Image © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
There’s nothing quite like the smell of hospitals, disinfectant mixed with decay; hand gel mingled with hope.
‘Open your eyes,’ I whisper.
It’s been a week since we crashed. I was driving and if you don’t recover, I’ll never forgive myself.
I rest my head on your chest, lulled by the rise and fall, but then there’s stillness.
You’re by my side now. We watch the nurses flock around your lifeless body.
‘Go back!’ I beg.
‘I don’t want to live in a world without you,’ you say.
You stretch out your hand and I link my fingers through yours. Together we walk towards the light.
It’s been a busy week editing The Gift but I’ve found editing a novel a little easier this time around thanks to all the best-selling authors who contributed to my blog post on editing. I’ve tried out most of the tips these past couple of weeks. You can read the post here.
This week’s 100 word story was difficult to pull off within the word count and I do hope it makes sense. Written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 words story challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here.