Topic: Explode the moment writing activity
June 17, 2019 / By Dacey Question:
Tell me what you think!
Shallow breaths emitted from my cracked lips. The dull thudding of my hear slammed against my chest. All sounds silent as my feet pounded against the pavement, creating a beat to the words in my mind. Words that had changed everything. Cancer. Step. Cancer. Step – over and over again until it was permantely etched on the lining of my consciousness. My muscles were burning with the strain of the several miles I had already sprinted, hoping for the blissful numbing that strenuous activity usually brought – but after two hours, it didn’t look as though I was going to receive any relief. The brisk December air encased my lungs in an insufferable coldness, my chest burning with fear and anxiety.
The scene from that afternoon wouldn’t leave my mind as the words echoes, blocking out all other thoughts. The stench of the hospital still lingered in my nostrils, the sight of people inevitably losing the battle with their bodies still burning in my irises, the doctor’s words still as fresh as though he had just muttered them. My thick dark hair mocked their gleaming bald heads as their sunken eyes stared vacantly back at me in pity, knowing the journey ahead for me.
“Mr. Fallow, Dr. Rehymond will see you now.” The blonde woman smiled widely, and I had to resist the urge to slap it off her face, breaking her like the broken people surrounding us. Her cheerfulness shouldn’t be allowed in a place like this. The ***** didn’t have the right to be happy around such pain and anguish. I remember my stomach clenching, my chest exploding in fear as I scuffed my dress shoes across the linoleum floor, passing the blonde cow who was still grinning at me in a ridiculous fashion and into the office of Dr. Rehymond, Oncology.
“Mr. Fallow…James, please sit down.” He motioned with his mammoth hairy hands towards the straight backed chair opposite of his horrendous sized desk that seemed to swallow the entire room. I remember stifling back a chuckle that threatened to escape as I pictured the tiny man sitting behind such a thing, envisioning him sitting on a couple of Yellowpages in order to even see over it.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news…” His voice dropped off, muddy brown eyes searching my face for a flicker of emotion. He was **** out of luck if he honestly thought I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain. The man probably got off on people clinging to his crisp white coat as they sobbed their hearts out his midget little shoulder. Sighing, he sat down on the corner of his desk, as he held up the x-ray of my brain droning on and on about how the cancer that invaded my bran had metastasized. Terminal. Inoperable. The words his me, yet I felt nothing but the inexplicable urge to laugh once more as the man sat behind his desk, nearly disappearing from my line of sight. A numbness had enraptured my soul, creating a shell of a person devoid of any emotion as I sit fiddling with the tie that hung loosely around my neck.
“….We can slow the process. But, unfortunately, it will only gain you a few extra months at best. I’d say somewhere around six months, tops.” I hadn’t ever realized how much his mouth looked like a frog until that moment…ribbit, ribbit, ribbit. Slack jawed and flappy, his lips parted into a grimace that was apparently supposed to convey how sorry he was. However, it just made me want to slap him like the dumb broad outside.
“Thanks, doc.” And with that, I stood up and left the bewildered man sitting behind his ridiculous sized desk, the dumb broad, and the cancer-riddled patients with their pity filled eyes. That’s all there was to it. I was going to die. After striving for perfection for so thirty-one years, I was going to leave the world without changing a damn thing. More than half of my life had been spent in school – and it wasn’t going to matter when I couldn’t wipe my own *** anymore, drool dripping down my chin as I jibber-jabbered like a monkey. My addled brains wouldn’t remember ****, and nothing that jackass could do was going to matter.
So here I was, running in the hopes that I could turn back the clock to a time where I was still in control of my life. All power had been stripped from me and for once in my life, I was helpless. I reached up to the scratch the rough stubble that decorated my chin, only to feel dampness, my emotions betraying me as hot salty tears leaked from my blue eyes. I collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion as my throat itched with the yet unshed years and my chest tightened with the sobs that wracked my body. Snot dripped from my nose as I lay staring up at the starry indigo sky, the rough track below me digging into my sweaty back. I was going to die and no one would even remember my names, powerless and excruciatingly.
“It isn’t going to end this way!” I screamed up at the heavens, swiping the tears from my cheeks as I stood my aching body up.
* * * *
Here I sit, slouched on my leather couch as I stare at the empty
Here I sit, slouched on my leather couch as I stare at the empty amber vial in front of me. A glass of bourbon is in my hand and I bring it up to my lips, sighing. My apartment is eerily quiet, though I can distantly hear Miss Cranston’s television mumbling through the wall. The bitter acrid taste of pills is still burning in my throat. I was going to die, yes, but on it was now within my control. Suprisingly, that thought alone chased away all feeling of fear. I look around the empty room, seeing nothing but dusty law books and the occasional record littering the floor. No pictures of loved once. No mementos of my past. I swallow back the lump in my throat as once again the emotions betray me, tears silently tracking down through my stubble. I can feel the drugs coursing through my veins now, tugging my mind into the abyss. It’s peaceful and painless and I can still wipe my own ***, all dignity still intact. My breaths have begun to become deeper and I know the end is near, yet there
, yet there is still no panic.
I hear something in the distance. Is that the phone? It must be. I knew I should have unplugged it from the wall. The shrilling ends as my world begins to blur, darkness invading my line of vision…who is that? What are they saying?”
“Mr. Fallow? James. This is Dr. Rehymond. Please call us back right away. We have some excellent news for you…”
Billie | 6 days ago
For a creative writing assignment, I think that it's quite good. You don't say how old you are; I'm presuming that you're in high school. I think that what you've written should be worth a high mark! You've put lots of emotion into it which seems apropos to the terminal cancer diagnosis. However, I am a person with a medical background (a Radiologic Technologist and also a Cardiac Monitor Technician and a Certified Nursing Assistant). Therefore, I am looking for inconsistencies in what you've written -- I am guilty of doing so for whatever I read, particularly if there is medical theme to it. So, I'm wondering whether a person with an inoperable brain tumor could be running for miles on a cold winter's day. Quite often patients with brain tumors have seizure disorders or balance problems or severe headaches, and with metastasis, there could be other problems, such as shortness of breath. Anyway, your teacher may not be considering such questions as I am. Also, as a medical person, I'd hope that those treating your character would be more compassionate! Generally, an oncologist will give the patient some reason to be hopeful, I'd think! Still, despite my critique from a medical point of view, I do think that your story is very strong emotionally with vivid descriptions, and a writer is entitled to "poetic license", portraying your protagonist as you wish in order to produce the plot of your imagining. Reread what you've written for a couple minor errors which you can easily correct -- for instance, the word hear when you meant heart. And, good luck! I do think that you deserve a good grade!