A Picture a Day, Keeps the Something Something

One Picture, One Story

Last Call: Dreams

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I wandered slowly along the road, in no particular hurry to get home. I watched the cars drive by and looked up at the stars as they sprang into view. It was a perfect night and I wanted to enjoy it. Nothing was going to ruin this feeling. The last thing I remember I was flying through the air and the pavement was coming at me at an alarming speed.

Blackness; horrible, silent, total blackness. I wanted so bad to open my eyes. I tried and tried, but there was no budging. The pain was unbearable. I don’t think there was a single inch of my body that wasn’t screaming bloody murder. I felt someone touch my head, That hurts, you bastard! I tried to scream out, but my lips wouldn’t move. I was on a bed of some sort and I could feel the rough texture of the sheets. I could tell I was in a hospital from the beeps and the smell, but couldn’t figure out why I was unable to move or speak. You have to help him! I heard Paul screaming over and over. We are doing what we can, sir. was the reply from the doctor.

The sunlight danced through the thin curtains as I opened my eyes and peered about the room. The stale smell of cleaning supplies filled my nostrils and the repetitive beeps from the monitor filled my ears. Hello? I sheepishly squeaked. There was no answer and the halls seemed quiet. My legs were in casts and my head was bandaged. HELLO?! I screamed this time to make sure someone could hear. A small nurse walked calmly in the room, grabbed a clipboard and checked my IV. Welcome back, Mr. Johnson. We didn’t know if you’d wake up! She was very cheerful as she checked the monitors and fluffed my pillow. What happened? Where the Hell am I?

Without stopping she replied You were hit by a car. Got you pretty good, too. I wasn’t sure if you would make it.

I looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening. The room was spinning so I closed my eyes. Where’s Paul? I asked calmly. I didn’t know why I was alone and why no one offered to call anyone. Excuse me? Did you say Paul?

Yes! Where is he? He must be worried!

She looked at me with a blank, yet amused look. I’m not sure who Paul is

He lived in the old school house. Him and I were fixing it up. His number is in my wallet!

You didn’t have a wallet on you when you came in. We got your name from the old guy who owns the bar. He said you had stumbled out at about 2 am a few days ago.

I was beginning to panic. The room was spinning faster now.

There is no one living in the old school house; it burnt down 10 years ago.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I must be dreaming; I must still be unconscious.

No, sir, you are not. From what we have in the chart, you were evicted from your apartment and you went drinking. You fell into the street and a car hit you. Do you have any family we can call?

I was crying harder than I ever had, so much so that I could barely choke down enough air to breathe. No, I have no one.

The End.

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This entry was posted on November 15, 2013 by in Short Story, Uncategorized and tagged , , , .
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