Exit Sign: a Theatre of the Mind
  • Reads 113
  • Votes 27
  • Parts 12
  • Time 58m
  • Reads 113
  • Votes 27
  • Parts 12
  • Time 58m
Ongoing, First published Oct 04, 2019
Will Dave survive?

It's like Seinfeld meets Sartre in a café to reenact *My Dinner with André*: Dave feels like life is a theatrical performance, and he's in the audience. He didn't buy tickets. He's not interested in the show, and nothing he can say or do will disrupt the story on the stage.

What's to stop him from getting up and leaving? What's to stop him from walking through the door with the exit sign over it?

In *Exit Sign: a Theatre of the Mind*, you'll read dialogues between friends, spats between lovers, and the musings of mad young man as he psychically faces the Hellscape of his nihilistic affliction. Depression is not Dave's affliction; it is a symptom of a deeper disease.

.

I've completed the novel. I'll be posting chapters weekly until I've posted the whole thing. It is completed; you will get to read the ending.

You'll notice that while I write in third person I tend to rely heavily on the inner monologue of my main character, which will be found in italics.

I started doing this because I wanted to show the reader what was happening in Dave's mind rather than stating his emotions or feelings objectively, which I found boring as it left less room empathy between Dave and the reader.

Novels are best when they lean into their strengths. No other medium can so effectively show us the inside of someone's mind like the novel. No other medium can create such empathy. I hope my story has leaned into this successfully.
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"She's right! She's right! I don't cut in the right spot." My hold tightens on my wrist. The red blood oozes out of my wrist. I slide up and grab my bag and run out of the bathroom. I don't care if people can see the blood I just want to get out. I race for the doors and shove through people. I earn a lot of glares and glances that read "weirdo." I ignore and push. I run to my house and lock myself in my bathroom. I don't bother closing the front door cause I don't care if people come in to kill me. I grab my razor and cut deep cuts into my arm and wrists falling into a pool of my own blood. • • • Evangeline has a great life. Friends? Check! Good grades? Check! Loving family? Check! But what if she has secrets that nobody knows of? What if the only thing she can trust is her secret diary? What if slowly but surly she's dying inside? How can an innocent twelve year old deal with these problems? Will she keep on facing these problem till the day she breaks. Her school burns down forcing her into a different school to meet different people and she has to fit into a different lifestyle as well. Meet Evangeline. Now at 17 years of age in a new high school. Not all girls anymore. No uniform. Meet Drake. Your classic bad-boy. He just moved to Saint Abigail high school. He is assigned partners with the quiet, calm, unnoticed Evangeline. As time progresses he finds that she isn't as happy on the inside as she is on the outside. Can he save her? Or is it too late? • • • Some rude language. Depression and cutting. Don't say I didn't warn you. Okay, I wrote this at the start of this year (may 2016) and I had very poor writing skills. This book hasn't been edited and the whole idea is cliche so I wouldn't recommend you read it but I'm not stopping you, either. Read at your own risk. • • • Copyright © 2017 by -moonlust. All rights reserved.