The Ghost Writer (5)

Copyrighted

Sorry it’s so short…

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“This is it Dean! I can’t take it anymore. I’m really starting to get freaked out,” Casidi greeted Dean when he came to pick her up for church.

“Baby, did it happen again?” His own confusion shown through those dark eyes.

Casidi merely gestured to her bedside.

Crossing the room in three strides, Dean bent over to inspect the typewriter.

“Are you messing with me Casi?” He asked, holding the pages between his thumb and his finger.

“No! I’m not freaking messing with you. Someone is messing with me!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. Where are the other pages?”

“They’re in my desk.”

Dean took a moment to read through the stack.

“This stuff really flows. Your dreams are intense.”

“I’ve never had a dream like this, Dean. And this has never happened. I want you to keep the typewriter in your dorm tonight. Please.”

“Of course. Now, come on if you still want coffee.”

“Please.” She mustered up a smile. Dean put his arm around her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked when she flinched. Casidi slipped her sweater off her shoulder to reveal the bruise.

“Who did that to you?!” His mood turned red.

“I did. In my sleep. Let’s just go.”

Dean hesitantly shut the door behind him. He didn’t like what was happening to his girlfriend. She was a mess. Hopefully getting the typewriter out of the dorm would be enough to calm her down.

Just as the door clicked shut, the window slid open.

“They’re going to move the typewriter. How are we going to monitor her if they take away that element?”

“Well we’ll have to figure out where the boyfriend lives.”

 

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Psych Ward

Copyrighted


It was hard seeing him like this. Being led through dreary halls, probed with needles, stuck in rooms with no windows. But I held his hand the whole time.

They couldn’t see me.

Whenever we would have a minute alone he’d glance at me, piercing gray eyes that didn’t belong in that grimy, unshaven face.

“This isn’t fair,” He rasped.

“I know.” I placed my hand alongside his face. My pale skin glowed against his rough exterior.

“I just want to be with you.” A tear made a visible path down his face.

“I know sweetheart. But I’m always here.”

“They won’t let me see you sometimes.” He started to get angrier. “They won’t let me talk to you. I can’t touch you!” He shook at the restraints he was in.

I kissed his forehead gently.

” I’m always here. I’m right here with you.”

The men came and got him again. They started leading him somewhere new, somewhere I hadn’t seen. I had to run to keep up.

“Where are you taking me?” His legs went limp, but the men dragging him along didn’t miss a step. They had dealt with this before.

“Tell me where we’re going!”

“We’re just going to help you Mr. Jones.”

“My name is not Jones!” He screamed like an animal, he kicked, he bit, he swore. It tore my heart into pieces.

“Maria?!” He called behind him.

“I’m here baby,” I said softly, tears choking me. “I’m here.”

“Maria!”

“I’m right here. I’m always with you.” But as I said the words I knew something was about to happen.

They led him through a door and it slammed in my face. I reached for the knob but couldn’t grasp it. This had never happened before.

I rushed to a large window. The glass was too thick, the walls had to much padding. He couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t see me.

He thought he was alone.

The men hefted him onto a table and strapped his legs down. He arms were still stuck in that horrendous jacket. His chest was pinned against the cold metal.

I could see he was screaming, the veins popping out of his neck.

“I’m still here!” I screamed.

A long needle was presented to a man with gloves on.

“No. You can’t do this! He’ll forget me!” I wailed as I pounded on the glass. Nobody in the room noticed me.

The needle was inserted into his arm. Even as it was drawn out I could feel it.

I was the ghost inside his head. And they were forcing me out.

“I can’t leave him! He needs me! He loves me!” I hit the glass with my failing strength.

“It’s been so long since he held me,” I whimpered. I was starting to go and I couldn’t even tell him good-bye. It was the car crash all over again. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.

“Don’t make me go,” Even I could hardly hear my own voice.

They were giving him some sort of medication. I barely caught the pills being forced down his throat as my legs gave out and I sank to the floor.

I tried to tell him that I loved him but the words wouldn’t come out.

My world became white.

Equality

Featured image

This pink ribbon is everywhere this month.

It makes sense, it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

It really is a great way to raise awareness… for one type of cancer that only women suffer from.

Not saying it is to be taken lightly! Not at all. The effects of breast cancer can be devastating and deadly.

But wouldn’t it be more effective to have an all-inclusive Cancer Awareness month?

Breast cancer gets its own month, color, catchphrases, definitely the most press and awareness. But what about pancreatic cancer? Lung cancer? Colon, prostate,liver?

I believe we should change October to Cancer Awareness month so that everyone can be encouraged by awareness for their battle, not just breast cancer.

I realize that it may be difficult to really do everything justice, but I really don’t get why this one cancer deserves so much of our attention when so many others are hardly talked about.

I don’t know, maybe these are just silly thoughts of mine. Comments?

Would You Kill Your Child?

“My baby is going to be born with (insert birth defect or illness here), so what’s the point? It will never live a normal life. Might as well put it out of it’s misery now.”

This is my least favorite argument for abortion.

Seriously.

What the heck?

I know this couple whose baby was born with some chronic illness. They did not abort her. If you asked them, I’m sure the thought never crossed their mind.

There’s this kid at work who has this super rare disease, like 40 people have it worldwide. He could develop cancer when he gets older. No one knows how to cure it. It’s dangerous. This kid is one of the sweetest kids at work and makes my day that much better. If his mom had known about this disease, do you think she should’ve aborted him? Of course not! He’s a wonderful kid and she adores him.

There’s a boy with Down syndrome at work. He may be difficult, but do you think his mom regrets the decision to let him live? Of course not.

That’s the thing. Life may not be easy all the time, but all these kids deserve to live. And they are. They do things like taekwan-do, dance, they go on vacations with their families, they go camping. They are wonderful little people.

That’s why that argument for abortion makes me so mad. I know quite a few kids with birth defects or illness and they are fantastic kids. You can’t tell me that’s a good reason to kill them off.

There’s my two cents on the matter.