May 6, 2008
By Samantha Church, Columbus, MT

The speeding tires came to a screeching halt on the black top, but the siren did not. It kept piercing at my ears. Louder and louder…now peaceful and silent. Everything is hectic, and colorful life is rushed, passing quickly in front of my eyes. Silently. My eyelids are heavy, using all of my strength to keep them open. I get one last look at his frightened blue eyes full of giant watery tears. They’re too heavy now, and my muscles relax, it feels as if my whole body is engulfed in a blanket of black and darkness.

I think we were turning left the next time I woke up. I was inside an ambulance that shook and rocked with every bump and pothole we hit. My nurse struggled to stand still and nearly fell every time we hit a bump or turned sharply She gave me and I.V. and her lips and soft voice said everything was going to be all right, but her frantic eyes told a different story. Eventually my vision became blurred. Once again, the darkness enveloped me.

I awake again to bright white lights and the beeping noise of my heart on the computer. A hand reaches out to me. I think its my mother’s. I hear doctors’ voices yelling over and across my sprawled out and mangled body, stunned that they were talking about me I tried to lift my head but was stopped suddenly by a shot of pain up my spine. I hopelessly lie my head down upon the pillow that smelled of absolutely nothing. Again, I fade away to the sound of “Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.”

My mind wants to wake up but my body wants to stay asleep. I can smell flowers, and I can hear sobs, but all I can see is black. A bright light once again catches me off guard. An unfamiliar hand breaks through the white beam of light. And I begin to fly.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book