Tick. Tick. Tick. Contrary to popular belief hospitals were never quiet. Though there seemed to be an invisible curtain upon them that swathed the patients in fragility and masked all sounds; a veil of sterile silence that made visitors speak in hushed tones so as not to disturb their loved ones whose lives beat faintly through wires of mortality. Hardly anyone noticed how the ticking of the clock increased with every movement, how the constant beeping of machines ate up the silence, or how they all blended together to form an endless laconic symphony of time and slipping life. 1
Riona Harris however, was all too familiar with hospitals and their sounds. She’d been in them long enough for the echoes to make themselves known to her. Blinking against the fluorescent lights which stained everything a dull white she swallowed uneasily, tasting the antiseptic flavour which penetrated everything here. The stiff sheets beneath her offered no comfort, the plastic tubes dug into her skin; everywhere was the bitter coldness of metal and loneliness. Even the array of flowers on her bedside table appeared impersonal, their bright colours clashing with the room’s unnatural whiteness. 2
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clocked mocked her as its hands tentatively crawled by. Beep. Beep. Beep. Never before had her heartbeat sound so alien. Tick. Beep. Tick. Beep. Tick. Suddenly a violent pain exploded within her with an intensity that made her scream, calmness crumbling as sound shattered it. The blood rushed to her head and her heart pounded, pale fingers gripping the sheets tightly as the room swam about. Lights from the machines blinked rapidly as the symphony reached its peak, the noise a deafening crescendo. Her body became rigid and she couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air. There wasn’t enough air. There wasn’t enough air…3
Rubbery hands held Riona down, their inhuman smoothness strange on her feverish skin. The reserved, empty atmosphere of the hospital room disappeared and she was plunged into chaotic confusion, voices slipping in and out of focus and darkness flitting across her vision. Her arms thrashed wildly as the pain clawed at her insides, consuming her until reality teetered upon madness. 4
But relief came suddenly as darkness settled upon Riona, gathering her up in its immense folds and pulling her back further and further to a place she didn’t know. But she wasn’t afraid. She preferred the darkness, where she could hide in its shadows and be free of the constant scrutiny of faceless strangers. Here, the silver moonlight rippled upon sapphire waters like trails of white ribbon in a gentle breeze, and serenity wove itself through the stillness. If this was death then she’d welcome it with warm arms, for it brought her such strange comfort. A feeling of peace stole over her body as she gazed out into the silvery waves, at the foam breaking on the shores. She was finally free.5
Slowly she sat down upon the warm sand, lifting her head heavenwards to look at the cosmos, at the stretch of sky sprinkled with pricks of glowing light and gentle swirls. This was the first time in a long while that Riona could see the sky, instead of fluorescent bulbs mimicking daylight every time she opened her eyes. As she watched, enchanted, remnants of a rhyme from a distant memory floated through her mind; lyrics dancing upon a melody dimmed by time. 6
Catch a falling star to put it in your pocket and save it for a rainy day…7
The words came to her with grace, effortlessly twirling and rising, repeating themselves as the melody wrapped around her. A voice coarsened slightly by age sung them softly and the memory became stronger; one of a story told by her grandmother many summer nights ago of how a wish would be granted to those who could catch a piece of the heavens. She remembered how it had been one of her favourite.8
Gazing at the inky abyss which stretched on until it melted into the moonlight streaked waters, Riona was struck by a deep desire to catch one of these pinpricks of light. If only she could catch one so that her wish would be granted. If only she could touch hope then everything would be okay again. Slowly she stretched her pale fingers towards the stars, but they remained as heavenly dust much too far for her to reach. Disappointment didn’t linger long though, for a sudden jolt caused serenity’s lacy tendrils to disperse as her surroundings wavered like mirages. They were bringing her back. But she didn’t want to return to the world where machines and mechanical lights were her company. 9
A glowing green speck of light hovered nearby, causing her to think for a fleeting moment that it was a falling star. Standing, she attempted to catch the firefly, for although it wasn’t a real falling star Riona knew that this one represented hers. Its shimmering light called her in a way that was both unexplainable and incomprehensible. But the creature eluded her grasp, flying so that she had to chase it, the sand slipping beneath her feet. They were bringing her back but she had to catch her star. Riona followed its smudgy neon trail, her arms outstretched, her fingers yearning for its light. A falling star… She would finally be able to catch one; just a little further and it’d be hers. 10
Reality broke like sunlight through dark clouds, darkness and light fighting for reign in a place that floated somewhere between sleep and the waking world. Yet further the firefly flew, its luminous form dancing before her eyes as it lead her deeper into the shadows and away from the summons of consciousness. Away from the light. At last her fingers wrapped themselves around the creature, glows of green seeping through the cracks of her hand and as darkness and light fell upon her in a mesh of colours, everything faded into oblivion. 11
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Excellent
"the silver moonlight rippled upon sapphire waters like trails of white ribbon in a gentle breeze, and serenity wove itself through the stillness." To capture a scene this well is remarkable. You have been blessed with a wonderful talent and are putting it to good use. Please keep writing.
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Thankyou for the lovely comment. I couldn't stop smiling when I read it
My ultimate dream is to be a writer, but I had my doubts and your comment really boosted my confidence about writing.
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Artistically told. Held the imagination well. It flowed beautifully and kept the interest. Well done.
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This was pretty good. I generally don't tend to like a lot of description (it sometimes gets in the way of what's actually happening), but the way you wrote this made the description a smooth, flowing part of the story. I liked this a lot. However, there is a mistake taht I'd like to pint out: The first line of paragraph 3 says "Tick. Tick. Tick. The clocked mocked her as its hands tentatively crawled by." I think that you should take the 'ed' off of clocked. It should be clock. Great job.
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Nice. For a moment there I was actually in the hospital. Both descriptions - the quiet, sterile silent version, and the chaotic code blue version - were well written and very visual. The only line that jarred me out of the piece was 'the fluorescent lights which stained everything a dull white'... 'fluorescent', 'stained' and 'dull' seem to somehow contradict each other in my head - when I read 'flourescent', I think of words like 'stark' and 'cold', rather than 'dull' - but it could just be me, in which case feel free to ignore me completely. Most people do, and rightly so.
I liked the idea of her going to 'another place'... it's been done before, of course, but rarely so eloquently. Unless I've completely missed the point, she dies in the end. What makes this story good, in my opinion, is that her death is a triumph rather than a tragedy. There's a feeling of hope (and relief at not being dragged back kicking and screaming to the hospital!) which leaves the reader with an oddly calm and positive glow.
And if I have completely missed the point, I don't care! I still enjoyed the dreamy quality it has. Long story short, a great read! Cheers.
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Lol. Wow you weren't kidding about the details. Your words really paint a picture in my mind and makes me feel like I am there witnessing everything. This is really good.
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Beautiful, very poetic. Usually I don't like to comment without offering some improvement reccommendation, but I have nothing for this. Brilliantly written
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WOW, THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C!!!!!!!!! Seriousely, that has got to be one of the best short stories I have EVER read!! Write more! Write more!!
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Very beautiful piece; I love descriptive works because I like to picture them in my mind's eye, and this was exactly what I was looking for. A perfect ending as well: I could see the darkness and light swirling around her, converging in the palms of her hands and then bursting outwards into nothingness.
All in all, a wonderful thing to be reading at 2:30 in the morning. ;Dbeginning: 3, language: 5, plot: 1, ending: 5, dialog: 1, characters: 3.
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It was a good story, quite well written...but...it almost seems as if you're trying too hard. I don't know...the sentences are very long, and each one contains, like, six metaphors. Maybe it's just me, but I prefer to just be taken away by a story, not by hundreds of details. I'm just giving you my opinion, however, and the story itself is really very good and reveals a lot of writing talent.
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Thanks for your comment. I had a feeling I might be over describing things since I have a habit of doing that when there's a word limitation to the piece... But I will definitely take your comment into consideration when I edit this further. Thanks again for reading and commenting
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interesting
i love the details but wasnt really interested int the story
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I think you mean in paragraph 7 star, instead of start. im not too sure.
but it was great. the details were so exact.
the character in the story doesn't really have a place to be, but an imagination to take her where she wants.
great piece
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Very insular and strange.
It is as if the character in the piece is floating through a world that she doesn't really feel a part of. In this sense it captures the modern lonely, isolated zeitgeist very well.
I've said before that Ghosts cannot exist because they no longer serve any practical purpose. With everybody ignoring everybody else we have all become ghosts in this living dead world that we all inhabit.
Good.
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