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Rien in |
A shrieking noise filled my eardrums, making them throb in an unsteady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. My right leg flooded with pain, as if a dam had broken releasing a huge tidal wave of throbbing terror. The shrieking noise got louder, and I suppressed the urge to press my hands against my ears. Instead I grabbed the crisp white sheets and balled them into my fists as I gasped for breath. The pain lasted no longer than a few seconds before slowly easing away, leaving me dizzy. The shrieking subsided and I realized that it had been me. A stampede of nurses came running into my hospital room (one of them carrying a suspiciously long needle), muttering:
“What happened?” a particularly strict nurse was saying, “You were supposed to give her enough anesthesia to last until the morning, when Dr.Stone does the surgery.”
“I did, she should be out cold,” another stammered.
“Okay, well give her some pain medicine, and put her back to sleep.”
I heard some shuffling to my right, and a few seconds later felt the cold liquid shoot out my IV and crawl up my veins. My vision started blurring, and my eyelids felt heavy. Blackness engulfed me and I welcomed it like an old friend, I smiled, as I slowly drifted back to sleep…
**
“Okay, Grams. I stirred in the vanilla, now what?”
The heat from the oven filled our minuscule apartment like well confined sauna, making my hair stick to my face.
“Pour it into the crust so we can put it in the oven.”
I lifted the thick metal bowl that was probably three time the size of my head, and pored the tongue-colored goo into the pie crust.
“Perfect,” my grandma said as she swooped passed me and carefully placed the pie into the oven. As I crossed the hallway to open a window I called, “Grams, why do we have to cook for them? They’re only staying for one night, and it’s not like they care about what they eat. They’re to busy”
“Your parents have been working very hard, and they deserve a good, wholesome meal. You know that honey.”
I rolled my eyes at her back.
“Whatever. I’m going to-“
“If every body could make their way to the stadium not, the show is about to begin. I repeat, the show is about to begin.” The mayor’s voice boomed through our apartment and seemed to vibrate off every piece of furniture we owned (which wasn’t a lot, trust me). He didn’t need to saw what show, everybody knew, the firework show was about to begin.
I had a great idea. I’d get the best view in the whole town.
“I’m going to watch the fireworks show. On the roof. I’ll be back soon!”
I scurried out the front door and up the rusty metal steps before Grams could even put down her wooden spoon. When I reached the thick wooded doorway marked with the words ,“authorized personnel only,” I slipped my jagged key into the ancient lock and turned the handle with a faint click.
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Looks great! Can't wait for
Looks great!
Can't wait for more!
wow it's great hurry up and
wow it's great hurry up and write some more!
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"Do you know what it feels like to be the last one to know the lock on the door has changed?" ~a verse from my new FAVORITEST song ever Dimelo by Enrique Iglesias translated into english!!! (spanish is better!)
Thanks again! I will...
Thanks again! I will...