Insimenator.org

my first story on insim. it's about a man who tries to write one last perfect song before his time comes. comments welcome.

                                          Prologue
 
My name is Lance Darwin. I'm twenty-eight years old and couldn't ask for a better life, even though it wasn't always like this. My parents died in a helicopter crash when I was only two years old. My uncle George and aunt Rose raised me and my brothers since I was three. I still have contact with George and Rose, but I haven't seen my brothers Mike and Harry since I was fourteen. So if they're still alive is beyond me.
(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_768a4d70_368a4d71.jpg)

I'm in a great relationship with my girlfriend, Gretchen Smith. Like me, she is an artistic soul; she is a painter. We always use the old Chinese philosphy:"There is a poem in every painting, and a painting in every poem". That usually means, I write songs from some of her paintings, and she makes art from listening to the songs I write.
(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_768a4d70_368a4ecb.jpg)

I've known Gretchen since we were in junior high and it wasn't till a few years ago when we really started getting serious. I know that George and Rose are proud of my feelings for Gretchen, but since they also have no contact with my brothers, I think the only thing the want from me is to just marry Gretchen and start a family with her. As strange as this sounds, I'm not really surprised that both George and Rose, as well as Gretchen's parents, wants us to be one. But I'm just not ready for that yet. And neither is Gretchen.
(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_768a4d70_768a4ecf.jpg)

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_16077e33_96079b0a.jpg)
I'm a songwriter. I love my job. My dream is to a rock musician. So far, I haven't gotten any good songs down yet, but I'm still working on it! My uncle George is a real great help with some of my songwriting. He's a retired Navy chief and sure looks like one, but he's really a kind, sensitive soul. In fact, he even sends me some of his poems and tells me that they would make some great song lyrics.

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_768a4d70_568a4e04.jpg)
This is one of my friends, Jeremy Turner. He's also one of my great songwriting partners. He also writes some of my lyrics and even makes arrangements of my music for concert and orchestra bands. All three of us, me, George, and Jeremy, are one great songwriting team.

Yeah, life was great until now. I might not have much longer to live.

I sat on my hospital bed. It had been only a day since Dr. Green had told me to stay in the hospital to run some tests. Why am I in the hospital? Two days ago, I suffered a really bad heart attack. I couldn't move, breathe, nothing. It was unlike anything I had been through. Luckily, the doctors had saved me before things got really bad.

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_568a2e56.jpg)
I was reading when Dr. Green came into my room. I could tell by the expression on his face that it was most likely not good news. Then again, he always looked gloomy, with over twenty-five years of medical practice under his belt, he was probably looking forward to retirement.

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_768a2f14.jpg)
I put my book down.
"Come on in, doc," I said. "Is there somethin' wrong?"

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_b68a2f2c.jpg)
"I'm afraid it's worse than we thought, Lance," Dr. Green did not sound happy.
"Well, what's the problem?"

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_f68a2eb6.jpg)
"I was looking over your test results. They're not good. Mr. Darwin, you have Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, or HCM. It's a fatal disease in athletic men like yourself. Your heart has gotten worse since the heart attack, and unfortunately, there aren't very many treatment options. I regret having to inform you this, but you have about one year left to live."

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_568a2eef.jpg)
I was shocked.
"You sure? There has to be some mistake!"
"I'm sorry Lance. There's nothing we can do."

(http://i414.photobucket.com/albums/pp223/guitarnut26/snapshot_368a2b6b_368a2f67.jpg)
Dr. Green left the room while I just sat there shocked. One year left to live. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days. How would I tell Gretchen? George? Rose? Jeremy? All my friends? How?

I was discharged from the hospital the next day. I was still shocked from the message Dr. Green gave me. Only one year left.

:thumbsup:
Good things you've got going on here.


Pic taking nitpicks:
-Walls were down in a lot of pics.
-PlumbBobToggle off

I dunno, it's a good story, but the pictures need a lot of work. Try the tips Rock Justice gave you, and make the pictures more interesting. The pictures should be intriguing, so that you would want to see the pictures just as much as the story. Take a look at some of the other stories on this forum, you'll see what I mean.

Apart from that it is a brilliant story concept, you could really make this work.  ;D Good luck!

Plumbobs toggle off?
You'd think after 3 stories I'd know that but, nope!  ;D