Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2165402
Rated: E · Sample · Writing · #2165402
This is the opening of one my short stories. It's my first upload so I hope you enjoy.
Our Elusive Pasts
Chapter One

Beep, beep, beep, beep came the noise, loud and clear and even one after the other the beeps resonated. He listened lying with his eyes closed and something close to a contented smile on his long dormant face. But now things had changed, now he could hear the beeps, he felt as if this strange sound, so certain and regular coincided with something within his own body. It was in fact, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Slowly he opened his eyes.
He looked around, his eyes glancing over his surroundings and very slowly began to realise what it was he was looking at. A white room with a curtain to his right and a plain wall with a small window to his left. Out of the window he could see the tall concrete masses which made up what could only be New York City. He tried to sit up and the beep which had continued uniformly began to quicken ever so slightly. He wore a clear plastic mask which covered the lower part of his face and white clothes which blended in with the white of his bed linen, there was a monitor to the left of his bed, which he decided was the source of the beeping. It was all coming together nicely, he was in hospital in New York, his home and he was there because… why he was there he wasn't sure, he could not remember and when he tried to bring the memory back the beeping sped up and his temples ached and he was forced to stop.

“Ah Mr Wright, you are awake” he raised his head of the bed searching for the source of the voice, the curtain to his right parted and in walked someone who was clearly labelled via the stethoscope around her neck and her white smock as a doctor, followed by a sheepish looking girl with her long hair tied back into a pony tail, who must have been a nurse. The doctor walked to the bottom of his profoundly white hospital bed and checked the chart that had been hanging from it. “Yes”, she said nodding as she read, before looking up and beaming at him through her rectangular spectacles. She was young, just graduated, he suspected and enjoyed nothing more than making her patients feel at home. “You are very lucky to be alive Mr Wright, we get very few people in here who survive being struck by a subway without a single broken bone, indeed your head appears to have been the only body part affected, judging by your comatose state.” She grinned at him as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard, the other girl skulked in the corner “how are you?” the doctor asked with real concern showing on her face. Mr Wright began to panic, something was wrong here. He knew very well what a subway was but as for being hit by one this did not compute, nor did he have any recollection of such an event or any event involving a subway, New York or the name Mr Wright ( however all these seemed to be integral to his makeup) nor in fact did he have any recollection of any event at all.
“Fine.” He managed at last, surprised that he had the ability to speak. The doctor looked at him concernedly. “Do you remember anything of the event?” She said. He thought. What was the right answer? To lie and have the possibility of leaving the hospital and all these damned questions quickly? He had begun to connect the word “hospital” with the word “expensive” . Or to tell the truth and receive all the help he could get? He began, once again to panic. His head ached and the blood pounded in his ears as the beeping noise hit top speed. Eventually, without consciously realising it, he picked option C. He stood up, still attached to the monitor via a patch on his arm and the mask.
“ I wouldn't advise that Mr Wright” The doctor said, bounding towards him. Slowly, calmly Mr Wright tore off his monitor, ripped off his oxygen mask and detached the doctor’s fingers from his arm one by one. He strode over to the window, pulled it open and leapt out.

© Copyright 2018 S.B enage (sambwalsh at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2165402