We all slept well due to the fact that we had feasted with vigor the night before.
7:27. Such a familiar number, a welcoming time, and I don't know why. I awoke to a still morning of dewdrops on clover leaves. The petite bedroom was soaked in white rays of sun that pushed through the funny old lace curtains that had been there forever. I did not move.
A sudden, searing pain shot and I wailed as my hand went up to my spinning head. My hands, gloved with blood, quivered before my cloudy, bloodshot eyes.
Parents screaming soundlessly at my bed.
Brothers hanging back in the frame of the door.
Wide eyes.
Blood, so much of it more than I ever thought was in my head.
Ambulances roaring in the distance, muffled.
More and more and more.
So much
Confusion
A helicopter, I think, and unfamiliar faces.
A cold hand over my blood smeared face, mixing the tears in like a potion of chaos.
Chaos. Chaos.
Closed eyes, then nothing at all.
YOU ARE READING
If We'd All
AdventureThey say the only thing to fear is fear itself. Great. Wasn't before. Thank you very much. People complain. A lot. But those of us with imaginations find it hard to understand WHY, this, among other thing, is so. The thing we yearn for most is an ad...
