bicycle

The idea behind this story was to show one event through two different perspectives, so there are two parts to this story but they are independent of each other. Let me know what you think.

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“Excuse me; you’re going to have to put that out.”

“What?”

“You can’t smoke in a hospital.”

Doesn’t it seem odd; the one true place where someone would need a cigarette and it’s illegal. I stared at the grey smoke escaping into the sterilized air and, turning to the nurse, put it out on the tile floor. She seemed content with this and walked down the hall.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been in this black hole; I think time has stopped. Time always seems to stop in hospitals. A second will last a lifetime.

There was a single window at the end of the hall and I could see that it was dark. Stars didn’t dare to touch the sky that night and because of it the hall was empty and grey; florescent lights flickering overhead.

The nurse was further down the hall now. She looked tired. You could see it in her eyes; too much empathy, too much death.

Everything seemed numb in these empty halls. I caught sight of a clock; 4 a.m. Why am I still here? This is the second time I’ve had to wait in this limbo between life and death. The truth is I love her, and that is why I will always wait between these white wash walls.

I got up slowly and stood outside her door. They said she was conscious now and relatively stable. I tried to regain some sense of self but not finding any, just turned the knob.

There she was, still as beautiful as ever. Even after attempted suicide she looks like heaven. I sat down in the chair next to her bed. She had an IV in her hand and a tube to breathe; her eyelids were closed softly with sleep.

It was only a few hours ago that they had brought her in. Her roommate found her lying in a bathtub of blood; an empty bottle of pills and a knife at her side. He called the hospital, and me shortly after. When I got there she had been pulled out of the tub and was being put into and ambulance. Her long black hair was wet and heavy; her cotton nighty was soaked pink with her blood. I got into the ambulance and rode along side her. I wanted to hold her hand, telling her it was all going to be okay but then I saw the vertical gash carved into her forearm. Everything after that seemed nothing more than a dizzy nightmare. My mind snapped back to high school, I became lost in the memories, tears rushing down my face in floods.

I had a friend in high school who got in a car crash with a drink driver. He survived the initial impact but died a few hours later in the emergency room.

It was a long time until I saw her again, lying asleep on the hospital bed. Her arms were bandaged with gauze and her lips were barely pink. I saw her eyelashes flicker and her eyes slowly opened. The second she saw me a tear ran down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. I gazed into her white blue eyes, began to cry, held her hand and kissed it. All I wanted was to take her from this place. She wasn’t meant to be here, caged by cement blocks and surrounded by death. I looked back up to her; eyes pink with tears.

“I’ve ruined everything; how can you possibly love me?”

“I love you for everything you are. There’s nothing life or death can do to change that.”

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we accept the love we think we deserve.

horrorcrafter

this is good enough to keep working on. a great beginning to a shrt story or even a larger work. get your ideas down like you have, and now go back and edit and organizxe the work some more. Your leaving out gobs of important details I think, and this deserves more attention. Panties would be red, scarlet, maybe, not pink. What do you mean... your mind became lost... describe this some more, please. You know which parts need more work. good luck with this.
horrorcrafter

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mybluehell

this was really good, and i agree that you should keep rolling with it, even though it made me sickeningly sad because i've been there too but, this was well put. for your sake i hope this is not autobiography

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“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix; angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dyn” -Alan Ginsberg

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