The big dreams of a 17 year old

When I was 17 years old my life plan was to complete a novel by the time I graduated high school and sell enough to support me while I finished college and wrote a second novel, which would then support me as I wrote my third.  Teens always have big dreams.

This was the beginning of my first novel:

      The walls appeared to breathe in this perdition I had called home for the past few months.  They had a life of their own, and seemed to watch me with judging eyes as though I was a monster, a being of extreme horror.  I chose to smile back at them.  The curve of my lips was taunting, and I had, by this time, discovered that this tool could intimidate others to a point of submission.  Yet, the walls continued to mock me.  This brought upon a malicious cackle from within me, one that raised every hair on my body.

     What had once been a terrifying delirium had become a game of chicken in my mind.  I had won this game before, but I could feel myself growing weaker, these walls overpowering me.  In the darkness of my mind I searched for a way out, a manner in which to do away with the demons that had burrowed themselves into my head.  Like a parasite, they were sucking the life out of me, feeding on my essence. 

     I took a breath, closed my eyes, and imagined the walls enveloped in hungry flames, clawing at the chipped paint.  Sable black smoke twisted and curled into demented shapes and faces, with eyes hell bound and claws searching for a succulent piece of life to sink themselves into.  The smoke was a weaver, intertwining itself with the lapping flames and peeling wall.  The walls themselves much resembled a sunburnt back, the skin parting from the surface of the back and falling to the floor in a shriveled heap.  Heaving for breath, the walls struggled to fight against slumber, but the smoke was singing its virulent lullaby.  Flames crept to the ceiling, and the walls were swallowed.  I could hear their blood wrenching screams as I defeated them, perhaps for the last time.

     When I opened my eyes I had a pounding headache, but the walls ceased to breathe, and so I felt it was worth it.