Hmmmm, well that’s odd… I started writing this last night, but was so tired I was trying to implant my face into my keyboard (errr phone) so I made the decision to quit for the night and start afresh this morning. So now, I go to open up the draft I had started – Only to find that what I had started writing last night somehow didn’t save (I could have sworn I had saved it). Looks like I’m (basically) starting over.
Ask a Paramedic for a prompt/topic to blog on and your sure to get something interesting (Yeah, you know who you are out there :-P). The topic I was given? “The Five Stages of Death” — The Five Stages of Death???? How am I suppose to incorporate that into a short story? In all fairness, I hadn’t made it clear that this was for a short story blog, only that I needed a prompt (dealing with serious case of writer’s – no, mental – block) in order to write my “daily post for NaBloPoMo.
I figured I’d give it a shot anyway and see what I could manage to do with the topic (or at least a part there of).
Sally gripped the phone tightly in her hand, her fingers turning white as she fell into the nearby chair. This couldn’t be happening! It couldn’t be real! She couldn’t be hearing the terrible news that the person on the other end of the line was relaying to her. Sally felt as if she were outside herself hearing the words, like it wasn’t really her hearing that her mother had just been taken to hospital via ambulance in critical condition.
“NO!!!!” she screamed silently her heart pounding against her chest.
“Ma’am,” the voice on the phone inquired, “Is there someone there that can give you a ride and perhaps be with you?”
Sally shook her head, even though she knew the person on the phone couldn’t see her. There was no one. At least no one she felt she knew enough to ask. For the first time in a long time Sally felt truly alone.
Being alone had never been something that bothered Sally. She had never been a “social bunny”. Yeah she had gone out to a couple open house type parties, but considering that she spent most of her time with her nose in her text books studying (and the rest of her time work) it was surprising she ever had the time for any social activities. And, the few parties she had gone to she felt like an outsider – like she didn’t fit in. Most of the college crowd at the parties seemed to be more interest in the latest gimmicks, fashion, celebrity news, so on and so forth. Sally tried to relate, tried to think of intelligent stuff to talk about that related to those areas of interest to so many, but she always came up short.
Feeling numb all over, Sally hung up the phone and pushed herself up the chair she had just fallen into a minute earlier. Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, fighting back the tears as she did so, Sally made her way out of the building to her car. Blindly she fumbled with her keys, trying (through tears that now ran freely once she was away from curious eyes) to find the right one to unlock the door. She felt the firm yet gentle of presence of a hand covering hers silently requesting she hand over the keys. Even without turning around, Sally could tell who it was by the black polished uniform shoes that came into view. Without argument she let Mike have the keys, let him unlock the door for her. Then, still holding the keys, Mike turned her to towards him. Pulled her into the comforting warmth of his arms. The silent tears of before now turned into gasping sobs as she accepted the warm embrace of the only person in the room that had seemed to care enough to follow and check on her.
(to be continued — How? I’m not sure quite yet)