I went looking through some notebooks from last year, and found my old Writer's Workshop notebook. I read through it, and laughed at some of the journals in there. Man, Mr C was the coolest.
JOURNAL #2, 3/10/08 8. People lingered on their toes with complaints of "My child is sick!", and "Cant you people go any faster?!", while I sat, impatient. What lies beyond those doors is away from my grasp of imagination. It petrified me. I could hear the beeps of the heart monitor already... Beep, beep, beep. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. The cries of small children. The fake smile plastered on the face of the lady behind the desk. The smell of rust and salt hanging in the air! It was all so horrid; a nightmare come to life. Hospitals themselves were bad, but the waiting room.. It makes me shudder. The plastic lady looked up from her notes. She smiled in my direction and a chill ran down my spine. "Miss Telesco," she sang in a voice that was sickeningly sweet, "the doctors will see you now!" I gulped and walked through the doors as the hospital took yet another victim into it's grasp.
XxFragmented_RealityxX · Sun Feb 01, 2009 @ 06:09pm · 0 Comments |