He entered through the unlocked door. She was not home. The money they had put away together had given her this beautiful
house. She had created a new life. A life with someone else, not with him. It had taken some
doing, finding her. Time changes both appearance and memory. She had a new name
now, but it was definitely her. Some things never change.
They had done everything together. Even when it ended, they would
stick together. How wrong had he been. She got witness protection, access to
the money, In return, he got sixteen years.
He was back.
100 words ritten for Friday Fictioneers using the above picture as a prompt.
Putting the white coat on, over black T shirt and jeans, while the nurse read: “Mrs W. In ward 6 needs her dressings changed. The boy downstairs is still complaining of headaches. You’ve got the two kidney transplants in recovery. The interns are in the kids ward . They’ll need more babysitting than the kids will. Oh, and there’s a new one in the corner room. Came in overnight. Don’t have any details”, his mind wandered. Hopefully it will be a routine day, and he’d be done by noon.
But it was not to be a routine day at all he realised. It was in fact his last day at the hospital. Finally he’d be finished forever. He was not cut out to be a doctor. He hated the hospital. He hated the people who worked in it and he hated the work itself. He’d finally mustered the wherewithal to resign. The words of the hospital director still resonated. “Change your mind now or you’ll never come back.” But he felt liberated. He wasn’t changing his mind. And he certainly had no intention of coming back. He headed for the corner room.
He examined the man lying in the bed. Sound asleep. They must have given him a sedative. Hopefully, it will last at least another hour or two, he thought. Unusual that the patient was wearing the same sort of black T shirt and jeans as he was. They should have put him into hospital gear, but he didn’t care. He picked up the clipboard at the foot of the bed. Odd. The whole top section was blank. Admitting physician: Blank. Time of admission: Blank. Presenting symptoms: Blank. Blank. Blank Everything: Blank. He continued. Patient Name: Not blank. James Black. His name. DoB: it couldn’t be, could it.... Then, below, in neat script: “Time of death 09:33”.
The voice of the director echoed inside his head. “Change your mind now or you’ll never come back”. He looked at his watch. It was 9:32.
Written for Trifecta week forty seven using the word BLACK in the context:
I was taking the four of them; my two, and the two from across the road. They were a little unit. They did everything together. There was five years between the oldest and the youngest, but they spent most of their spare time together. Like brothers they were. They had been excited about Halloween for weeks. Jake, the youngest, didn’t quite understand. He was dressed as Robin Hood, in green tights and brown T shirt, his toy bow and arrow slung over his shoulder. He had also brought along his fluffy lion for company. Sam and Oscar both had black face paint and plastic fangs. A fake dagger protruded from a bloody wound at the side of Oscars head, while Sam had drawn stitches on his face and bare arms. Simon was in a completely different league. DEATH in person, he was a fantastic version of the grim reaper. Complete with scythe and hood, and a black cape partially covering a very realistic looking skeleton. Slightly taller than the others, there was nothing to say that underneath the costume was a thirteen year old, at that awkward boundary between childhood and adulthood. We left the house and joined the throng.
Later, I followed the boys up the stairs and through the front door. We’d had a good night. They had collected a substantial haul, and had a great time of it. Tired and exhilarated, they were eager to get home, and take stock. The three younger ones walked ahead of me, Simon lagged slightly behind. He came through the door after a few seconds, and pulled it firmly shut. He appeared much taller in his costume, and much more solid. I walked into the living room. A shiver went down my spine, as I registered four, not three boys in the room. I scanned their faces, my heart beating faster as I took a mental roll call. Definitely Jake, Oscar, Sam and Simon. From behind me, a voice cut the silence. “It’s time”
Written for Trifecta Challenge week forty six, using the word DEATH, in this context: