Look at the beauty of the world,
Not through tainted perspectives of persons encountered-
Rather through the eyes of sheer existence.
Look at the moving trees that cascade down its beautiful leaves on a fall day.
Look upon the avenues of quiet buildings that hold precious families fast asleep.
Look at the bulidings and skylines around you,
Realize that, intellectual design is amongst you as you are consumed in it
Look at the beauty of the world and see that the artful mind, craftful hands, and natural anomalies are forever present.

Excerpt #3 and #4 - Short Story- The Relished Touch

Hey Guys, I missed last weeks post and I'm a day late with this weeks. I have formed it into a longer post of the next few paragraphs from the short story. I hope you're all enjoying the read as the story develops and unravels.


Links in order:

http://sleeplesscomposer.blogspot.com/2016/11/excerpt1-from-short-story-relished-touch.html

http://sleeplesscomposer.blogspot.com/2016/11/hey-so-im-day-late-it-seems.html

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“Okay, cool. Thanks. Oh, why won’t anyone talk about what happened with 348?” She asked. Curiosity rung through her voice. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” He heard after a few minutes.

              A short, smiling, bright eyed blonde came bustling through the door. “Why, good morning to you, sir. How are we doing today, huh? Let me just check your chart for a name.” She picked up the chart and skimmed through the pages and nodded along. She was wearing blue scrubs with a pink printed sweater.

“Mr. David Clark, nice to meet you. It says here you have sustained severe injury to your spine. Gun shot. However, it does not say why and no one seems to want to tell me. I guess it’s in the past, right? No longer matters. Any-who, my name is Shelly Sprie. I’ll be taking good care of you from here on out. I wanted to introduce myself before I came back to give you your nine o’clock meds. In the meantime, let me push your bed facing the window instead of away. It’s such a beautiful day; I wouldn’t want you to miss it. And I’ll also put the television on for you okay. If you need anything let me- Oops, I’m sorry Mr. Clark. Mind slip. See you soon. Enjoy the view.” She scattered out of the room.

              He found her optimism endearing. For a, brief, moment, he didn’t feel as though dying would be better than this. He had someone speaking directly to him. Even her little slip up, about asking for something, he found adorable. David was very happy that this was his new care taker. So, eager, so full of life. For the first time in years he could not wait for his pain killers, anti-depressants, stool softners, vitamins, food, bag changes, other meds that he forgot what they were for, or any of that, for the sole purpose that someone would be coming to speak to him. She pushed his bed to the window. He was so happy to see that the grass was green. He watched as care takers took breaks, doctors took calls, and guards stand tall. His favorite was looking at the tree beyond the fences. It was a beautiful Maple tree. It sat there beautifully under the wonderfully bright sky. What a day today will turn out to be.

              He slipped into his imaginary place where he was free in his mind. He ran out of this room so he can run up that hill and lay under the tree. What a blessed thought that would be. What a simple dream for a man to have. He sat there wondering if what she has done was cruel. He is teased and taunted by the wanting of being free. He was beginning to have mixed feelings about this. It was a very kind gesture; however, on the other hand it’s a beautiful torture. A final glimpse before death I suppose.

              After an hour of staring at the same tree he grew to hate that tree. It was taunting him. Look at you, just sitting there, waving around in the wind like you’re something special. Well, guess what? You’re not. No one cares about you. You’re nothing….. J-just like me. His words hung there in his mind. He wished to be treated like a human. He felt so isolated, alone. He felt empty inside with an all-consuming amount of loneliness. He looked back at the tree. I’m sorry tree. I’m jealous, okay. You’re out there doing tree things, waving around and you’re rubbing it in my face. It pisses me off. I’m going to haunt you when I’m dead. David fought with that tree inside his mind until Shelly returned. Then he focused on her.

Excerpt #2 -- Short Story-- The Relished Touch

Hey! So, I'm a day late it seems. It's time for the continuation of the short story! Who's excited? I am. If you didn't read the first post I will post a link to copy and paste, or you can scroll through the selections to the right of the blog. Enjoy!!

http://sleeplesscomposer.blogspot.com/2016/11/excerpt1-from-short-story-relished-touch.html

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Instead he stares at four blue walls. The walls used to be gray, he liked this color much better; he found it to be soothing, in only a way a man like himself would. He hears all the latest gossip among his care takers, their excitement, disdain, all their hopes and dreams. His previous care taker, Monica, complained about him so much that she was finally switched on her rotations. He apparently scared her. Her level of discomfort grew over the months and she complained until her staffing manager had had enough.

He has heard amongst the gossip that some new girl was starting today. She’s apparently in way over her head and doesn’t know what she’s in for. He cannot wait to meet this one. Usually, the new ones break after eight months in a place this. Everything they have to see and endure isn’t something they can be trained for. They have to gain experience and ride out their rookie years like everyone else. Monica, she was veteran. This surprised him; she of all people should’ve been able to handle this amount of a “workload”.  He thinks his stares and restraints are what truly scared her. He has eyes that are screaming a million words that will never be spoken; words that will never pass his lips.

He could hear outside his room; as the door is always open, a chipper voice ringing loud through the air. “Which room is it?” her voice almost sings.

“348.” Another voice. Another woman. She sounds bored of her job; the way only a veteran in this world would.

Excerpt#1 from Short Story- The Relished Touch

Good morning, I think for the next foreseeable Sundays I am going to post continuous excerpts to a short story I wrote based off a criteria challenge my friend and I gave one another. I find some hilarity in it, then again I am the one who wrote it. I will post links to copy and paste as well, in chronological order, so you can follow along with the story as it develops in case you happen to miss a sunday. It's a similar idea as to the Six Sentence Sunday I was part taking in several years ago with the exception I'll most likely post 2-3 paragraphs as opposed to six sentences. Enjoy the read, this is one of my favorites!

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The Relished Touch

Every day starts the same. He wakes up from his long slumber and watches life move forward as his simply stays still. Sure there are some that scurry away from him, who wants to talk to the immobile mute? Life is agony for him. There are days he even wishes for death; sure he cherishes all the fond memories of the life he once had. Those were the best days of his life until his incident.

It has been many years since the incident. He now resides in the care of others; primarily people who don’t care whether he lives or dies. He is just a room number to them, a burden to their workload and the heftiness in their day. Everything must be done for him. Catheter changes, colostomy bag changes, showers, he must be flipped every few hours to prevent bed sores, all while being restrained to the bed railings. What is it that they still feared after so many years, that his mobility would return? That his spine would simply heal?

He often craves to stand up and walk to the window. To just see how the world has changed, evolved. He yearns to speak and yell. Flex his now motionless muscles. The mere things he took for granted like his morning jogs he used to loathe; he now wishes for. The chit chat of idle conversation that he tried to avoid at all costs he now wishes he could join in on. So much of life he has taken for granted. He longed to take a mid day stroll in the spring, smell the freshly cut grass, gaze at all the life that sprouts from the ground and makes life colorful.