I woke up disoriented and with harsh fluorescent lights in my face. I closed my eyes against the sudden onslaught of senses, faintly hearing a medical drone alerting a doctor to my consciousness. Slowly and unwillingly I am pulled to my senses and I recognize the pain searing through my entire body. I open my eyes and realize I am in fact in a hospital, and panic grips my chest. If I'm in the hospital it means my team failed. We called ourselves The Resistance. Not original, but accurate. Six months ago the government began to overtake the population via their minds, and became able to control their bodies to be used for the military. With a touch of some buttons, they have an instant army they could control like pawns to do their will. Most of the country has already been chipped with these mind control devices. The people go about their normal days seemingly unaware of what lurks in their brains. But when night comes they are seen patrolling the streets and army bases, with blank, lifeless looks on their faces. …show more content…
However, seeing my current predicament, something must have gone terribly wrong. “What...happened?” I croaked to the medbot, my throat hoarse and dry. “You were found at the site of an exploded building. Your left side was badly burned and we had to remove your leg. It has been replaced by a biomechanical prosthetic device so you may one day walk again. We will shortly begin preparing you for surgery.” Came the monotone robotic reply. “Wait, but I already have the new leg, why are am I having another surgery?” I asked while flexing my new metal toes. They seem to have been hooked into my nervous system quite well, and were responding
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
Paramedics pressing with all their strength on a lifeless chest while pumping air into the patient’s lungs for any chance of a heartbeat. As they were pushing the patient into room 103 they threw me a demographic sheet. It took me a second to come back to reality after seeing the limp, bluish-white, body of a young boy. In that moment I was frozen with heartache and disbelief but I knew I had a job to get done. I ran back out to my desk, unlocked my computer, and got the boys’ information into the system.
As I walked up the short, stoned stairs attached to the side of the hospital I saw tobacco splits on the walls and I could feel the horrifying smell of the hospital outside. When I entered the door, I saw a man sleeping on the ground with his duffle bag as a pillow. As I walk down the hallway I could see rooms on each side of me. Patients were lying in metal beds with a thin mattress. There was a tiny metal table next to each patient with their medicine and water. There were two to three patients in a single room. As I approached to reception, a long line was formed with sick patients waiting to be treated. I couldn’t see what was happening in front. These people were lacking a basic necessity we all need. I asked myself what I could do to
"Call the ambulance!" My advisor immediately dialed 911 as she tried to keep me awake and breathing. My eyes were rolling in and out to the back of my head, with tears consistently falling down my growing pale face. Within the next ten minutes, my body caved in and my arms and legs turned severely numb. When the paramedics arrived, they lifted me onto the stretcher where my eyes were becoming hazy and everything I looked at was a complete blur. My heart was beating rapidly and my fingers curled outwards in a terrifying direction. While driven away, I could hear the paramedics asking me to stay awake, but my head was pounding harshly like the sound of drums and as my eyes slowly closed, a ray of white light slowly
Elementary and high schools are not preparing their students well enough to understand the writing process, which mostly affect them during the transition from high school to college. It is clear that elementary and high school students don’t fully understand the five steps of writing the limitation of sentences per a paragraph and how to gather information from different sources and give credit to the source or cited.
Paramedics squeeze my arms, staining their gloves a deep red. Doctors and nurses scream at each other as they run across the hallways wheeling me into the operating theatre. I look over to my wrists as clear fluids begin their journey into my veins. My heart is in my throat, my pulse is echoing throughout the room, my limbs are quivering, and my lungs are screaming. Nurses force plastic tubes up my nose, as jets of cold air enter my sinuses, giving me relief. Inkblots dance before my eyes like a symphony of lights. A sudden sleepiness overcomes me and slowly my vision dims.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps and voices pacing back and forth. From what I could establish I was in an industrialized room, which consisted only of a small bed and bathroom. I moved my eyes down and found myself wrapped in blankets. I yanked the blanket off only to discover bandages covering my arms and legs. Where am I? I asked myself. I began to hear keys rattling I shifted my head towards the steel door, as it suddenly opened. A broad, muscular man dressed in a navy officer uniform abruptly said “You’re Ralph, yes?” I instantly felt a strange sense of security hearing a mature voice.
Why am I in the hospital? I think as my head throbs. I hope I'm not in trouble, but a feeling in my gut tells me otherwise. I groan as I sit up, not wanting to move but too curious to stay down. I realize that I'm dressed in a scummy white medical gown and a clean pair of khakis.
As a child the sight of an ambulance would send shivers down my spine, the flashing lights and loud horn, the panic as cars comes to a stop, and the terrifying events that followed. Being a witness to such commotion never seemed as horrendous until I became the person inside the ambulance. After experiencing headaches, sore throat, shortness of breath, and the lack of ability to move my left arm my parents sent out a distressed call to the paramedics who then rushed me into the E.R. Within the hour I was no longer on a gurney, but instead was on a hospital bed, tangled in color-coded wires to keep me alive. Hours passed, possibly even days, when I opened my eyes, only to find the words “ Sabrina’s room” on a dashboard in big pink letters. Injected into my left arm was an IV tube that dispensed antibiotic fluids into my suffering body. As I turned my head to look into the mirror I saw that my hair was shaved and a scar remained with staples over it, forming into the shape of an arc.
I was kicking, screaming, and making excuses so that they could let me go. Two nurses held me down and tried to calm me down. The surgeon put a mask on me and told me to count to ten. The mask smelled like cherries, I couldn’t resist not smelling it. The room was spinning and all of a sudden it was pitch black.
I notice something out of place at the end of the hallway. The light bulb was on. I can’t imagine why. The room has been empty for the entirety of my career. My curiosity burns bright as I peer closer at the door. I can’t help but feel drawn to it. I notice a sign underneath the light. ‘Patient 71. High Concern’. Surely I would’ve been notified of this patient. The lights flicker as I am eclipsed in maddening silence. I peer through the slit in the door, to be greeted by a young man sitting stiffly on the edge of his mattress, staring directly at me. I jump back in horror. How could he know I was there? I breathe heavily, feeling my heart beat through my ears.
Who brought me here? Out of impulse, my hand travels to my face, pressing the throbbing area on my right temple. I felt a scar and flinched at the pain. I tried to get up. Once I stepped on the cold, white tiles, I instantly fell back on to the bed. My body, engulfed in pain as if objecting my decision to stand up. I lay there pathetically, waiting for the pain to wash away. Staring at the ceiling, illuminated with a white fluorescent light. Perhaps waiting for some help by the hospital staff. I still didn't know how I got here, who took me here, how long I've been here.
"Shut up baby" I said blushing hiding my face in his chest. If you haven't notice my name is Carter Johnson. I'm 5'5 light skinned and thick. I love to twerk.
Habits of the Creative Minds is a simple textbook with a particular twist. I began reading the book thinking it was going to be a basic textbook, but the author,Richard E. Miller and Ann Jurecic, changed the tone of the book and put it into a metaphor. This metaphor was about the reader in your writing, or for anyone reading should feel like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The reader should be reading, and figuratively fall into the reading, by this the authors means the reader should not want to put that book down. They should be engulfed in the book and read from cover to cover. The attention must be maintained and the best way to do this is by making the writing unique. The authors of this book puts
Suddenly I awake at the noise of sirens and people yelling my name. Where am I? Those words radiate out my thoughts but never touching my lips. Panic engulfs me, but I am restricted to the stretcher. “Are you ok?” said the paramedic. I am dazed, confused, and barely aware of my surroundings. Again “Yes, I am fine” races from my thoughts down to my mouth, but nothing was heard. Then, there was darkness.