Epileptic Fear

June 4, 2011
By Anonymous

Bright lights flash against the darkness of the night.
Red, blue, red, blue.
It's hard to see out of the window from where I lay but I can see the lights. They're reflecting on my skin.
To my left is my Pepere. His pupils are wide. "Which one?" he forces a smile but his mouth shakes.
The man who had put the needle in my hand looks at me over his shoulder. He had already told me that it would be awhile before it would no longer be difficult to talk.
My eyes travel to the objects in my Pepere's hands.
Teddy bears.
"Which one do you like?" he repeats.
I point a weak hand at the one on the right - the larger of the two. He places it next to my arm.
The man comes to my side. "You'll start to feel sleepy..." he says.
The mask is put over my mouth.
I look back at my Pepere. The lights allow me to see an unsure smile come across his face. My eyes begin to feel heavy.
Red, blue, red, blue. Then nothing.

The author's comments:
I wrote this about my first experience with seizures when I was five years old. I tried a different approach to writing and attempted to use descriptive words to express emotions felt, rather than saying them straight out.

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