ollieollie

United States

Um......hi

Over the past year, I defeated a fear of other people, learned the value of clarity and brevity, fought writer's block, and developed pride in my words.

Now I am a writer with a love for onomatopoeias and an affinity for semicolons.

Message from Writer

This community has helped me get over a fear of showing people my writing, and an inability to take ownership and pride in what comes out of my mouth and fingertips.

I can't thank any of you enough for that.

I welcome any feedback or criticism that you have to offer. You're here because you at least found something of mine that sparked interest, so thank you.
I want to improve.

Warm

October 29, 2017

    The lights are dimmed. The room is cold. An old woman lays on the small bed, surrounded by family members. She is no longer conscious.

    Beep.

    Beep.

    Beep.


    A girl sits on a stool next to the bed, studying the faces of her relatives. Too old to be a child but too young to know anything else, she isn't quite sure where her place is. She just knows that she feels an immense, empty sadness. She is holding her grandmother's hand.

    She's spent most of the past six months in the hospital. The first four were the easiest. Grandma could still talk, have a conversation. Not much had changed. Then she started sleeping more. The conversations became rare. For the last two, Grandma only spoke Spanish. The girl didn't know how to speak Spanish. She always felt guilty for not learning, and now she was kicking herself.

    Grandma was unconscious for the last week. By then, the girl was numb. The hospital and the waiting room had become part of a routine. It didn't seem real when they were all called into the little room. It was at the end of a long, white hall.

    Now she is watching her aunt, who is sitting on the other side of the bed. The older woman is crying. "Just let go, mom. Just let go."

    Her father comes over. A few leaked tears are running down his cheeks. The girl doesn't remember the last time she saw her dad cry. He kisses his mother on the forehead.

    The action sparks a memory of a lullaby that her grandma used to sing to her. Not knowing what else to do, the girl starts to sing.

    "Buenas noches, esta manana, que Juan Pestanas, ya va venir..."

    The girl starts crying. She doesn't want to cry. Crying is inconvenient. Everyone is crying. She tries to choke out the rest of the song, but the words get caught in her chest. It hurts.

    She knows what's coming a second before it happens. 



    Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep...



    The girl's mom has to drag her away from the bed. Her grandma's hand is still warm when she lets go.

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  • October 29, 2017 - 1:37pm (Now Viewing)

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2 Comments
  • AbigailSauble

    Ooh, ooh, ooh . . . . this is incredibly sad. But I love the emotions in this. Great, great work!


    over 2 years ago
  • rainandsonder

    This was really sad but also really good. Great work!


    almost 3 years ago