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.
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