Creative Writing School Assignments I Kinda Like And Want Feedback On

Prefix Story Assignment

The prefix words I used are underlined. The words have no significance in the story.

Blood and murder warning. 

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Beautiful. So, so beautiful.

Deep red covers the dark floors, staining the wood, the carpets, my hands.

It's odd. How circumstances can bring people together, and tear them apart. So easily, as if everything meant nothing. Leaving nothing but a catastrophe of corpses.

"Ellis," Vivienne gasps. I can hear the tears in her voice, even though she seems so far away.

"Vivi," I reply, delicately tracing the blood across her floors. "This is all so bittersweet."

I hear her take a step back, "Who?.. You promised."

"I lied." I whisper, trying to concentrate on all of the stains, the mess, the disaster, instead of her. Anything but her.

"Ellis," Vivi says again, softer, this time. "This isn't right.. Put down the knife."

She steps forward.

"Vivienne, no. Stay away." I turn around sharply and toss the knife at her feet. She countersteps the knife, surprised.

"Eli, please." Her eyes are contradictory to her expression. Her eyes are glossy, and compassionate. Her smile seems deceitful, easily expressing kindness, like it is something so easy to hand out.

"When were you going to tell me," I take a deep breath, "That you were leaving?" Vivi moves backwards, "Tell me, Vivienne. Stop moving away, like I'm some kind of biohazard, just because you don't want to tell me the truth!"

"It's more complicated than that, Eli." Vivi looks at the knife on the ground.

"We have time." I look around. It's dark outside, lamps are all around, illuminating the room.

"No we don't." Vivi sighs, serene.

At peace.

She is leaving, and she is at peace.

I reach my hand out and grab her arm, "We do. We really, really do."

Vivi shakes her head, and pulls her phone out from behind her back.

She dialed the police. She has been on the phone with them this whole conversation.

"It's the end, Ellis." Vivi yanks her arm away from me, pushing me back.

I trip on the body.

Vivi's body.

That's laying dead, on the floor, bleeding.

"Vivi, no." My breath catches in my throat. It's over. She's here. Dead, on my floor.

But she isn't.

She's not.

She's not.

She is not.

I look back, for Vivienne, moving and alive, on the phone with the police.

But she isn't there, because she never was there, and I have been utterly alone, this whole time.

I look again at the corpse, Vivi's corpse.

How long has it been?

Her skin is purple and rotting, and she is still. So still.

I feel as if I can't breathe, like every breath is drowning me.

And maybe I am, in her blood, everyone's blood.

Vivienne, wake up. 

-----A/N

My friends said the teacher would know I was mentally ill? Do you think so as well?