The wait

The disease is taking over Marsha, and her family waits

Spring should have been the moment of happiness for us. It should have been that time of celebration, because the white has melted from the ground, and has flown away to grieve some other land. We should have stripped ourselves of wool and boots, and quickly grab our pastels and umbrellas, as though the moment is here for but a day.

We were sad, our house still dark, and saturated with my sister and her sickness. All four of us pressed our heads on her sheets and pillows, and deeply inhaled to get a whiff of her disappearing scent. My sister wore perfume almost every day. It became a pleasant stain. It announced her arrival anywhere, and her presence still roamed, even when she left the house.

She held my face one day. It was stained with sorrow and hatred for the disease. It slowly pulled the life from her, teasing and taunting her first. Her howls stopped our appetites and her tears dripped on us from upstairs. My mother cried and we prayed, but our request became so monotonous, that we would drop off midway, and sit on the carpeted floors, linking our arms.

Her skin was never pale. It was always the vibrant chocolate colour, rich with beauty and uniqueness. Her hair was as graceful as ever, but her arms and legs lay flat on the bed like noodles.

“katy” She called to me, as I passed her room one day. She was hungry, but was ordered not to eat any solids that day. I walked in; the aroma seemed to send her into another world. Her eyes grew large with need, and she stretched out her hands. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell on the white sheet, settling there.

I spooned the pasta into her mouth, and immediately her head flew towards me and everything, plus more stained my white shirt. The colours from her insides looked like a bad painting. I only looked at the shirt and her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing heavy, but I just stood there with the bowl in my hand, and vomit dripping onto the white carpet.

We carried on, waiting for the white drops to cease. Most days our mouths remained closed, and the only song we listened to was my sister’s howling and vomiting, coming together to sound like a depressed band. She hardly complained, although we could feel her pain, and the way her face twisted, creating expressions not yet documented.

The pink curtains in her room were replaced with a deep navy that blocked the still, cold outdoors. It was too depressing, or so the doctor said. But she was stuck in a room, on dark sheets, dark furniture and dark curtains. If anyone asked me, I would’ve have said that depression breathes and lives comfortably in darkness.

The time was coming faster, and we all just waited. We read books, brushed her hair, throwing handfuls in the bin. She was wasted, and seemed no longer human. Boils the size of my fist grew and died all over her, which made me vomit. During the nights, we had to get up because she would vomit on herself, and the foul smell travelled through her door, under ours and dislodged in our nostrils.

The whole family gathered around her bed the day it came. We all saw it open the door. The dark mist floated through the room and went straight to her. It didn’t ask how we felt, or knock first. I moaned, my mother bawled, my father sobbed and my brother was as white as a ghost, and we are black.

We held on tightly, watching her breath leave her. She stared at the ceiling and for a brief moment she smiled, as though she saw it and was relieved. My mother squeezed my fingers when she took the final gasp.

“Goodbye Marsha” The fat tears rolled down her cheeks and just kept going. She looked peaceful, but sick, and I was somewhat happy that she would no longer feel any pain.  We just walked out as though she was sleeping, leaving her for awhile. Mother opened the curtains. Birds sat along a barbed wire fence, where Mr. Jones was building his new farm. It was spring and we didn’t even know.

Author's Note

Just a contest entry. There might exists grammar and punctuation problems

Reviews

[janeannerogers]

The first three or four paragraphs are really strong. I felt that there was a mystery I couldn't quite understand. Your use of descriptive devices was brilliant and I particularly loved the simile of her arms like noodles!

The 'vomiting' section as I will call it was too graphic and a little repetitive for me. I have a memory of a writer telling me that you should not repeat a word on the same page. ...well we have a lot of vomit here!;)

Then at the end I am yours again. ..Brilliant writing. How did this piece do in the competition?

[ReneeJ]

Thank you! I edited that section on my computer, but forgot to so it here. It didnt win, but I got a lot of feedback :)

[janeannerogers]

That's fine. I enjoyed reading it. I'd love to know what you thought about my story too.

[Boranus]

great writing. clear. concise. everything orderly. you tell a great story that is easy and deeply literary. I was emotionally subdued with interest and intellectually mesmerized by your diction and tone of voice. great understanding of a reader's attention and time. much success and respect to you and your writing.

[ReneeJ]

Thank you so much!

[Samuel Dickens]

For this, I think a "Wow!" is in order. I was captivated all the way through. You are very talented, I must say. As you already said, there are a few problems, but they are small. Excellent, powerful writing!

[ReneeJ]

Thank you so much for taking the time to review, really appreciate it :)

[Rocans]

Wow, I like the way you portray death and the dying. I feel the pain oozing from this one. Couldn't identify any grammatical errors. This one was unnerving for another reason too...my sister's name is Marsha, don't know what i'd do if something like this happened to her. I thoroughly enjoyed this though.

[ReneeJ]

Thank you so much for the kind review. No worries, just a coincidence :)