Side note – hi guys this is False Starts, I posted it before but it didn’t really get read probably because the writing, particularly the conversation was all in one big jumble. Well I know how to do it properly now and I assure you it’s free flowing reading all the way through! Enjoy and please, please review that’s what makes it worth writing for. J

My name’s Mitchell Thomas and I’m finally ready to tell you about the story of my life. As I walk along the streets and stare at the pitiful beggars sitting in shop corners, shivering from the cold, I think of how I used to avoid them, walk straight past as if they were invisible - I didn’t care about the ‘Please Help sir’ behind me. I had money, I had somewhere to live, I was far more superior then they, and I was as lucky as to have the upper hand. Now I know exactly how they feel for I am one of them, I never have anywhere to go, I wander the streets looking for a place to stay the night and it is all because of that memory, that fearsome memory in my mind…

I can see it now, the imprinted memory becoming live footage once again, replaying the stills, making me relive the depression, the true life event that sent me spiralling into despair…

Flashback

I was walking quite normally along the footbridge that leads to my home, nothing was unusual, and nothing was out of place. I felt quite relaxed inside for today was the start of the Christmas holidays. Outside on the lit up streets was a layer of snow, it looked just like a scene out of a Christmas card. Fluffy white clouds kicked up in front of my feet as I tromped along the street, every movement of my feet making a muffled squelching sound. I finally reached the front door of the house I shared with my best friend, Carlson, and I quickly unlocked the door to escape from the chilly night. I looked in all of the rooms for him; he didn’t work so he should’ve been home at this time. Every single room downstairs was empty, I called his name several times but he never responded. Finally I set upon the stairs and walked down the narrow hallway before stopping outside his bedroom door. I knocked twice but there was no answer, I called his name again but louder this time, still nothing. Wondering if he was asleep I pushed open the door and snuck inside. The room was pitch black and had a funny smell to it, I fumbled around for a second to try and find the light switch and I found myself stumbling over something on the floor. Picking myself up I found the switch and pressed it, the room was soon flooded with a ray of light. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, although his bedcovers were ruffled and untidy, like he’d left in a hurry, but overall it was just like usual. I looked down on the floor to see what I had stumbled upon and stepped back in shock. My best friend lay facedown on the dark blue carpet; he looked as if he had collapsed in the night from too much drink or lack of sleep. I bent down and carefully rolled him over, I was not ready for what I saw, the image that stared back at me I will remember for every living hour, every second, every day for the rest of my life. His face was almost black and his eyes were so tightly shut it was like someone had stuck them like that with sticky tape, his face was bloated to unbelievable regions and his lips were all puffed up. I looked down at his arms and saw the telltale needle wounds sticking out on his skin like a sore thumb. All this time and I had never known he was taking drugs, I must’ve been uncontrollably stupid not to notice something like that. The final clue was held in a clamp like way in his palm, it was an empty syringe, once full of the drugs that had killed my friend.