Flash Fiction 4-17-20 = W/C 300
|Let Me Tell You What I Saw
“What did you see?” The doctor spoke to me in a quiet voice.
I hesitated, too overwhelmed to speak. I touched my head. It still hurt a little.
“Tell me what you saw.” He looked at me.
“I can’t describe it. It was too beautiful.”
“Well, try.” Janet held my hand.
No, to try would take away the awesomeness.
“Animal, vegetable or mineral?” The doctor was again speaking. His ideas were too base.
“You can’t put into words the awesomeness,” I said. I lay on the hospital bed, the room was dark.
“You already said that. What did you see?”
“It was out of this world. I can’t even begin to tell you about it.” My eyes were closed and I tried to remember what I saw.
“Well try. You’re the writer. You’re the wordsmith. Try.” Janet sat beside the bed. She rubbed my hand.
“I saw the sun over the meadow, I saw the moon over the bay, I saw the snow falling in the mountains, I saw dew on the grass, I saw stars in the heavens, I saw leaves on the tree outside my window. I saw a bluebird in the tree.”
“So what is so special about all of that?” The doctor dismissed my statement, his attitude immediately caused me pain.
“I could see it all. That is what’s so special. Even with the bandages on, I could see all of that.” I wanted to get out of bed. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see what I dreamed. I wanted the bandages off. I wanted my eyes to work again.
Suddenly I could feel the tight wraps coming off. Scissors cutting, unwrapping, Janet and the doctor softly murmuring. Then bright light as I opened my eyes.
“Let me tell you what I see!”