Every day when you first wake up, you become a different person. It only lasts for the smallest amount of time, but in it, the possibilities are endless. As always, however, we eventually remember who we are, the people around us, what we’ve been through, and what we’ve done. In that moment, our hearts sink just a little. Even when we are reminded how good everything is, it still cannot compare to that single moment of infinity.
That sudden instant of limitations has hit no one harder than when Aaron Fletcher woke up in a hospital bed. For everything he had spent a lifetime trying to forget ripped its way back into his memory like an unstoppable wave.
Along with it he remembered what landed him in the hospital. His eyes focused in on the stale white room. His eyes eventually rested on the man seated next to him. He was tall. Aaron could tell even when he was sitting down. He wore his tar black hair short and neatly cut. His eyes suggested that he found the floor very interesting, only taking them off it to check his watch and momentarily stare at his ring while he moved it from side to side on his right ring finger. Then, after a long while, the man’s eyes met Aaron’s.
“Ah, you’re awake.” He looked away for a second, while he called the nurse into the room. “Do you remember what happened? The doctor said to my dad that you might not. Apparently when you were knocked down, your head hit the ground a little hard.”
“You have a slight concussion. Do you remember the incident, sir?” The nurse interjected.
Aaron bit down on the tip of his tongue, and balled his right hand into a fist underneath the sheets. He remembered what happened just fine. The problem was that someone else might know what happened too. If that were true, Aaron wou...
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... of his surroundings, but listening was all he had. He couldn’t smell anything other than that sickly hospital scent. So Aaron lay there, listening as footsteps shuffled up and down the halls.
For a brief period of time, he thought there was another person in the room along with him and the elderly man in the next bed. But the person had already left when he carefully lifted one eye open for a careful peak. Perhaps it was another nurse, or a doctor coming take a quick look at patients. Perhaps it was someone else watching him to make sure he was asleep, and then was scared off when he twitched or something.
Whatever it was, nothing happened after that. All Aaron heard was the common, nonstop shuffling of feet up and down the hallways, and all he could sniff out was the almost nauseating hospital smell. And before Aaron knew it, he had actually drifted off to sleep.
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
cannot hear the man’s heart beating loudly. He describes the fear of the old man in bed after
...ed the narrator have they seen Al because his bike was on the ground. The narrator was speechless and is thinking to himself “I wanted to get out of the car and retch, I wanted to go home to my parents’ house and crawl into bed” (par. 33). Also when the lady asked them if they wanted to take some drugs and party, the narrator just looked at her and said “I thought I was going to cry” (par. 35). Before these events, the narrator would have partied with the girls but now after going through these experiences, he realized he isn’t bad as he thought himself to be.
The next morning he got up to make a cup of coffee. Ben was getting ready to go out to get the paper when he heard the same CRASH but it was not in the bedroom this time it was in the same room he was in. Ben was not very sure what it was or what it wants but it was very scary.
The poem His stillness by Sharon Olds gave her a definite understanding of the man that she called “father.” Olds grew up in an abusive family home because her dad was always known as an alcoholic. Because of her dad’s habit, created hard living environments for her and she wished that her parents never got married. Whenever liquor was in her dad’s system, he was unemotional making life for Olds hard. She never described the things that he did to her. The visit to the doctor’s office made her opened up to her dad. She saw her dad as lovely and caring family man and she never imagine him being the man that he was at the doctor’s office. He did not overreacted when he heard news; instead he was calm and accepted the news. She felt tremendously sad for her dad and from there now she started noticing the man she never knew. Olds and her dad bond grew stronger at the doctor’s office. The man she had always known for his abusive behavior turned out the most caring man in the world.
Q1: What does the prologue and the Epilogue indicate about the status of Mesopotamian rulers? IT was to role of the rulers to protect their people. They were responsible for creating and upholding laws for the well being of the population
“The room was silent. His heart pounded the way it had on their first night together, the way it still did when he woke at a noise in the darkness and waited to hear it again - the sound of someone moving through the house, a stranger.”(4)
She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house appeared to be trying to make up his mind to enter. This passage gave me a feeling of eariness for me. All i can think of is in the movies how the doctor paces back and forth when he sometimes doesn't know how to bring bad news to the family.So by then i knew ahead of time that it had to be bad news due to the stranger having a hard time approaching the home.
With both hands resting lightly on the table to each side of his white foam cup, Otis stared into its deep abyss of emptiness with his head bowed as if willing it to fill again, giving him a reason to enjoy the shelter that the indoors provided. I could almost touch the conflict going on inside of him, a battle of wills as if he was negotiating with an imaginary devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I sensed a cramp of discomfort seizing his insides, compelling him to flee, then a silent resolve, as if a moment of clarity had graced his consciousness.
In a panic, she called emergency services, and Dr. Alexander was rushed to the hospital. After several tests, medicines, and scans, he was still not doing well and was actually falling deeper and deeper into a coma. He had less than 10% of his brain function left, and everyone was finally addressing the fear that they were going to lose him. While lying there unresponsive and barely alive on that bed, Dr. Alexander was experiencing something completely
Nothing. Nobody was around. I paced to and fro around my father’s office, biting my fingers in anticipation and concern. For hours, I muttered to myself in attempts to soothe the billions of worries that were floating around inside of my
Travers wandered around the room his shabby clothing (that was three sizes too big for him) was falling off his shoulder more and more with every step that he took. His crumpled up shirt with holes in was far from decent and his trousers that were once grey were black with filth. Travers was not a handsome man and had many distorting features: his ragged black hair filled with knots covered his pale forehead; his blue eyes had gone many weeks ago and in their place were red bloodshot ones; the bags under his eyes were those of an elderly woman. Sweat poured down his face and it was nothing to do with the heat of the room. Travers wiped his brow and slowly trod around the room. “He’s coming,” he thought. Shaking, Travers sat down onto the ancient settee. His fingers, which were extremely pale, could not stop shaking. His body hunched over as if he was protecting himself from pain and harm.
Whatever mild irritation she had about losing her train of thought was instantly forgotten when she looked over to see why. The large seats offered plenty of space - at least to someone Alison's side - but the man who settled in beside her looked like he could barely be contained, and his rugged appearance at once prompted her angular, dark brows to shoot up in curiosity. She found herself drawn to his mouth as he spoke, then she batted her thick lashes and looked up to his eyes as they showed an endless delight when he motioned to the
While we were on our way over to the hospital we had bloodcurdling, as soon as we got there, we were terrified, but we wanted to explore the hospital. We enter thru a window that was open, at first we didn’t hear anything or see anything Armando said “there is nothing here all the stories are fake” a couple of minutes later we heard a loud ghastly noise. It sounded like the noise was getting closer, then the light started to flicker it was horrifying. Armando still didn’t believe that the
When 12 years old came around, nothing could’ve primed me for the amount of devastation that was to submerge my happy little world. Two months after my birthday, I received word that my renowned and dearly loved, Uncle Dean, had been killed in an unfortunate automobile accident. Crushed, yet filled with a strange numbness, I became withdrawn and dwindled in disbelief. “How could this be?” I would repeat those words of this question over and over to myself, as if it were some magical mantra that could resurrect my deceased best ally. I began taking in the gravity of what this all meant: no more “piggy-back” rides, no more wrestling matches, no more late-night video game contests, ultimately no more fun with Uncle Dean, ever. I never got a opportunity to say good-bye.