Untitled

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
After being involved in a serious accident, Jamie faces the painful repercussions - both physical and emotional - and battles to keep their head above water. An exploration of both the physical and emotional pain experienced after a traumatic event.

Submitted: October 01, 2016

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Submitted: October 01, 2016

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Author's Note -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am an aspiriring writer so I would really appreciate any feedback that you may have.

I am very grateful to any of you who take the time to write me a comment, thanks! 

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It was the kind of pain that grips you hard and steals your entire being, the kind that forces you to adjust all previous entries on your pain scale to accommodate its intensity.

As I focus on the memory, trying to fall into it, letting it envelop me, swallow me, drown me, I close my eyes. I stare through the inside of my eyelids in order to see through the eyes of my past self.

I take a slow, deep breath in.

My mind is steady, the recollection of the day sitting like a thin layer of oil atop the ocean of my thoughts, trapping them beneath the surface. Despite being seated in a stuffy waiting room, so uncomfortably warm that my thigh clings to the plastic chair on which I have been sitting for far too long, the air is cool and fresh as it wafts past the cilia lining my nasal cavity. I sense the faint aroma of wet grass, the ghostly whisper of a moment once lived.

I can feel each cold strand sticking to my exposed skin. The uneven ground moulding itself into the soft flesh covering my bones; with hindsight I know this will leave scatters of red depressions on my palms, knees and cheek, some still carrying debris to be carefully extracted some hours later.

In spite of the crisp morning air blowing gently over me, immediately cooling the sweat that is leaking from each of my pores, my eyes are erupting. They spew molten tears which flow unabashedly down my burning cheeks, tumbling down to the ground where they become indistinguishable from the fallen raindrops nestling amongst the blades of grass.

As the scene unfurls behind my eyes, I am at peace. Transported from the present, my anguish is momentarily subdued and the ocean is still. At least on the surface.

I gently peel my cheek from the ground, each strand of grass clinging to me as if trying to stop me from leaving this moment and continuing to the next. If only they were as sticky as the coagulating blood I have yet to notice seeping from my leg, and as strong as the force of impact that propelled me here.

With my palms flat against the cool, damp ground, I push myself upwards. I make an attempt to move my legs but as I do so a shard of stabbing pain shoots through one of my thighs; I immediately drop back onto the grass and expel a breathy grunt as the air is forced from my lungs. With the cease in movement, the pain reduces its intensity to a duller throbbing.

My train of thought abruptly crashes as an intrusive, incessant beeping startles me out of myself. My heart rate doubles in less than a second and my left thigh consequently begins to painfully pulsate. Using the wall to steady myself I rise from the chair, which is slowly prised from my skin as the vacuum created by my clammy thigh is broken. I try to peer into the room emitting the frantic tones, but before I can focus on anything inside the blinds snap shut with such ferocity that I start.

The sound of hustle and bustle down the corridor steals my attention; as the group of nurses and doctors approaches me I can sense an air of tension, their voices are sharp and quick, mirroring their movements. They enter the room and momentarily the alarm gains strength, then the door slams shut behind them and within moments the corridor falls silent. 


© Copyright 2017 Jasper Fitzgerald . All rights reserved.

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