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Some of them stared at me. I didn’t care. At that blurred moment in time, I cared for nothing. Except for the raw pumping of blood in my ears.
My feet seemed to guide the rest of me along the harshly illuminated corridor. My body was in the A & E wing of the county hospital, but my mind was up in the night. Stranded in the darkness. And no one could help me. With each step I took, I felt another little piece of me being left behind in that corridor. My ears rang painfully, and my heart thudded against my chest. It all felt so dreamlike, and as flickers of awareness filtered through into me, I screamed inside to wake up. Wake up and sigh in relief at the nightmare. But it was all real. The soulless corridor stretched on endlessly before me, and I felt the walls close in on me. But it was no dream.
Every now and then, I would pass someone, dressed in the same matching white clothing, and on his or her face they wore an expression of curiosity mingled with a form of trepidation. I recall feeling the sensation of fury at them, raw, untamed. Yet it could only rise to meet the all-consuming numbness that seemed to shroud me. As I passed them, I felt their stares pierce through me, scanning me for an answer. I felt that I could not find an answer even for myself. I could only hear the deafening screeching of the machine that was hooked up to her. An emotionless, terrible sound. A sound signalling the end I knew was coming all along…
I remember thinking how bored they all seemed. The bland clock suspended above the reception counter told the room that it was half past twelve at night. The hard, uncomfortable rows of chairs stood mainly empty, eagerly anticipating the morning, and all the backs they could agonise. One man sat with a leg slung over his knee, a paperback positioned precariously on it. His eyes flitted over the words, seemingly unconcerned with taking them in.
As I staggered passed the toy-town-esque counter, a foreign nurse whose chin rested in her hand glanced up at me and stared curiously. She mumbled something through her exhausted frown, yet her words failed to mean anything to me and departed through my other ear. Within an instant she had forgotten about me.
A pale woman hovered over one of the chairs, balancing a sobbing baby in a thin arm, and attempting to bribe it with a bottle. Her pinched face gave me an impatient snap of attention as I ambled passed her, watching her try to entice her baby; her expression telling me to mind my own business.
And that was it. That was the leaving party that had been arranged for me. No drink, no food, not even a smile. Just a meaningless stare, and get out of here. No room for you. Busy, busy, busy. Say good-bye and leave. I hadn’t even been granted that much.
Her deep blue-eyes had welcomed me in; pitifully it seemed, despite her position. But then, that had always been her. Fretting and worrying over me – poor little Jacky-boy. Friendless through childhood, with only her to toss the ball back to me. And then, all of a sudden, she was gone. Faded away, the ball bouncing passed where she once stood – no one to catch it. Lying weakly in the bed, her eyes struggled to maintain the warmth they had always held, but she tried with all her might to hold on to herself.
“…Jack.”
Words seemed unable to express the emotions that raced through me like freight trains.
“Mum.”
She exhaled; looking like it caused her great pain.
“I’m so relieved you could make it.”
Her words seemed to hold barbs that brought the salty sting of tears to my eyes. I sank onto the bed that she lay in.
What could I say? “Mother, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears spilled down my face.
“Oh, Jacky. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s alright.”
Nothing would ever be alright again. As I had raced against time to reach the hospital, I had gazed longingly at the sun setting over the horizon. Rays of dark orange being cast across the patchwork of clouds, lingering overhead. With each second that passed, the sun reclined further below the ground, and I felt myself mirroring it. My sun had set, and the darkness had started its reign over me.
I looked away from the shattered woman whom I had loved for so many years. “It’s not fair.”
I could hear her fight back her own tears. “Life is never fair Jack, but that doesn’t mean we have to cry about it.”
My eyes met with hers again.
“The darkest hour is just before dawn, Jacky. Always remember that.”
The machine standing next to the bed beeped effortlessly, counting down to the inevitable.
My sun dipped below the horizon, and the night came. Suddenly, her eyes had squeezed shut, and the machine rang out, caught in mid-sentence. I sprang off the bed, and shouted out for help. I wanted to call out to her, but she couldn’t hear. She was already gone.
The men in white coats yanked the pillows from under her head, and proceeded to attempt the impossible. The violent jolts from the defibrillators that seemed to lash out at me as my mother jerked in the bed, repeated themselves over and over again, until the faces turned to their ritualistic sorrowful gaze.
“Time of death… twelve-sixteen…”
The machine was silenced.
And so it was, that I stood emotionlessly in the car park outside the Accident & Emergency wing of the building. It all seemed so futile. No heroes and villains in my tale. No final twist to avoid desertion. Not even a bid of farewell. Just death, crude and efficient. Bang on time, waiting for no one. For me, the darkest hour stretched on eternally. I became a shadow of my old self, left behind in the waiting room of the hospital.
Any friends that I thought I once had gave up on me and moved on. The sun had set, and it didn’t look willing to ever rise again. Life seemed to have lost its meaning; I felt a dagger inch ever closer to me as each day passed. It was not until two years after my mother’s death from the stroke, that I finally realised how much weight her final words carried. Susan and I clicked instantly. They say you know when you fall in love, and I felt it was true. And on the autumn evening, I proposed. Her eyes filled with tears, joyous, and in that instant I saw a flicker of my mother in her eyes – caring and happy, looking down on me. Her answer had brought with it joy of my own. And since then, we lived on together – me and her, against the world. Eventually we had three children together, and the darkest hour loosened its grip even more.
And now I finally realise what it all meant. The sun had set on me, and it took my former self with it. And yet, eventually the darkness does lift, and the sun starts afresh again. With it, we change. I changed. And I started again. I feel my mother knew that. Somewhere, I feel she knew that the sun set on me, and it rose again. More powerful than ever.
My feet seemed to guide the rest of me along the harshly illuminated corridor. My body was in the A & E wing of the county hospital, but my mind was up in the night. Stranded in the darkness. And no one could help me. With each step I took, I felt another little piece of me being left behind in that corridor. My ears rang painfully, and my heart thudded against my chest. It all felt so dreamlike, and as flickers of awareness filtered through into me, I screamed inside to wake up. Wake up and sigh in relief at the nightmare. But it was all real. The soulless corridor stretched on endlessly before me, and I felt the walls close in on me. But it was no dream.
Every now and then, I would pass someone, dressed in the same matching white clothing, and on his or her face they wore an expression of curiosity mingled with a form of trepidation. I recall feeling the sensation of fury at them, raw, untamed. Yet it could only rise to meet the all-consuming numbness that seemed to shroud me. As I passed them, I felt their stares pierce through me, scanning me for an answer. I felt that I could not find an answer even for myself. I could only hear the deafening screeching of the machine that was hooked up to her. An emotionless, terrible sound. A sound signalling the end I knew was coming all along…
I remember thinking how bored they all seemed. The bland clock suspended above the reception counter told the room that it was half past twelve at night. The hard, uncomfortable rows of chairs stood mainly empty, eagerly anticipating the morning, and all the backs they could agonise. One man sat with a leg slung over his knee, a paperback positioned precariously on it. His eyes flitted over the words, seemingly unconcerned with taking them in.
As I staggered passed the toy-town-esque counter, a foreign nurse whose chin rested in her hand glanced up at me and stared curiously. She mumbled something through her exhausted frown, yet her words failed to mean anything to me and departed through my other ear. Within an instant she had forgotten about me.
A pale woman hovered over one of the chairs, balancing a sobbing baby in a thin arm, and attempting to bribe it with a bottle. Her pinched face gave me an impatient snap of attention as I ambled passed her, watching her try to entice her baby; her expression telling me to mind my own business.
And that was it. That was the leaving party that had been arranged for me. No drink, no food, not even a smile. Just a meaningless stare, and get out of here. No room for you. Busy, busy, busy. Say good-bye and leave. I hadn’t even been granted that much.
Her deep blue-eyes had welcomed me in; pitifully it seemed, despite her position. But then, that had always been her. Fretting and worrying over me – poor little Jacky-boy. Friendless through childhood, with only her to toss the ball back to me. And then, all of a sudden, she was gone. Faded away, the ball bouncing passed where she once stood – no one to catch it. Lying weakly in the bed, her eyes struggled to maintain the warmth they had always held, but she tried with all her might to hold on to herself.
“…Jack.”
Words seemed unable to express the emotions that raced through me like freight trains.
“Mum.”
She exhaled; looking like it caused her great pain.
“I’m so relieved you could make it.”
Her words seemed to hold barbs that brought the salty sting of tears to my eyes. I sank onto the bed that she lay in.
What could I say? “Mother, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears spilled down my face.
“Oh, Jacky. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s alright.”
Nothing would ever be alright again. As I had raced against time to reach the hospital, I had gazed longingly at the sun setting over the horizon. Rays of dark orange being cast across the patchwork of clouds, lingering overhead. With each second that passed, the sun reclined further below the ground, and I felt myself mirroring it. My sun had set, and the darkness had started its reign over me.
I looked away from the shattered woman whom I had loved for so many years. “It’s not fair.”
I could hear her fight back her own tears. “Life is never fair Jack, but that doesn’t mean we have to cry about it.”
My eyes met with hers again.
“The darkest hour is just before dawn, Jacky. Always remember that.”
The machine standing next to the bed beeped effortlessly, counting down to the inevitable.
My sun dipped below the horizon, and the night came. Suddenly, her eyes had squeezed shut, and the machine rang out, caught in mid-sentence. I sprang off the bed, and shouted out for help. I wanted to call out to her, but she couldn’t hear. She was already gone.
The men in white coats yanked the pillows from under her head, and proceeded to attempt the impossible. The violent jolts from the defibrillators that seemed to lash out at me as my mother jerked in the bed, repeated themselves over and over again, until the faces turned to their ritualistic sorrowful gaze.
“Time of death… twelve-sixteen…”
The machine was silenced.
And so it was, that I stood emotionlessly in the car park outside the Accident & Emergency wing of the building. It all seemed so futile. No heroes and villains in my tale. No final twist to avoid desertion. Not even a bid of farewell. Just death, crude and efficient. Bang on time, waiting for no one. For me, the darkest hour stretched on eternally. I became a shadow of my old self, left behind in the waiting room of the hospital.
Any friends that I thought I once had gave up on me and moved on. The sun had set, and it didn’t look willing to ever rise again. Life seemed to have lost its meaning; I felt a dagger inch ever closer to me as each day passed. It was not until two years after my mother’s death from the stroke, that I finally realised how much weight her final words carried. Susan and I clicked instantly. They say you know when you fall in love, and I felt it was true. And on the autumn evening, I proposed. Her eyes filled with tears, joyous, and in that instant I saw a flicker of my mother in her eyes – caring and happy, looking down on me. Her answer had brought with it joy of my own. And since then, we lived on together – me and her, against the world. Eventually we had three children together, and the darkest hour loosened its grip even more.
And now I finally realise what it all meant. The sun had set on me, and it took my former self with it. And yet, eventually the darkness does lift, and the sun starts afresh again. With it, we change. I changed. And I started again. I feel my mother knew that. Somewhere, I feel she knew that the sun set on me, and it rose again. More powerful than ever.
Quite a story there, Prophet. Excellent. Held me from start to finish.
Nicely done. I was in the room with him :(
* reaches for tissue *
* reaches for tissue *
Wow, thanks. :)
I must admit, I found it hard to do, but I'm quite pleased with how it turned out.
I must admit, I found it hard to do, but I'm quite pleased with how it turned out.
That was extremely powerful, i felt myself a little moved at times, which is impressive considering I have a cheerful song playing on my iTunes at the moment lol.
Effectively unsettling, that was a really good read. Well done.
Effectively unsettling, that was a really good read. Well done.
Some of them stared at me. I didn’t care. At that blurred moment in time, I cared for nothing. Except for the raw pumping of blood in my ears.
My feet seemed to guide the rest of me along the harshly illuminated corridor. My body was in the A & E wing of the county hospital, but my mind was up in the night. Stranded in the darkness. And no one could help me. With each step I took, I felt another little piece of me being left behind in that corridor. My ears rang painfully, and my heart thudded against my chest. It all felt so dreamlike, and as flickers of awareness filtered through into me, I screamed inside to wake up. Wake up and sigh in relief at the nightmare. But it was all real. The soulless corridor stretched on endlessly before me, and I felt the walls close in on me. But it was no dream.
Every now and then, I would pass someone, dressed in the same matching white clothing, and on his or her face they wore an expression of curiosity mingled with a form of trepidation. I recall feeling the sensation of fury at them, raw, untamed. Yet it could only rise to meet the all-consuming numbness that seemed to shroud me. As I passed them, I felt their stares pierce through me, scanning me for an answer. I felt that I could not find an answer even for myself. I could only hear the deafening screeching of the machine that was hooked up to her. An emotionless, terrible sound. A sound signalling the end I knew was coming all along…
I remember thinking how bored they all seemed. The bland clock suspended above the reception counter told the room that it was half past twelve at night. The hard, uncomfortable rows of chairs stood mainly empty, eagerly anticipating the morning, and all the backs they could agonise. One man sat with a leg slung over his knee, a paperback positioned precariously on it. His eyes flitted over the words, seemingly unconcerned with taking them in.
As I staggered passed the toy-town-esque counter, a foreign nurse whose chin rested in her hand glanced up at me and stared curiously. She mumbled something through her exhausted frown, yet her words failed to mean anything to me and departed through my other ear. Within an instant she had forgotten about me.
A pale woman hovered over one of the chairs, balancing a sobbing baby in a thin arm, and attempting to bribe it with a bottle. Her pinched face gave me an impatient snap of attention as I ambled passed her, watching her try to entice her baby; her expression telling me to mind my own business.
And that was it. That was the leaving party that had been arranged for me. No drink, no food, not even a smile. Just a meaningless stare, and get out of here. No room for you. Busy, busy, busy. Say good-bye and leave. I hadn’t even been granted that much.
Her deep blue-eyes had welcomed me in; pitifully it seemed, despite her position. But then, that had always been her. Fretting and worrying over me – poor little Jacky-boy. Friendless through childhood, with only her to toss the ball back to me. And then, all of a sudden, she was gone. Faded away, the ball bouncing passed where she once stood – no one to catch it. Lying weakly in the bed, her eyes struggled to maintain the warmth they had always held, but she tried with all her might to hold on to herself.
“…Jack.”
Words seemed unable to express the emotions that raced through me like freight trains.
“Mum.”
She exhaled; looking like it caused her great pain.
“I’m so relieved you could make it.”
Her words seemed to hold barbs that brought the salty sting of tears to my eyes. I sank onto the bed that she lay in.
What could I say? “Mother, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears spilled down my face.
“Oh, Jacky. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s alright.”
Nothing would ever be alright again. As I had raced against time to reach the hospital, I had gazed longingly at the sun setting over the horizon. Rays of dark orange being cast across the patchwork of clouds, lingering overhead. With each second that passed, the sun reclined further below the ground, and I felt myself mirroring it. My sun had set, and the darkness had started its reign over me.
I looked away from the shattered woman whom I had loved for so many years. “It’s not fair.”
I could hear her fight back her own tears. “Life is never fair Jack, but that doesn’t mean we have to cry about it.”
My eyes met with hers again.
“The darkest hour is just before dawn, Jacky. Always remember that.”
The machine standing next to the bed beeped effortlessly, counting down to the inevitable.
My sun dipped below the horizon, and the night came. Suddenly, her eyes had squeezed shut, and the machine rang out, caught in mid-sentence. I sprang off the bed, and shouted out for help. I wanted to call out to her, but she couldn’t hear. She was already gone.
The men in white coats yanked the pillows from under her head, and proceeded to attempt the impossible. The violent jolts from the defibrillators that seemed to lash out at me as my mother jerked in the bed, repeated themselves over and over again, until the faces turned to their ritualistic sorrowful gaze.
“Time of death… twelve-sixteen…”
The machine was silenced.
And so it was, that I stood emotionlessly in the car park outside the Accident & Emergency wing of the building. It all seemed so futile. No heroes and villains in my tale. No final twist to avoid desertion. Not even a bid of farewell. Just death, crude and efficient. Bang on time, waiting for no one. For me, the darkest hour stretched on eternally. I became a shadow of my old self, left behind in the waiting room of the hospital.
Any friends that I thought I once had gave up on me and moved on. The sun had set, and it didn’t look willing to ever rise again. Life seemed to have lost its meaning; I felt a dagger inch ever closer to me as each day passed. It was not until two years after my mother’s death from the stroke, that I finally realised how much weight her final words carried. Susan and I clicked instantly. They say you know when you fall in love, and I felt it was true. And on the autumn evening, I proposed. Her eyes filled with tears, joyous, and in that instant I saw a flicker of my mother in her eyes – caring and happy, looking down on me. Her answer had brought with it joy of my own. And since then, we lived on together – me and her, against the world. Eventually we had three children together, and the darkest hour loosened its grip even more.
And now I finally realise what it all meant. The sun had set on me, and it took my former self with it. And yet, eventually the darkness does lift, and the sun starts afresh again. With it, we change. I changed. And I started again. I feel my mother knew that. Somewhere, I feel she knew that the sun set on me, and it rose again. More powerful than ever.
My feet seemed to guide the rest of me along the harshly illuminated corridor. My body was in the A & E wing of the county hospital, but my mind was up in the night. Stranded in the darkness. And no one could help me. With each step I took, I felt another little piece of me being left behind in that corridor. My ears rang painfully, and my heart thudded against my chest. It all felt so dreamlike, and as flickers of awareness filtered through into me, I screamed inside to wake up. Wake up and sigh in relief at the nightmare. But it was all real. The soulless corridor stretched on endlessly before me, and I felt the walls close in on me. But it was no dream.
Every now and then, I would pass someone, dressed in the same matching white clothing, and on his or her face they wore an expression of curiosity mingled with a form of trepidation. I recall feeling the sensation of fury at them, raw, untamed. Yet it could only rise to meet the all-consuming numbness that seemed to shroud me. As I passed them, I felt their stares pierce through me, scanning me for an answer. I felt that I could not find an answer even for myself. I could only hear the deafening screeching of the machine that was hooked up to her. An emotionless, terrible sound. A sound signalling the end I knew was coming all along…
I remember thinking how bored they all seemed. The bland clock suspended above the reception counter told the room that it was half past twelve at night. The hard, uncomfortable rows of chairs stood mainly empty, eagerly anticipating the morning, and all the backs they could agonise. One man sat with a leg slung over his knee, a paperback positioned precariously on it. His eyes flitted over the words, seemingly unconcerned with taking them in.
As I staggered passed the toy-town-esque counter, a foreign nurse whose chin rested in her hand glanced up at me and stared curiously. She mumbled something through her exhausted frown, yet her words failed to mean anything to me and departed through my other ear. Within an instant she had forgotten about me.
A pale woman hovered over one of the chairs, balancing a sobbing baby in a thin arm, and attempting to bribe it with a bottle. Her pinched face gave me an impatient snap of attention as I ambled passed her, watching her try to entice her baby; her expression telling me to mind my own business.
And that was it. That was the leaving party that had been arranged for me. No drink, no food, not even a smile. Just a meaningless stare, and get out of here. No room for you. Busy, busy, busy. Say good-bye and leave. I hadn’t even been granted that much.
Her deep blue-eyes had welcomed me in; pitifully it seemed, despite her position. But then, that had always been her. Fretting and worrying over me – poor little Jacky-boy. Friendless through childhood, with only her to toss the ball back to me. And then, all of a sudden, she was gone. Faded away, the ball bouncing passed where she once stood – no one to catch it. Lying weakly in the bed, her eyes struggled to maintain the warmth they had always held, but she tried with all her might to hold on to herself.
“…Jack.”
Words seemed unable to express the emotions that raced through me like freight trains.
“Mum.”
She exhaled; looking like it caused her great pain.
“I’m so relieved you could make it.”
Her words seemed to hold barbs that brought the salty sting of tears to my eyes. I sank onto the bed that she lay in.
What could I say? “Mother, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears spilled down my face.
“Oh, Jacky. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s alright.”
Nothing would ever be alright again. As I had raced against time to reach the hospital, I had gazed longingly at the sun setting over the horizon. Rays of dark orange being cast across the patchwork of clouds, lingering overhead. With each second that passed, the sun reclined further below the ground, and I felt myself mirroring it. My sun had set, and the darkness had started its reign over me.
I looked away from the shattered woman whom I had loved for so many years. “It’s not fair.”
I could hear her fight back her own tears. “Life is never fair Jack, but that doesn’t mean we have to cry about it.”
My eyes met with hers again.
“The darkest hour is just before dawn, Jacky. Always remember that.”
The machine standing next to the bed beeped effortlessly, counting down to the inevitable.
My sun dipped below the horizon, and the night came. Suddenly, her eyes had squeezed shut, and the machine rang out, caught in mid-sentence. I sprang off the bed, and shouted out for help. I wanted to call out to her, but she couldn’t hear. She was already gone.
The men in white coats yanked the pillows from under her head, and proceeded to attempt the impossible. The violent jolts from the defibrillators that seemed to lash out at me as my mother jerked in the bed, repeated themselves over and over again, until the faces turned to their ritualistic sorrowful gaze.
“Time of death… twelve-sixteen…”
The machine was silenced.
And so it was, that I stood emotionlessly in the car park outside the Accident & Emergency wing of the building. It all seemed so futile. No heroes and villains in my tale. No final twist to avoid desertion. Not even a bid of farewell. Just death, crude and efficient. Bang on time, waiting for no one. For me, the darkest hour stretched on eternally. I became a shadow of my old self, left behind in the waiting room of the hospital.
Any friends that I thought I once had gave up on me and moved on. The sun had set, and it didn’t look willing to ever rise again. Life seemed to have lost its meaning; I felt a dagger inch ever closer to me as each day passed. It was not until two years after my mother’s death from the stroke, that I finally realised how much weight her final words carried. Susan and I clicked instantly. They say you know when you fall in love, and I felt it was true. And on the autumn evening, I proposed. Her eyes filled with tears, joyous, and in that instant I saw a flicker of my mother in her eyes – caring and happy, looking down on me. Her answer had brought with it joy of my own. And since then, we lived on together – me and her, against the world. Eventually we had three children together, and the darkest hour loosened its grip even more.
And now I finally realise what it all meant. The sun had set on me, and it took my former self with it. And yet, eventually the darkness does lift, and the sun starts afresh again. With it, we change. I changed. And I started again. I feel my mother knew that. Somewhere, I feel she knew that the sun set on me, and it rose again. More powerful than ever.