Fred was the voice living in my head. He must have wanted me dead. He would yell and scream until he got his way, I did everything he said without pay. I parachuted out of a plane and challenged people to fights, all in the middle of many a great nights. I got mad one day and hit his face, hurting mine as well. Living with Fred could be a living hell. I told him to go away and he refused. He said no, sounding amused. It looks like Fred and I have to get along. I hate being used.
About the Creator
Alex H Mittelman
I love writing and just finished my first novel. Writing since I was nine. I’m on the autism spectrum but that doesn’t stop me! If you like my stories, click the heart, leave a comment. Link to book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQZVM6WJ
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Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
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More stories from Alex H Mittelman and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Tragedy of Jane
A train hit Janes car. It burst into flames and flew off the track, killing her instantly. Some of her organs went to the hospital and saved lives. Reading Eulogy’s, her friends remembered her as a good person with a golden heart. She left behind three kids and a dog. Her family always talked about how much they missed her. If only they had one more chance to kiss her. Her sister missed her the most. She could no longer host her famous parties. Janes only mistake was texting and driving. She never saw the train coming.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 16 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Oh I have a psycho in my head too, lol. Loved your rhyming sentences!
Nice tale ❤️✨