knew this was what needed to be done. After all, there was nothing more to be said for it. Her mind didn’t rewind and backtrack across her life, but it did bring out the highlights and lowlights. She regretted nothing, least of all this. She had sent all the letters off to the people she loved, she had eaten her last meal, she had completed a full day of activity without batting an eye, and she was happy with the way things were ending.
When her relatives and friends read the letters, they would have closure. Not complete, and certainly not the best, but closure all the same. And it was better that they read them days after she died, because if you increase the time, you decrease the force. Physics for suicide.
The world began to shudder around her like a whirligig, and she knew the end was coming. Words, images, pictures, and sounds all batted around in her brain in random order.
Kiss each other...I passed!...I love you...I’ll miss you, too...You see such colors...such colors...
Then she was on the floor, staring bleakly at the ceiling, the light curving into a fisheye. Tears spilled across her eyes and she felt like she was floating in water, gracefully turning and moving around, just a small baby shrinking back from the world. The light began to descend into nothingness.
Darker...darker....
And, as the last hint of brightness disappeared, she thought she saw bright green stars, and smiled.


Tom Rhodes
1/27/04, 5:44 AM

It wasn't bad; sorta different, but kinda not...

Anyone wish to add some Critics?