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Description
Exercise 4 - The Unstable Self

     The purpose of this exercise was to imagine a narrator in a stressful or traumatic situation who vacillates between first and third person.  It is intended to aid in portraying the sudden flashes self-transcendence that are the hallmark of genuine human psychology at its most extreme.  I consider this effort a failure, but I will post it anyway.  If it is not well received, I will move it to the scrapbook.

     As I crawl out the shattered window, praying I'm not shredding my arms through my flannel sleeves, I try again and again to force my mind to remember facts.  I need facts, or I might not survive, but I can't seem to think clearly, and my mind feels oddly detached from the images running through it.
     It was clearly not his fault.  The other driver swerved into his lane, and in an attempt to avert a collision, the man in the car veered off the road and into a ditch.  He caught one quick flash of the other car's license plate, and then the world span, and darkness came.  Not his fault...
     Yes, I know.  That doesn't help.  My knees hurt terribly, but I force myself up, shaking and almost falling twice.  I brace myself with a hand that I reach up to the bottom of my car and pull myself standing, and my head swims.  Darkness claws at the fringes of my vision.
     There are beetles that can flip themselves back over when they fall on their backs, he recalled.  They make a loud clicking noise when they flip as their hard shells strike the ground, and then they fly through the air.  Like the clicking noise he could hear now.
     The clicking noise is my car's engine cooling down.  I try not to let it distract my, but my mind won't focus.  Every time I purposely point it at something, it slips away from me.  There is a sharp ache near my pelvis, I think where my seatbelt caught me.  Pain is easy to focus on, but it doesn't help.
     He remembered a diagram he saw on the internet; just where the pain was the picture had a dot that was connected by a line to the words "Love Chakra".  Some mystics meditate to unblock those when they're stopped up somehow.  The flow of ki.  Ki, ki, ki...
     Jackie!  Oh my God, I was driving her somewhere!  I fall over as soon as I start to move, and land on my hands.  The ground feels slippery, and looking down I see red, but I can't stop to think about that.  I have to make sure Jackie is alright.  She was in the passenger seat...I think...
     He drove up to the brick building.  His automatic headlights flicked on as he pulled into the building's shadow; it was just dark enough to trip the photocell on his hood.  As the engine idled, a fifteen year old girl reached across the cup holders to give him a quick hug, and then got out and walked towards the storefront.  The letters "-NCE  ST-" were just visible through the open door on the glass of the store's window, and then she was gone.
     It is hard to see.  My eyes aren't working right, and I can't seem to look at one spot.  Red streaks reflect the light of the streetlamp wherever I put down my hands.  My eyes keep getting drawn there, but there is no one in the car.  Was Jackie there?  I can't remember - just flashes.
     A voice came at me, and I fell over backwards into the ditch.  I couldn't get up anymore.
     "Oh my God, look!  Mary, call 911!  I'll see if anyone's there!"  I see a man rushing up, silhouetted against the light of the lamp.  He is middle aged and heavyset, and as he runs I can see the extra flesh on his stomach and chest move up and down.  I wish he would stop moving.  I feel sick...
     "What are you saying?  Speak up!  Look at me!"  His hands grip my shoulders and pull me up slightly.  "Mary, I think he's delirious!  Is an ambulance coming?"
     The ambulance came and picked the man up.  He couldn't see around him, but his outline showed clearly against the white stretcher the two EMT's carried him to the ambulance on.

Description
Exercise 4 - The Unstable Self

     The purpose of this exercise was to imagine a narrator in a stressful or traumatic situation who vacillates between first and third person.  It is intended to aid in portraying the sudden flashes self-transcendence that are the hallmark of genuine human psychology at its most extreme.  I consider this effort a failure, but I will post it anyway.  If it is not well received, I will move it to the scrapbook.

     As I crawl out the shattered window, praying I'm not shredding my arms through my flannel sleeves, I try again and again to force my mind to remember facts.  I need facts, or I might not survive, but I can't seem to think clearly, and my mind feels oddly detached from the images running through it.
     It was clearly not his fault.  The other driver swerved into his lane, and in an attempt to avert a collision, the man in the car veered off the road and into a ditch.  He caught one quick flash of the other car's license plate, and then the world span, and darkness came.  Not his fault...
     Yes, I know.  That doesn't help.  My knees hurt terribly, but I force myself up, shaking and almost falling twice.  I brace myself with a hand that I reach up to the bottom of my car and pull myself standing, and my head swims.  Darkness claws at the fringes of my vision.
     There are beetles that can flip themselves back over when they fall on their backs, he recalled.  They make a loud clicking noise when they flip as their hard shells strike the ground, and then they fly through the air.  Like the clicking noise he could hear now.
     The clicking noise is my car's engine cooling down.  I try not to let it distract my, but my mind won't focus.  Every time I purposely point it at something, it slips away from me.  There is a sharp ache near my pelvis, I think where my seatbelt caught me.  Pain is easy to focus on, but it doesn't help.
     He remembered a diagram he saw on the internet; just where the pain was the picture had a dot that was connected by a line to the words "Love Chakra".  Some mystics meditate to unblock those when they're stopped up somehow.  The flow of ki.  Ki, ki, ki...
     Jackie!  Oh my God, I was driving her somewhere!  I fall over as soon as I start to move, and land on my hands.  The ground feels slippery, and looking down I see red, but I can't stop to think about that.  I have to make sure Jackie is alright.  She was in the passenger seat...I think...
     He drove up to the brick building.  His automatic headlights flicked on as he pulled into the building's shadow; it was just dark enough to trip the photocell on his hood.  As the engine idled, a fifteen year old girl reached across the cup holders to give him a quick hug, and then got out and walked towards the storefront.  The letters "-NCE  ST-" were just visible through the open door on the glass of the store's window, and then she was gone.
     It is hard to see.  My eyes aren't working right, and I can't seem to look at one spot.  Red streaks reflect the light of the streetlamp wherever I put down my hands.  My eyes keep getting drawn there, but there is no one in the car.  Was Jackie there?  I can't remember - just flashes.
     A voice came at me, and I fell over backwards into the ditch.  I couldn't get up anymore.
     "Oh my God, look!  Mary, call 911!  I'll see if anyone's there!"  I see a man rushing up, silhouetted against the light of the lamp.  He is middle aged and heavyset, and as he runs I can see the extra flesh on his stomach and chest move up and down.  I wish he would stop moving.  I feel sick...
     "What are you saying?  Speak up!  Look at me!"  His hands grip my shoulders and pull me up slightly.  "Mary, I think he's delirious!  Is an ambulance coming?"
     The ambulance came and picked the man up.  He couldn't see around him, but his outline showed clearly against the white stretcher the two EMT's carried him to the ambulance on.