Beneath the ice

Is about a man who is trapped in his 'limbless shell', describing the horrors he faces and has been trapped in, through the past.

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Beneath The Ice

 

I wasn’t always like this; oh god what have I done to deserve this… this prison where the bars are this dismembered shell. I know I’m here… I can feel it. I can feel every damn scratch, injection, incision… and those flies, those god-damn flies. I hear their subtle buzzing, and nothing can embrace the inevitable. When they land on my limbless ‘cadaver’, I go to swat them, but I am without the extremities to relieve my self. I go to call for the nurse, but my throat swells up, and only a gurgle comes out. I would even blink Morse code if I could, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. I am only left to smell my rotting burned flesh, hear the horrors and realities that have bestowed upon me, and think; I sacrificed my body to save millions from terrible discomfort, and one would think that millions would save one of their own from the same. It’s inhumane to leave a soldier from a war in a state like this; Oh-god please can you kill me now?

I hear them come in as they always do, but this time I don’t think I can withstand anymore. Their boots echoed in this large room, seemingly sounding over the shrill screams and groans of agony that surround this room. A clip board is taken off the edge of my bed, and then there are whispers; like they knew all this time that I can hear them. Oh I wish, I wish just once they would tell me everything’s going to be okay. A shred of false hope is still hope.

More footsteps come closer, a crowd forms around my bedside. Helping each other transfer me from one slab to another, they plan on taking me to their operating room. Why won’t they stop doing this?

I hear this commanding voice after I’m wheeled through a pair of automatic doors, “And how are you all doing today?”
            “I’m just great doctor! I look forward to this today. This will be my first amputation surgery. I’ve studied a lot for this” a voice replies.
            “Alright, put on your gloves and let’s get ready! The infection has spread, and if we don’t amputate to the shoulder now, it could spread and get into his lungs or heart”.
            I heard his voice like he was right in my ear. I reminded me of when I was young…

 

I was about seven, or was it nine; it was about Christmas time, and I got my gift early. They were Ice skates, my very own. I had always borrowed my cousins, and was a very fast skater. But at my house, there was only the canal.
            “Kevin” I remember my cousin calling out, “Don’t go too far out, I think the ice is very shall…” and before he finished his sentence…
            The sound of the whirling saw blade reverberated in the room, piercing my ears as it came close.  
            All I remember was the cracking, and finally splitting of the ice. My cousin screamed for me, because before I can even react I was submerged. I could hear him from underneath; his blood curdling screech could have broken the ice itself. .
            I could feel the first cut, and the blood spray across my face like and ocean’s mist. While the doctor was coldly stealing another piece of me away, I could hear him ask for ten cc’s of some muscle-relaxer.
            I was breathing concrete, and my heart was pumping knives through my veins instead of blood.
            The nurse stabbed the syringe into my chest, and then I could feel my body shake, and going into convulsions.
            I swam up to the ice, and was clawing my way through. I was frantic, and desperate. I could see them all through the ice; the bottoms of their shoes at first, then my mom’s face in horror. To her I was lost, and maybe I was.
            “His body is going into shock” the doctor called out over the saw halfway through the stub of my arm. I could hear machines and their frantic beeping before I realized what was happening.
            I was weak by the time my father dived in and swam after me as I plunged to the bottom. Was I saved…? Did I just wake into this fierce dream of war, and misery?
            The monotonous squeal of the machines bled through my thoughts, as I was being released from my bounds.
            “Clear, we’re loosing him, we’re loosing him”

            I do not fear death, for I am already dead.

 

Author's Note

This was for the group called 'Write Now' and exercise 2 that asked to describe the senses.

Reviews

[doreen cyr]

this was a powerful story and you had me from start to finish
doreen

[shiloh jennings]

reminds me of one of my favourite lines: 'death, it is my friend, i welcome it with open arms.'

nice imagery and I like the way you worked the history into the present....