This is a one shot that I'm writing for a contest! I wrote a story from the prompt line, "He awoke to the sounds of birds," which had to be in the story. Please leave constructive criticism so I can make it better and hopefully win:)
Light flowed into the room from the large windows on the wall farthest from the only door. A boy laid in a small hospital bed, the only thing in the room other than a small love seat. The boy wore a pale blue hospital gown, which contrasted his sickly pale skin. His chest rose and fell as steady whispers of breathing came and went from the tubes up his nose. A small cough from the corner of the room disturbed his sleeping figure. The sound echoed in the plain room. The boy stirred slightly before his breathing regulated again. A small, mousy woman in her late thirties to early forties stood looking at the boy with clear expectation on her face. She stared at his young handsome face for about five minutes before the hope fell, and she looked down at her feet in the awkward silence.
The room was quiet as the sun rose higher up in the sky. As the boy continued to sleep, the woman in the corner walked over to the large window. She opened it and basked in the sunlight, her pale skin soaking up the rays. She had dark circles under her pale blue eyes and cheeks sunken into her skin. She closed her eyes. A summer breeze filled the room with the smell of warm sun and flowers. Birds were chirping in the tree outside the room.
The door to the small room opened and a tall man walked into the room. He looked startlingly like the boy sleeping on the white bed. Strong jaw, long straight nose, full lips, and hair almost the same dark shade of brown. The only difference was the man who had just walked in had gray traced through his locks and worry lines deeply etched into his face. His dark green eyes were filled with sorrow as they passed from the woman to the boy.
"Helen," he croaked. His voice sounded unused, dry, cracked. He cleared his throat. "Helen," he repeated clearly.
"What?" Helen asked harshly, not looking back at the man. "I won't do it, Tom. We have the money to keep him alive, we'll do it," she said viciously, choking back a sob. The birds continued to chirp happily outside the window.
"No," Tom said, walking up to Helen. "The doctors—" Tom started before he had to choke back a sob. Helen went over to him and hugged him, putting her frail arms around his suddenly feeble looking shoulders. "The doctors said there's no activity," Tom said, suddenly sobbing in loud wails.
Helen stopped and looked at Tom. Her mind and body had frozen. She turned to look at her son laying in the same bed he had been for the past seven months. Tom sobbed again, and her son stirred, just like he had when she coughed. Helen held her breath. She thought she'd imagined it. Chirping, the birds watched through the window before jumping off the branches. They were soon replaced.
"To—Tom," Helen gasped, pointing her sickly thin finger toward the bed.
Tom looked around to see his son stirring from the sleep that had plagued them for seven long months, though it felt more like seven years. Both Tom's and Helen's eyes went wide looking at their waking son. Tom held his breath, his sobs caught in his throat. He had hoped the doctors would be wrong, and that their son could wake up any day. His prayers were now being answered.
The boy opened his eyes, exactly like his mother's pale blue. He looked from his mother to his father before giving them a weak smile, happiness on his face. He had awoken to the sound of birds. And then he fell back into a coma, passing away from the car wreck that had killed four of his other friends those seven months ago. Though his spirit moved on, it always remembered waking to sounds of birds.