There are times when I see a face and I cannot remember the person's name. I know this is a common occurrence with many of us, but I still see many of these faces some twenty years later. They come to me, and I re-live a day in the life of a young man trying to save the world.
It was a Friday and I was going in for a routine eight hour shift, and I was excited because some friends from work were having a party after work. I was teamed with Dejuana this
particular day, and I always enjoyed working with her, as she was very good at her job. We began the shift with an auto accident as soon as we had clocked in. We arrived at the scene to find a head-on collision killing five elderly people and the lone survivor was a drunk driver, hanging on by a thread. I felt so bad for the victims as I covered them with the customary sheets. The drunk driver died enroute to the hospital.
Soon after cleaning the ambulance and re-stocking the sheets, we received another call and it came in as a gunshot victim. Upon arrival at the scene, a sixteen year old was lying in his fathers front yard, his back riddled with buckshot from his father's twelve gauge. He had been angered and tried to take his father's money for drugs. We covered the young boy with a sheet and waited for the coroner to arrive. I remember the dots of red bleeding through the fresh white sheet.
It was now about noon and we decided to try and have lunch. As we sat in the hospital cafeteria pushing our food around, Dejuana said she hated days like this and I had to agree with her. We had barely finished our cigarettes when another call came in. It was another gunshot victim, and it was twenty miles out.
Enroute to the scene, I played all the scenarios of the day through my head and I prayed for the victim while driving. (this is a common occurrence, also). When we arrived at the little country store, a mother came running to a parked truck. I opened the door, only to
find an eight year old little girl with a huge hole in her head. She had been dead for some time, as the coagulated blood was apparent. Her face had turned ashen and her lips blue. She had been shot by her four year old brother by a 38 caliber Smith & Wesson found in the unlocked glove box.
Dejuana and I wept on the way back to the hospital, as the day had finally landed the knock-out punch. As I said before I still cannot remember those victims names, but the small details will haunt me forever. The little boy had the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and his sister...1
covered with the white sheet of her time...2
he was one of those solitary men...3
she wore white patent leather shoes, with stains from the face of hell. 4
Author notes
(2) 'He was one of those solitary men; he paced the same line every day, gazed the same sky every night, and somehow yet... everyone examined him as though he had a tale to tell.'
This quote was my inspiration and perhaps I am a solitary man. I carry so many faces around with me all the time. I have seen the cruelty of men, played out in manners unimaginable to most. Life will test one's faith, over and over. The small details never rest and will always remain with me till I am ash and dust again.
My story was short and condensed, but I hope you see the attention to the small details of living, those are what people die for.
I rarely dream these days while sleeping, I wish I could. The daydreams are what haunts me. God bless the victim.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Great Write...
You have to excuse me right now, but the tears just shorted out my keyboard...
Salute!!! -
You have always produced very emotive and interesting pieces and conversation based on your time in this field. I believe you really evoked and shared a lot of that horridness in the lines, and again let us glimpse into a bit of yourself.
J -
Hauntingly vivid
You brought to mind so much of my own life trials in this write. Is was if I were standing beside you through each and every story told. God Bless you always my brother.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Vivid and intense
This is most definately a touching piece. It strikes at the heart and soul. I think we often forget that there are many people amoung us in various service type work environments that basically face a war zone without ever having to leave their home town to do so.
You story gives us a small glimpse of things we probably should consider every time we hear a siren. Thanks for sharing it.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 4, characters: 5.
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Hauntingly immaculate penning
Sighhh...Muddy, ya know I love you dearly. This penning is yet another reason why...I have Friends in the medical profession, including a field supervisor with the ambulance service, firemen/EMT's & a lady that works in the ER of a children's hospital. It takes an amazingly strong person of great character to be able to do this kind of work. The burnout & suicide rates are quite high, as I'm sure you're aware. These people, these heroic, intrepid Souls, reveal their compassion & Grace on a daily basis...God bless 'em, one & all. Richard, you're a Good Man. I've always sensed it, known it, believed it & promoted it. This is further proof of why I do, my Friend. God hears your Heart, Sweetie...He knows...
Wanderer
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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