|A Funny Old Day
Author: LucyWestmacott PM
This is the first piece i ever wrote! Not literally obviously but in a story sense. This describes the death of one of my characters, but not how you would expect...Rated: Fiction K - English - Spiritual/Supernatural - Words: 464 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 12-07-12 - id: 3080831
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It is New Years Eve, snow is thick outside, the windows are frosty and everything seems right in the world. Across the road is the general hospital and through the window you can see a man and a woman sitting by a bed. The woman is crying uncontrollably as the man tries to comfort her. A boy of about thirteen is sat on the end of the bed holding the hand of a girl. The girl is lying on the bed, her face pale, her eyes closed and she is not moving. She is dressed in a white nightgown; a necklace with a gold heart shaped pendant hung around her neck. Her hair is blonde, almost white and it lay down to her waist.
It was a weird sight looking at your own body, lying still and lifeless on the bed. My mother had stopped crying now and was sat staring at the floor, her eyes surrounded by red circles staring into the distance, her face pale, stands of her hair had escaped out of its usually neat bun..she rose to her feet to leave but as she did her legs gave way and she slid to the floor, she stayed as she had fell- leaning against the wall, quietly my father hooked his arms under her shoulders and lifted her to her feet and guided her out of the room. I am sure that she looked me right in the eye, just for a second before letting herself be guided out of the room. My brother got up from the bed, let go of the hand he had held so tightly and walked out the room. That was the day I lost my battle with pneumonia. That was in 1777.
So there I was alone as I watched my family grow up, expand and die. I watched my brother find his first sweetheart, get married and become a father. I watched him raise a family, grow old and die. He blamed himself for my death- if he hadn't fallen over and ripped his coat then I wouldn't have given him mine and braved the cold with barely any protection. I was there the day he passed away (he was 83 years old). He couldn't see or hear me but it made me feel better knowing that I had watched over him until the very end .I watched the hospital getting demolished and be replaced by a block of flats. That is how I found a place to stay, right at the top out of harm's way. Flat 71A. A couple of appearances now and again to keep the residents away and my life was sorted .This is how I live my life. This is how I met Raven.