Fear and Loathing I hadn't even realized that I'd fallen asleep until my eyes fluttered open. The smell of sickness and death refilled my nostrils. To think I'd almost gotten used to it... My legs were numb from sitting down in this cramped space. This wasn't meant for people, this was meant for cattle. My eyes must have been permanently adjusted to the darkness by now, and they searched around for my sick grandmother. “Babcia?” I called out in my native language. I felt her brittle hand close around mine as a sign she was still there. My grandfather was next to me, so I didn't have to worry about him. Even though it wasn't, it felt so long since I ran the family shop with my grandparents... before it all happened. “Feliks?” My grandmother called out from the front of the shop. “Yes, Babcia?” I replied, sorting different …show more content…
“Babcia!” I yelled, and panic rose on my grandfather's face. My grandmother just sent me a smile – I assumed she was too sick and confused to realize what was going on. Before I knew it, my grandfather was separated from me as well. He was with other elderly and sick men, and they were being herded towards a corridor on the left, like sheep. I was too shocked and confused to comprehend what was going on. I felt as if I was in a tunnel, slowly reaching the light at the end of it. I wanted to cry, sleep, run, and vomit all together. I was scared. I only realized I wasn't in some twisted nightmare when I could feel the stinging of a number being tattooed into my inner arm, and it seemed like the next minute I was watching my brown hair fall onto the floor in locks. I felt myself being forced through a shower, if I could even call it that. The water felt as cold as ice, and the smell of death still clung to me. Everyone was given worn out blue and some form of white pajamas. They made me miss my old clothes, even if they had the Star of David embedded on
Lisa Genova’s grandmother, who was 85 years old, had been showing signs of dementia for years; but she was a smart and independent woman who never complained, and she navigated around her symptoms. Her nine children and their spouses, as well as her grandchildren, passed off her mistakes to normal aging. Then they got the phone call when Lisa’s grandmot...
It had been reported that, “Numerous people have told of hearing their doctors or other spectators in effect pronounce them dead” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 17). This is an out of body experience. Each reported feelings of peace and quiet, which transitioned into a bad buzzing noise. After proceeding through a tunnel, they have an “encounter with a very bright light” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 51). Questions resound around a reflection of their life, what they had learned during it, and if it was worth it. Invariably, each of the subjects’ encounter a border at which they are told they need to go back. “Considering the skepticism and lack of understanding that greet the attempt of a person to discuss his near-death experience, it is not surprising that almost everyone in this situation comes to feel that he is unique, that no one else has ever undergone what he has” (Moody Jr, MD, 2015, p. 83). Naturally, the outcome of this experience has an effect on the lives of those experiencing it.
When I was ten, my parents hosted Thanksgiving dinner at our home. Toward the end of the evening, my grandmother asked my grandfather if he wanted to go for a walk. “No,” he said. “I have the abbiocco.” My grandmother smiled. I asked my grandfather what that meant--he wouldn’t tell me. My grandmother explained, “The abbiocco is the
My grandmother has a certain look in her eyes when something is troubling her: she stares off in a random direction with a wistful, slightly bemused expression on her face, as if she sees something the rest of us can’t see, knows something that we don’t know. It is in these moments, and these moments alone, that she seems distant from us, like a quiet observer watching from afar, her body present but her mind and heart in a place only she can visit. She never says it, but I know, and deep inside, I think they do as well. She wants to be a part of our world. She wants us to be a part of hers. But we don’t belong. Not anymore. Not my brothers—I don’t think they ever did. Maybe I did—once, a long time ago, but I can’t remember anymore. I love my grandmother. She knows that. I know she does, even if I’m never able to convey it adequately to her in words.
The desert sun beats down on her as she runs. She has never had to run like this in her life. She is fast, but they are faster, and it’s only moments until they realize she is gone.
Nostalgia. That’s what I’d felt, it was like an overwhelming wave of worry and happiness holding me back and not letting go, and it was. I’d also felt pain, but that was probably from the broken arm. It had been five years since I’d seen V and here we were again, both in the hospital, of our own accord. Again. My heart pumped, and I couldn’t sit still. We’d fought, literally all the time, on purpose. It’s not like we hated each other or anything. It was just our way of having fun. This is a weird way of fun. Said everyone but us.
“Please! Don’t do this!” the girl screamed. She held her arms up in defense against the malevolent figure with a crown of thorns placed on its head and a blood-stained, white trench coat that enclosed her body.
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
My grandfather’s death brought a whirlwind of questions. Why had a simple staph infection turned into a state of delirium? What happened? Why don't the doctors know what’s wrong? And I wasn’t the only one with questions. Nana didn’t know what or who to blame. She didn't even know the name of the disease that killed him — so she blamed whatever she could, whoever she could. Most convenient for her: my mom and me. We were not present for Papa’s actual death. We said our goodbyes the week before when it became apparent that he wouldn’t be
I take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. How bad could it be? 4 people fall from the sky... What could happen?
The Story begins on a beach with three young children playing. Violet, 14, inventor; Klaus, 12, amateur researcher; and Sunny, baby, professional biter who has not totally developed speech. When they arrive to the beach it is a cloudy foggy overcast day. Violet is spending her time here skipping rocks, Klaus is studying tide pools and Sunny is just enjoying her time being at the beach with her older siblings. Even though it is not the greatest day in the world, the children are enjoying their time spent here at their favorite place. No other people are here on beach and this gives the children a place to be alone with their imagination. While playing a gentleman is approaching, but with the fog it scares the children because they cannot see who walks beneath the fog. As the figure gets closer they start to figure out who it is. The strange figure that lurked in the fog is Mr. Poe a friend of the family. Mr. Poe comes over to the children playing and explains to the children that their parents have perished in a fire that destroyed their home. Mr. Poe explains to the children that they will have to live with his family temporarily until he can figure out a plan as to where they will go.
Outside, the Howling swept across the dark forest and slowly the deep, colorless fog suffocated the land, from great arch trees - ancient and wise, to struggling briars – hardy and wicked, till the stubborn weeds – everlasting no more. Shadows flitted just beyond sight, faintly outlined against the pale mist. Impossible shapes, a scrambling of limbs, their countless eyes, watching, watching from afar. But they were getting closer, closer, closer. There was no moon tonight.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
“Grandma?” I called, as I began to ascend the carpeted stairs. When I reached the second floor, I headed to my grandma’s room, where I saw her lying in her bed. I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed near her.
...rt. I could taste real blood leaking out of my mouth. A bolt of lightning jolted every nerve within me and an aggravating pain caused me to collapse. I was shaking and by eyes bulged out as a sharp pain forced its way through every nerve and vessel in my body. My brain was closing; I knew this was the end. My intestines felt as though they were being ripped into thin strips and blood was gushing out of me like a fountain. My ribs were being crushed into powder and a cold air entered my half open body freezing every part of me, every cell, and every drop of blood. I was iced until I suddenly froze. My eyes were still open and I could still see a little. They went. They disappeared. They ran like the wind, rushed like the waves and vanished into thin air.