The Dormancy Diaries, Chapter 2: Diverse Monotony

Chapter 2: Diverse Monotony

Attempting to explain my state of injury and confusion proved very humbling for me. However, my state of complete dependence and apprehension grew more aggravating by the minute.
The doctors seemed not as interested with my well-being as much as they were the excitement my peculiar case brought to their small-town lives. I disrupted their monotony. For a moment, the perfectly healthy pregnant women, and children who broke their arms while swinging on their tire swings in the backyard, were put on the back burner. My case was different. It challenged them, and they were more than ecstatic to watch my every move and gossip with each other about how strange my predicament was.
Word spread so quickly in the community that by the time my visit was nearly over, three complete strangers sat outside my room hoping to identify me.
“So you think you might have hit your head?
Doctor Hastings asked with the jolliest grin on her face.
“I don’t know! I don’t remember anything --we’ve covered this.”
Pacifying the need to scream in frustration, I shifted my attention to the strangers outside my room. “What are those people waiting for?”
“They’re just waiting to come on in and see if they recognize you… and, ah, if they do, we’ll go from there! Okay?!”
“It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” I snobbishly thought to myself while slumping back on the inclined medical table.
As Dr. Hastings quickly pulled the door open and called for the Joneses, apprehension and intimidation consumed my mind. What if they knew me? Will they recognize me? What if they didn’t? Will I recognize them?
“Mister, ah… I’m sorry. This is Mr. and Mrs. Joneses. Their son went missing a few days ago, and we thought we’d bring them in for identification.” Dr. Hastings robotically initiated, while watching from her swivel chair, tucked neatly in the corner, completely absorbing the drama of the whole situation, as if she were the star of a hit reality show.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Jones replied as she struggled to hold back tears. “He’s not our son.” Mr. Jones finished, as he let go of any hope previously acquired.
“This is going to be pointless. I can see that now.” I thought to myself. I felt as though I was a circus act, there only to amuse the people inhabiting this quiet place, whose climax of excitement consisted of walking their dogs through the foggy, rundown city park of Sandalwood, North Carolina.
Savoring every ounce of this awkward ordeal, Dr. Hastings slowly escorted the Joneses from the room, and brought in the next and last stranger. “This is Miss Daniela Grayson; a good friend of hers has been missing since Saturday night.”
“I don’t need a play-by-play, thank you” I jabbed, quickly regretting the [arrogant tone in my voice?], which seemed to go completely unnoticed.
As Daniella entered the room, the most unexplainable feeling rushed over me. I found myself staring into the eyes of a complete stranger and feeling an odd sense of familiarity. Yet, when I zoomed back into reality, she was just another outsider.
More puzzling though, was her oddly reserved demeanor. She tenderly peeked into the room, gazing at me as if she expected me to recognize her. For several awkward moments, not a single word was spoken. Dr. Hastings watched intently from her seat, where she tightly clinched onto her clipboard. Daniella gingerly swayed into the room, and I sat awkwardly, feeling completely helpless in the entire situation.
The rest of my night, and possibly my life, depended on whether or not this random girl recognized me. She couldn’t have been much older than 17. She had long, curly, light brown hair which fell to her mid back, elegantly pushed back with a gold colored headpiece. Very modestly, she wore an over-sized blouse and dark wash skinny jeans, which lay perfectly on the tips of her bright pink ballet flats. She carried an essence of peace with her, as if it was her sole purpose in life.
However, none of this was important in the moment, I suddenly realized, as the silence was suddenly broken. She began to sympathetically say, “I’m sorry, you don’t look familiar”
My brief moment of disappointment was quickly rationalized, because I knew she was lying. Perhaps she had just seen me around town, or heard of me through her friends, but somehow, and for some reason, she was lying. I was almost certain of it.
Soon, it was no longer important, because she left just as quickly as she came. The rest of my afternoon was spent answering repetitive questions, and taking pictures so the local news could broadcast my story. Doctors came in and doctors left, none of which had a definite answer for me. The consensus seemed to be that I was perfectly healthy and could leave the hospital first thing in the morning, yet something inside me felt a peculiar sense of dishonesty.

Author's Note

Please be honest, I need your opinions! :)


Note: Occasionally you may see a "___". It simply means that I couldn't quite find the right words for that sentence, and plan to in the future. This is just a rough draft, so if you have any ideas for those blanks, please (PLEASE!) let me know! :) Thanks!

Reviews

[:-)]

Yet another great chapter. Reading this is almost like watching a mental movie. I tend to create a model of a character in my mind while reading, and this was awesome in the description department.

I found myself cracking a smile at the narrator's arrogant-sounding jabs. He's exactly the kind of character I really like.

This was written so that you give information about the characters bit by bit (at least that's how I perceive it), not too little nor too much. I love the way this keeps me guessing. Is Daniella a past lover, old friend... or possibly the enemy?

I'm pretty sure you already know the grammar isn't perfect, so from no on, I'll refrain from pointing that out.

Tl;dr? Epic.

[Kaybrie93]

Wow, thank you so much! That's encouraging to hear... My goal was to be very descriptive and create a mental imagine in the mind of the reader, I wanted you to be able to connect with and relate to the character, and it seems I've achieved my goal! :)

PS: I'd be more than happy to fix any and all grammer errors if you'd point them out to me :)

[:-)]

Attempting to explain my state of injury and confusion proved very humbling for me. However, my state of complete dependence and apprehension grew more aggravating by the minute.
The doctors seemed not as interested with my well-being as much as they were the excitement my peculiar case brought to their [small-town] lives. I [disrupted] their monotony. For a moment, the perfectly healthy pregnant women, and children who broke their arms while swinging on their tire swings in the backyard, were put on the back burner. My case was different. It challenged them, and they were more than ecstatic to watch my every move and gossip with each other about how strange my predicament was.
Word spread so quickly in this [small town was already use, possibly use another term here?] that by the time my visit was nearly over, three complete strangers sat outside my room hoping to [I would use identify here, but that's just me] me.
“So you think you might have hit your head?
Doctor Hastings asked with the jolliest grin on her face.
“I don’t know! I don’t remember anything[--we’ve covered this.”]
Pacifying the need to scream [in?] frustration, I shifted [my] attention to the strangers outside my room. “What are those people waiting for?”
“They’re just waiting to come on in and see if they recognize you… and[,] ah, if they do, we’ll go from there! Okay?!”
“It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” I snobbishly thought to myself while slumping back on the inclined medical table.
As Dr. Hastings quickly pulled the door open and called for the Joneses, apprehension and intimidation consumed my mind. What if they knew me? Will they recognize me? What if they didn’t? Will I recognize them?
“[Mister], ah… I’m sorry. This is Mr. and Mrs. Joneses. Their son went missing a few days ago, and we thought we’d bring them in for identification.” Dr. Hastings robotically initiated, while watching from her swivel [chair sounds better, but it doesn't really matter], tucked neatly in the corner, [semi colon doesn't work here...] completely absorbing the drama of the whole situation, as if she were the star of a hit reality show.
“I’m sorry[,]” Mrs. Jones replied as she struggled to hold back tears. “He’s not our son.” Mr. Jones [I recommend you use "finished" or something here], as he let go of any hope previously acquired.
“This is going to be pointless. I can see that now[.]” I thought to myself. I felt as though I was a circus act, there only to amuse the [people inhabiting this quiet place], whose climax of excitement consisted of walking their dogs through the foggy, rundown city park of Sandalwood, North Carolina.
Savoring every [ounce of this awkward ordeal?], Dr. Hastings slowly escorted the Joneses from the room, and brought in the next and last stranger. “This is Miss Daniela Grayson; a good friend of hers has been missing since Saturday night[.]”
“I don’t need a play-by-play, thank you” I jabbed[,] quickly regretting the [arrogant tone in my voice?], which seemed to go completely unnoticed.
As Daniella entered the room, the most unexplainable feeling rushed over me. I found myself [staring] into the eyes of a complete stranger and feeling an odd sense of familiarity. Yet, when I zoomed back into reality, she was just another [use a different word here, possibly?].
More puzzling though, was her oddly reserved demeanor. She tenderly peeked into the room, gazing at me as if she expected me to recognize her. For several awkward moments, not a single word was spoken. Dr. Hastings watched intently from her seat, where she tightly clinched onto her clipboard. Daniella gingerly swayed into the room, and I sat awkwardly, feeling completely helpless in the entire situation.
The rest of my night, and possibly my life, depended on whether or not this random girl recognized me. She couldn’t have been much older than 17. She had long, curly, light brown hair which fell to her mid back[,] [remove some things] elegantly pushed back with a gold colored headpiece. Very modestly, she wore an over[-]sized blouse and dark wash skinny jeans, which lay perfectly on the tips of her bright pink ballet flats. She carried an essence of peace with her, as if it was her sole purpose in life.
However, none of this was important in the moment, I suddenly realized[,] as the silence was [suddenly?] broken. She began to sympathetically [say,] “I’m sorry, you don’t look familiar”
My brief moment of disappointment was quickly rationalized, because I knew she was lying. Perhaps she had just seen me around town, or heard of me through her friends, but somehow, and for some reason, she was lying. I was almost certain of it.
Soon, it was no longer important, because she left just as quickly as she came. The rest of my afternoon was spent answering repetitive questions, and taking pictures so the local news could broadcast my story. Doctors came in and doctors left, none of which had a definite answer for me. The consensus seemed to be that I was perfectly healthy and could leave the hospital first thing in the morning, yet something inside me felt a peculiar sense of dishonesty.

You can just basically ignore this if you'd like, because this is just how I would phrase things.

[Kaybrie93]

Wow, that must have taken a long time! Thank you so much! You're like my electronic editor ;) I'll definitely make the changes :)

[:-)]

Well.. I'm really happy I could help, haha!