He walked into her room. Familiar beeps perforated the silence. The smell of industrial cleanliness assaulted his nostrils, he still wa...

10 Years

allthingsm4tt

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He walked into her room. Familiar beeps perforated the silence. The smell of industrial cleanliness assaulted his nostrils, he still wasn’t used to it. New flowers coloured her bedside table. They were a neither colour between red and pink. He despised them, but the bin wasn’t an option. They were from her mother and carried all her trademarks: loud, pungent and cumbersome

He strolled over to the window and tugged open the blinds. A picture ornamented the window ledge. A boy and a girl in clothes that oozed 80s over posed for the photo. You could almost hear the person behind the camera ordering them to 'smile more.' He brushed it over with his palm and popped it back on the window ledge. 

Pulling a chair with him, he walked over to the bed. He sat down and dug into a carrier bag he had tie around his wrist.

"Good morning. How are you? Sorry I've been away for a while." He spoke slowly as his concentration was with the bag.

He continued to rummage then striking gold he pulled a book into the sky. "Look, I've found your favourite." For the first time he eyed the woman in the bed. 

She was still, the occasional rise and fall of her stomach indicated that life was still with her. Strands of her black hair covered her face. He stood up and brushed them aside. "That's better."

Wires entered and left her body like stitches. Bagged liquids hung above her bed, creating a kaleidoscope the 70s would have been proud of. Her body had lost the ability to run itself years ago. Now machinery did everything, everything except wake her up.

Death can be a choice, if you have enough money.

"Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes..." He read.

Beep.

He didn't look up. "...With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side..." 

Beep.

He stopped. Something was different, unfamiliar.

Beep. 

He eyeballed the machines, trying to place the migrant new beep 

Beep.

“What the f…” His book fell from his hand. The heart beat monitor was moving.

Beep. 

There it was again, his mind wasn't playing vicious tricks on him.

"Nurse," He squeaked, unprepared for the screams that he wanted. "Nurse!"  

Beep.

"NURSE!"

About Post Author

allthingsm4tt

Writer of things, meme supplier, semi-occasional six string swordist, sporadic cinema goer and smiler.

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