Positive

Positive

A Story by Sara
"

This was the first page of a piece of memoir I wrote in high school, it's about a physically painful summer morning before senior year.

"

I was tired. Like every other night of that long useless summer I had stayed up so late it was early. 

Living as a vampire; I awoke at night and fell into a half-sleep in the day. 

There was fog in my mind when the sun rose and pain in my soul when the moon rose.

I did not know why I was sick, only that I didn’t want take the pills anymore. 


It was the lazy kind of summer where you do nothing and want nothing but sleep, ice-cream and a fan. 


My eyes lids droop as I scrolled through another page of homeopathic cures. I was reminded of a dull and growing pain, my leg had been bent under me for a long time. It unbends with a loud but painless crack. The pain always comes later.


I stand to stretch, but instead I fall into bed. An uncomfortable and strange sleep, over takes me. I fall in and out of consciousness, imaginary and real became a tangled knot and I was lost. If I dreamed any thing during that timeless, endless moment it was a nightmare. One so real I couldn’t tell, was I awake? Perhaps I was somewhere, real and in-between.

 

In moments between the dreams I was in pain, like mom’s sowing needles were floating deftly and painlessly through my veins, only to violently smash into each and every joint, at every junction of my body.

 

I dreamed of an impossible pain, indescribable. It was the worst migraine I ever had doubled, then tripled collecting in into pressure points, forcing me still, in a voluntarily paralysis. It was too strange, too scary to be real.

In the instants connecting, awareness and sleep I went to a place where I was awake yet sleeping, standing in wide field while lying in cramped bed. I see red, weather mist or a fine silk I remember not, but it surrounds me. I feel the deep, demanding pain cloud my thoughts, my feelings, my memories, my soul.

 

I open my eyes, I must still be dreaming. Where is the red? For a moment my tears, and an attention-starved pain distract me. I am such a baby, I think looking down at my legs past my feet, and into a mirror across my room. I think this even as my face crumples further and fallen tears are joined by new ones.

 

At that moment I knew I wasn’t, hadn’t been imagining or over playing what I felt.

 

This pain. It’s not like what my sister implied, and what my thoughts secretly reflected. No, this was real I did not make this up, nor did I over play it, it was-is real.

 

I saw myself reflected, the mirrored image of me pale, red eyed and crying was disturbing, I look away.

 

My mom comes in I’d been screaming in my sleep. She leaves to get something when I roll over and stare at the collection of sleep aids and painkillers where my books used to be. Before I dumped them in the closet.  

They weren’t healing me. Maybe nothing could.

I hear my mom getting some warm olive oil and cotton strips; it wasn’t going to get any easier. Maybe nothing ever did.

© 2013 Sara


Author's Note

Sara
I'd love to hear some comments, this was written a few years ago and wrote differently then. I'd like to know what you think?

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

246 Views
Added on February 20, 2013
Last Updated on March 3, 2013
Previous Versions

Author

Sara
Sara

Toronto, Canada



About
My name is Sara, all you really need to know about me is that I love a good story. It doesn't matter what shape, length or style. The story is what I live for. I'll read any story, novel or book. .. more..

Writing
Identify me Identify me

A Story by Sara