45 Minutes in a Shell

Inspired by my patient from the Psychiatric Ward during our stint in the Mental Health Unit.

Forty-five minutes

She was pale. Her black hair lay in a messy tangle of unruly curls. She tried to run her shaking fingers through them but the knotted strands were impossible to work on. She frowned, the deep lines of frustration marring her unlined, childlike face. A small whistle of frustration escaped the niche of her mouth, an evident claim of distress in her face.

 A cautious step.

The volunteer nurse saw her and stopped. The man cocked his head, black eyes giving her an inquisitive look. Her determined demeanor intrigued him. He watched her clutched the dirty old walls with trembling fingers. Her nails were cracked, dirty. He shrugged, almost in a defeated manner and walked up to her.

At the sound of his approach, the woman looked up, and in an instant, her face changed. The anxiety vanished - her cheeks flushed with a delicate shade of pink, her dark irises glittered. She smiled and her small and even teeth bared.

The man was taken aback by the sudden change. He stopped, head cocked again.

Hope.

He insisted in helping her comb her hair. The woman growled and pulled away, limbs trembling. The man reached out for her, but she adamantly refused, holding on to the limp tresses. Her pose changed, from defenseless to defensive. She stared at him, eyebrows, clustered together, wary for a fight. Her fists were rolled up and the light blue veins were visible beneath her limpid skin.

He sighed. Useless.

Again, with the tired flip of his shoulders, he strode away.

 

Thirty  minutes

               She struggled to walk. Her legs weren’t as strong as they used to be. She used to remember the time when she could stand tall, walk confident and jump high. Now, she can barely even lift her legs. Too bad, they were one of her best assets yet. She trembled from her weight.

            Ignoring the curious looks from the other patients, she maneuvered herself carefully along the hallway. Breathing heavily, she grasped the cold surface of the cold cement. No one seemed to notice her.

            A little child. He was looking at her with a disconnected interest, noticing her but not really seeing her. She laughed at that irony bitterly. Might as well finish what she started. The world was her oyster. Hesitantly, she began to toddle again.

 

Fifteen minutes

              She stepped into the elevator. Nobody was inside. She beamed to herself. Perfect. She punched the 11th floor and pressed the close button.

             Finally, the game begin.

              “Hold that elevator!”

              Instinctively, she grabbed the door. The young doctor breezed in, the freshness and exuberance of youth floating in with him. He looked at her, startled. “Oh, hello, good morning,” he said. He focused on the wrist band. “What are you doing here all alone?”

               She stuttered. She waved her arms around wildly. She could not glance up. “I just wanted some fresh air.” The physician stared at her. She cringed, wondering what her punishment would be. The last time she went out without permission, she was made to miss dinner.  But then, she’d never have to, anyway. After tonight, never again.

               To her amazement, the doctor laughed. “Everyone gets a little sick of this place, no pun intended,” he agreed. He leaned back on the corner and looked at the ceiling. “Even I do.”

               She tilted her head in confusion and he chortled again. “There’s just---just this pervading air of dread, you know? This uncanny uncertainty of life. I’ve been in the medical field long enough and yet…Lord knows how many of my closest friends and family died of my hands, of my supposedly ‘effective’ treatments. But in all honesty, there’s no safe cure to life. There’s no medicine in living life.” He paused, a glazed expression on his face. A sudden spark burst in his eyes. “Do you want to know a secret?”

               She nodded her head slowly. What harm can another secret do?

               He beckoned her closer and whispered in her ear: “In order to live, in order to experience life, you just have to choose not to die.”

 

Five minutes

              She glanced below the balcony, the early morning breeze blowing wafts of her hair along the hum of the wind.

            This.

            The smell of the ocean, the warmth of the sun, the sight of the city, the sound of the chirping birds, how much she missed them! She reveled in these long lost sensations. The tears suddenly flowed. Just this. The emotions long chained up inside came barging, relentless, spilling over.

 

One minute

            She heard the door open.  She did not peek at who entered the roof. She knew. It was over. She always said she could fly. If anyone could have made it, it was her.

 

Ten.

     Now she’s just quiescent. The sound of glass being scraped.

 

Five.

     The serenity took over. The soft murmur of the police walkie-talkies.

 

Three.

     The escape is over. The whirring clicks of the cameras.

 

One.

     Her oyster cracked.

 

Author's Note

Still a work in progress. Not very satisfied with the imagery.

Reviews

[Kyle Sky]

This is good. I like how you were able to input the mood of suspense into the readers. Also its short but decently detailed, but some details are not relevant to an attractive imagery. Nonetheless, it has good amount of details to create a picture of the scene. Also, there seems to be some sentence fragments. besides that Everything is good. Good job on this piece.

[Adam Whitworth]

great

[Persona]

I like a story that begins with intrigue and action. If you'd like a pointer I can suggest your sentence structure needs altering. "He did this." "He did that." Is how it sounds, very factual. I think their facial expression aren't as important as what they're physically doing so focus more on the overall picture rather than the small detail. Does that help?

[Hanakuso]

Yes. I appreciate the feedback. There's something very wrong with the story and you just pointed it out to me. Thank you!

[Persona]

You're very welcome Hanasuko!

[Meallea Pomorette]

There some errors in grammar but it is totally fine... The countdown helps building up the suspense so I have no hard time picturing it...

[:-)]

This had a great picture going. There were a few errors but not drastic enough that I can remember them.

I like how it sort of built up suspense with the use of minutes. It kept me waiting and wondering.

Beautiful write.

[Imagine Blade]

Only a few minor errors in grammar but no biggie.

As I read this, it slowly put pictures or scenes inside my head unconsciously.
It was easy to imagine since the setting is personally familiar.
I love how the story went smoothly because of its sequential nature. ^^

45-minutes, 30-minutes, 15-minutes.

It feels like it makes the reader stay on the fact that all these things happened at certain time interval, which we rarely see now in most famous books and writeups. I think there was nothing wrong with how you'd want to deliver the image of the story. It was easy to picture our and imagine.^^

Expecting more of this.

[Aaron]

Very powerfully written. I didn't notice anything wrong with the imagery but if you want to improve it then good for you. I spent the whole read enthralled wondering what exactly was going on.
It was definitely worth the read.

Thanks for sharing!

[Hanakuso]

I honestly think I overdid the imagery at some points. There were times when I kept repeating the same words until I ran out of synonyms. And yes, the entire plot is quite vague, I have to agree.

But still, thank yo very much. I really appreciate the input!