Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

Blue Scrubs, Red Blood - Part 1

This prompt came from my awesome buddy @Kenzi95 ! She's one of the most hilarious people I know and she deserves some good vibes right now! If you got a few, send them her way :) I'm not sure if this is what you were hoping for, but it's what my twisted mind came up with :) Enjoy!

Drop a comment for what story/prompt you want to read next!

____________________

Power punches, like thunder bolts striking down. All bottled electricity and pale light, announcing it's departure. She had never acknowledged or appreciated the capacity to change routined landscape as it does. Because change happens, all the time, and most affectively altering when you least expect it.

She's panic-stricken that this might be one of those times.

Theres worries, thoughts, things that had been so prominent, right in the forefront of her stubborn mind; it's like it's simply vanished. Every emotion silenced, her consuming energy depleted, even her lanky extremities, all gone extinct. Theres nothing, not, not... She can't remember what was so bothersome in her life to devour so much of her optimism. When had she become so jaded and shaded? So much of her time and tears lost for no cause. Feeling like she knows everything there is to know, yet nothing motivates her to embrace her history, life and truths. But it's there, subtly. Hidden or distracted, she doesn't know. Some imminent information just beyond her grasp, halted just before remembrance.

It's fine though. It bothers her, but it's fine. She's fatigued anyways, feels heavy, as if full of lead. Sinking, air non-existent and yet it's too much. She's lightheaded. Every breath feels like it's meant to last a thousand years. It's overwhelming and underdeveloped. It's everything and nothing.

She thinks, she thinks she loves her family. Thinks she loves them. She hasn't told them how much she loves them. She should tell them. You know, she was really stupid to not let them know. She should really do that. Do that now. Tell them, tell them that family game night, with the God Father's audio reaching beyond the open mesh door, those were the best of times. Better than any college party or drug fuelled stinted trip she ever took. The sound of Soprano's gang traveling down the short paced path, cobble stones Dad had put in, but watch out for the second last left one, it wobbles. Sarah twisted her ankle on it when she was twelve, god, that had fucking hurt. Foot all swollen, blue and bruised. It was gross, like seriously grotesque. Mom being a nurse and all though, that helped. Whenever Sarah was sick, those were the warm, embracing hands she called out for. Sweeping along her fevered forehead, tucking in her favourite stuffed teddy.

What was she saying?

Game night, thats right.

The autumn sky hung above, clear and illuminating even the darkest of corners. Vibrantly peddled flowers colours drowned out in the night, wilting from the impactful heated early fall breeze. Wafting their laughter to where her grandparents lived just next door. She should call them, too. Tell them how much she loves them. Adores them, actually. Really Sarah should just go visit, go back home for awhile. Reminisce back to times spent living on their little quaint cal-de-sac, humming with crickets calling, the occasional whip of bat-wings. Trott around the spacious home that would cost four times as much in the city as it does in the country.

Maybe they could play monopoly while she was there? Like the good times. The easier, peaceful times.

Dad was always the green player, Mom the purple and she the red. Thats just how it was. She loved it. Made her heart sore, made her childhood memories that much brighter, through teenage years, to even young adulthood.

Game night was always on Family Fun Fridays. Never differed. They'd cook together, dogs chasing each others tails, whipping around corners till you would inevitably find the three stretched out panting joyously on the cool kitchen tiles.