Seventeen Fiction Contest -- A Good Day

I'm starting to open up more about my mom's death and the time surrounding it. Sort of as a way to help me heal, I wrote this and entered it in Seventeen magazine's 2010 fiction contest. It's not really fiction fiction, more like a personal narrative, but w/e. They don't need to know XD. It's sort of a composite of a day visiting my mom in the hospital while she was sick. It took me forever to get it under 500 words lol.




The hallway was silent. The acrid smell of bleach clung to every surface of the long, white corridor. I looked up as we passed the semicircular desk; the attending nurse recognized us with a close-lipped smile and a nod. We continued down the hallway, stopping at a wide oak door, identical to the fifty other wide oak doors that dotted the plain white walls save for the shiny metal 620 nailed to it. My oldest sister reached out and turned the knob, pulling back the heavy door. The room was dim, with only traces of sunlight daring to pass through the window on the far end of the room. The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor greeted us and we walked in, quietly, cautiously, fearfully. The woman lying on the hospital bed was asleep. We could see the veins in her eyelids, crisscrossing them like rivers. Her mouth was obscured by the oxygen mask. Her chest rose and fell slowly and shallowly; with every drop the pit of my stomach told me it wouldn’t rise again. One of my sisters took a seat in the chair at the far corner of the room, while the other took a seat on the tile floor.I looked at the white board on the wall opposite the bed. Doctors and nurses had scribbled notes to each other there in their cryptic language of numbers and abbreviations. I stepped into the small bathroom and shut the door. My sisters and I were the only ones who used it; the woman had a catheter. The bathroom smelled like bleach and stale urine. A yellow plastic bedpan sat on the floor next to the toilet. I turned the knob on the faucet and it coughed out lukewarm water. I washed my hands and left. The woman in bed had woken up and was holding my sister’s hand in her own pale, shaking one. I walked over and knelt by the bedside. “Hi mom, ” I said, touching her arm. The skin was loose, thin and papery. She couldn’t talk anymore, but she looked at me. Her piercing blue eyes housed a spectrum of emotions; a top layer of happiness, with another, deeper layer of pain, sadness, guilt. A few delicate wisps of red hair still clung to her bare scalp. The four of us, mother and daughters, sat like this for what could have seconds, hours, weeks, years. Time didn’t register in my mind; there was nothing but us, three teenagers kneeling by a dying woman’s bedside. We left when a nurse bustled into the room. My sisters and I smiled and nodded at her as we let ourselves out. Leaving the hospital was like stepping into another world; the sun was bright overhead, the pink and red spring blossoms popped against their deep green backgrounds. My oldest sister sighed. “Today was a good day for her.” She said, turning to face us, gage our reactions. We both nodded. “Yeah, ” I said, “it was a really good day.”
Like
0
Report Abuse
sarita15
that was just absolutely amazing!
and im sure you held back because of the limit on words too.


the structure and the subject(although it was real) was just fantasic
it really draws you in and you feel like you're right there beside you

i hope you keep writing and i hope you keep up the great work ^_^


P.S. im so sorry for loss
you're obviously a very strong person and it's a good thing that you are beginning to be more open about your mother


i hope to see more posts by you :D
Like
0
Report Abuse
fourfourtyfour