Never Ending Call

Never Ending Call

A Story by Gianna Anaya
"

Progression of a responder

"

At 6 years old; Everyone wants to be a firefighter, or at least I did. When those big suited men walked up to me and gave me a sticker badge my name was erased and I became a firefighter. No more playing football, or flying to the moon, I didn't need to play pretend with the other kids because I knew who I was going to be. When I turned 15 and I got to join my heroes amidst the chaos of swirling lights and blaring sirens my world felt right. My home became a temporary bed, a family of strangers, and music was tone’s dropping at four a.m.

At 18 I answered my own questions. I answered everyone's questions, I answered the questions no one thought to ask. But most importantly, when my mother called me asking why my text sounded off, I couldn't tell her it was because I couldn't stop the bleeding; I couldn't tell her in fear that she would no longer be proud of her son. When I looked in the mirror the shine of my first day was gone, my dreams became reality and I no longer felt unstoppable.

At 21 I had seen more on my days and nights then anyone should see in their entire life. I saw decomposition, mutilation, violence, and loss as the limits of my city, and the people in it turned into individual time bombs I was required to keep from imploding. I became addicted to the thought of cheating death so much that the people I couldn't save turned into a race I didn't finish in time. The pain dulled, and my heart became as cold as a fire in the middle of December.

Now, at the age of 60, my bones no longer comply to my requests and I have come to terms with the fact that one day my young protégés will bust down my doors and attempt to put my crumbling heart back together. When I go, I pray the arms of those I couldn't save hold me as I bear the weight of my failures. When I close my eyes for the last time, I pray the CPR is unsuccessful for I have cheated death far too many times and I am tired of running a never ending call. When I die, I will find relief when the sirens stop. My dreams will leave with me, and when the lights dim, I can rest, knowing I had a good run, it’s time to hang up my number.

*Unit #395 off duty, signing off, thank you, and goodbye*

© 2017 Gianna Anaya


My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

107 Views
Added on November 25, 2017
Last Updated on November 25, 2017
Tags: firefighter, first responder, coming of age, EMT

Author

Gianna Anaya
Gianna Anaya

About
I write the world that exists around me; I write the world I wish existed around me; I write the world I hope no one ever has to witness; above all I write the corners of my brain that I simple can't .. more..

Writing
Guilt Guilt

A Story by Gianna Anaya