Honest Words · 4:20pm Feb 1st, 2013
She holds my hand with all the strength she has left, a bony grasp that shakes like a frightened child. I can hear her breathing, wet and rasping as if her lungs are filled with fluid—until I realise that they probably are. The oxygen machine next to me hisses, and I can hear shrill beeps from the other side of the bed. One and a half every second, a laughable imitation of a heartbeat. To me it sounds like a countdown.
“You’re such a good boy,” she whispers. I have to lean in to hear her properly. “You remember to study hard.”
“Of course, Nan,” I reply easily, putting on my best fake smile. At this point, it’s pretty damn good. “You know me. I always work hard.”
“And don’t go” —she coughs, wiping away the dribble with a shaking napkin—“getting a big head, either.” There it is, just a hint of the sternness I remember, the bluntness that always put pins in my metaphorical balloons. Humility was a big thing with Nan.
“I won’t,” I say. We’ve had this conversation before. By now it almost feels wooden, like a bad movie script. I wonder if she even remembers the other times, or if she knows that this time it’s different. “Don’t you worry.”
She gives me a shaky smile before her body starts to convulse during another coughing fit. I cringe, hoping she doesn’t see the movement, and it takes her a few wheezing breaths before she can speak again. She grips my hand tighter, almost desperately, like holding onto me is the most important thing in the world. “You’re… such a good boy. Very special. You make me so proud.”
Instinctively I am about to say that she just told me not to get a big head, but I stop, the smile faltering for just a second. Then it’s back in place, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Nan. That… means a lot to me.”
Because right now, honest words are all we have left to give each other.
I never have liked goodbyes.
Remember how I said I might post scraps of stuff here? Well this was a little something I threw together not that long ago. It's not pony, so forgive me for that, but it was a scene that I wanted to get out of my head. And plus, anything to try and practice writing different styles and genres! Like last time, it's not really edited or anything, just kind of thrown together, lol.
Anyway, new chapter of As the Sun Sets is coming along nicely. The problem with having written the first drafts months ago for a lot of this stuff is that looking at it now, it really, really sucks, and it requires me rewriting huge chunks. Unfortunately, this takes more time than I would like. Still, it's coming along nicely now, so hopefully it's not too far away!
Stay awesome!
Did you just violate your own post about writing sad?
A serious question is whether there's more non-pony-fiction of yours on the internet or not? Writing ponies is good and all, but something that stands on its own legs has (or can have) its own beauty.
This had to come just as I find out that one of my friend's grandmothers is dying.
I thought you had just/were now losing one too.
That wasn't very nice, Mystic.
:(
I said this in a few messages, but I love you.
I wish that you didn't have to draw on anything to have written it, but you're already doing better if you can express it so powerfully. Be well, Mystic.
782214 Hehe, not all sad is bad sad! Just the bad sad!
And at the moment, no, there isn't. Although, that will probably change one day!
782314 I hope your friend is doing okay. :)
782654
783339 Thanks, T.D.