Short Stories

1)The boy with an Endless Library

I almost lived at the hospital.  Not that I minded, they had books!

An almost endless supply, I could read them all and I would never get bored. Short stories with no real meaning, or long ones with lots of chapters. 

Ones that have one book, or ones with sequels. I didn't mind living at the hospital, it was like an endless library. But everyone else did. My mom was always mad or frustrated, my siblings looked so tired and some disappointed. 

My old therapist and doctor told me that I couldn't continue to live there. The only thing back then that changed, was the books. 

So every week was the same, every week, but one. I always remember that week with a smile, the one week that changed the others endlessly. Every week before, there was a dark cloud that covered me.

But that week was a bright rainbow that chased it away. I woke up to a new doctor, I remember him. He looked new to being a doctor in general, not just to my hospital. He looked as old as my brother. 

He said I could call him "Mr.Bright".

And he asked why I liked living at the hospital. I told him it's because I loved the books there, there was always a new one. No matter the week. I remember his response, it was different from the others. I like things that are different, and I liked him.

"So then you must really like yourself."

I was confused so I asked what he meant. He pointed to my bandages, 

"You, are a walking library. Full of all types of books! Scars or marks or whatever you want to call them. Always have a story to tell."

He pointed at the bandaid on my finger.

"Some with no real meaning, or are a single short."

Then he pointed to the bandages on my arms.

"While others have endless chapters and many sequels."

I never looked at my arms that way, neither did my family or the nurses. I held up my arm to look at it, it always made me feel sad.

"But everyone always says that these are small notes asking for help. . ."

Mr.Bright grabbed my hand and looked at me.

"It's your Library, you're the author. Only you get to decide how your stories are told."

"And besides-"

He continued, pushing my arm to show the underside.

"I said scars have stories to tell, that's because some are like medals."

"But I thought medals are given to soldiers."

"You are correct."

Mr.Bright let my arm go and patted my shoulder.

"You are a soldier, one who has fought many battles and is still fighting some today."

I was scared by that, 

"what if I lost my battles?"

"How will I know if I win?"

I asked, slightly panicked.

Mr.Bright smiled and stood up.

"You were a boy in a hospital, fighting a battle with a limited library always at your side."

"Now, you're a boy in a hospital, winning a battle with endless stories to share."

Mr.Bright turned to the side, and I see dad standing in the doorway with my old suitcase.

"Come on soldier,"  Dad said, 

"Let's write some better stories at home."

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Words: 535

I'll be honest, I did tear up a bit when I finished writing it. The story hits close to home for me, as a while ago I ended up in the hospital. One of the nurses came into my room and talked to me, that's where I got the idea for this story :>