The Strange Case of Ms Driew
A Story by Blue Notebook
Part of a larger story in progress. This is all that I have typed at the moment so it may seem a bit... Strange? I don't know. Anyway, the spelling is meant to be that way for reasons I can't explain right now, but I promise you the whole story isn't like
~Hope~
Mr. and Mrs. Driew sat in the hospital waiting room watching Dr. Bryer as he walked towards them. He was looking intently at the PHM in his hand. The Driews exchanged worried glances, hoping everything was all right. Dr. Bryer continued, walking right past them, then, as if suddenly remembering something, turned and scanned the room. His eyes fell on the Driews.
“Mr. Driew, Mrs. Driew,” he greeted them, “If you’ll kome with me to my offise.”
They stood as Dr. Bryer walked through a door and hurried after him. He closed the door and motioned them to some chairs on one side of his desk. Noticing their worried expressions, he smiled reassuringly, sitting in his own chair.
“I hefe some good news,” he started, looking at both of them. “You’re going to hefe ei khild.”
“The results were positife?” Mrs. Driew asked hopefully as Mr. Driew slid to forward in his chair.
“Yes, there is no doubt, Mrs. Driew, you’re pregnant.”
The Driews sat in shocked silence a moment , then they broke out in smiles. Finally after all this time, they were going to have a baby.
After they left, Dr. Bryer looked back at the PHM, hoping the slight anomaly they found would go away before the birth. If it didn’t it could cause some major problems.
~Trouble~
Mr. and Mrs. Driew found themselves in Dr. Bryer’s office again. They had some tests done yesterday and came in to see the results. Mr. Driew glanced proudly down at Mrs. Driew’s growing stomach. The child was due in one month and he couldn’t wait. Mrs. Driew was also looking down at her growing stomach, but she was thinking different thoughts. She had seen the concern growing on the doctor’s face every time they came in. She could feel that something wasn’t quiet right, but couldn’t begin to imagine what.
Dr. Bryer opened his office door, dreading this meeting. He pitied these young parents, the father so full of hope, his wife just beginning to sense the problem. How could he tell them their child may not live?
Mrs. Driew looked up when the door opened, but was not reassured by what she saw. The doctor looked tired, and she could tell he had bad news. She looked at her husband, praying for his sake she was wrong. This child meant so much to him. He too was looking at the doctor, but he seemed totally oblivious to the trouble in his eyes.
The doctor sat in his chair, his hands clasped together on the top of his desk. He was silent a moment, staring at the creases on his palms. Mr. Driew knew, then, his fears were correct. He kept a hopeful face, but he was worried about his wife. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, knowing nothing he could do would numb her pain.
Dr. Bryer looked up from his desk and studied the Driews. He hated this part of his job, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Mr. end Mrs. Driew,” he began, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to hefe to tell you this, but...” he took a deep breath. “There ieppears to be ei komplikeition.”
“Whiet type of komplikeition?” Mrs. Driew cautiously asked.
“Well, it seems thet your khild isn’t defeloping like it should.” He lifted his hand to keep Mrs. Driew from interrupting. “It meiy be nothing serious, but there is a khanse it kould be feitel.” He saw the tears beginig to form and hurried to try and give them some hope. “The truth is, we don’t know whiet it is, we hefe nefer seen enything quite like it. We’fe been wietkhing it klosely end beliefe it meiy yet simply resolfe itself. It’s just ei smiell melformeition, end other then thet your khild is perfektly helthy.
I wouldn’t worry too mukh just yet.” He handed a box of tissue to Mrs. Driew as he finished talking.
Mr. Driew put a comforting arm around his wife and asked the question that had been growing on his mind.
“Whiet kieused this?”
“We ieren’t entirely sure, but…” he stopped, unsure if he should go on.
“But…? You do hefe some ideie, don’t you?”
He sighed before answering. “...It meiy hefe something to do with the ITs, the Dierk Pools. Sientists hed been konserned they might hefe some edferse effekts, but they nefer dremt it would be this.”
“The Dierk Pools.” Mr. Driew echoed. Could he actually be responsible for this?
~Birth~
Mr. Driew paced outside the delivery room, kicked out for getting in the doctors’ way. He looked up hopefully everytime someone walked through the door, only to be disappointed. It shouldn’t be teiking this long. he thought. He was worried for his wife and his child, beginning to think neither one would survive. He had never been so frightened in his life. He could hear his wife and longed to be at her side, but he knew the best thing he could do right now was stay out of the way. He continued to pace.
Dr. Bryer was in charge of the delivery room. He too was beginning to worry, this was taking longer than it should. The mother was nearly exhausted and if they didn't get this baby out soon, they could loose them both. He motioned to the nurse to bring the father back in, hoping this time he would stay in one spot.
Mrs. Driew was worn out. Her husband was beside her, holding her hand. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could endure. She was relieved it was almost over.
Mr. Driew was holding his wife’s hand tightly. It was over. A nurse was holding the baby, but it wasn’t crying. He felt his stomach turn over. Is it ded? he wondered. He prayed it wasn’t.
Whiet is wrong with my beiby? Mrs Driew wondered, Why isn’t it krying? She tried to sit up to look, but she was too weak. Pleese, don’t let it be ded! Everyone was moving around the room, but no one stopped to explain what was happening. One of the nurses left, carrying something.
“Whiet’s going on? I wient to see my beiby!” Mrs. Driew cried, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s going to be ielright, Mrs. Driew, your beiby girl is ielife, but she’s fery sik. We’re going to try end meike her better.” Dr. Bryer tried to reassure her.
~Coma~
Mrs Driew was in her room, resting. Her husband was still with her. Dr. Bryer walked down the hall. He wasn’t sure if he brought good or bad news. He tapped lightly on the door before going in. Seeing them now, tired and worried half to death, he found it difficult to remember how they were months ago, when he first told them they were going to have a child.
“How do you feel, Mrs. Driew?” he asked.
“How is my dieughter?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“Thet’s whiet I keime to see you about. She ieppears to be in a self-indused komie. Ei hundred yeers ego, I would hefe been worried if she steiyed thet weiy too long, but with todeiy’s fesilities, it might be best to let her steiy in her komie es long es possible. We beliefe this is her body’s way of heeling itself.”
Mrs. Driew laid back in her bed, tears in her eyes. Her husband’s head rested in his hands. Dr. Bryer left the room, closing the door behind him.
© 2008 Blue Notebook
Author's Note
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If the strange spelling makes it too difficult to read, please tell me. I may be willing to change it.
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Reviews
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Interesting beginning, I look forward to reading more. It seems a very quaint and interesting story, and it certainly does drag the readers in. Its got a nice, fast pace to it, too. My only problem is that there is a lot of repetition:
Mr. Driew glanced proudly down at Mrs. Driew's growing stomach. The child was due in one month and he couldn't wait. Mrs. Driew was also looking down at her growing stomach, but she was thinking different thoughts.
In addition, a few parts need tightening up a bit, but, with a little bit of work, you will have a good start to a story. The dialogue does seem curious, though- are you sounding the words out phonetically? Oh well. I guess we'll find out!
Posted 16 Years Ago
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Added on June 10, 2008
Last Updated on June 10, 2008
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Blue NotebookItsalen, Miehed
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Reader, meet writer: I am a notebook, or a journal, and I am blue. This much you could have learned by my name, so I suppose I had better describe myself better. There is nothing very unusual about my.. more..
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