General

Tina could hear the air moving through her bronchioles like they were some kind of weird instrument. It was a wheezing really, squeaky and worrisome. She reached for her inhaler and took a puff, holding it in for a count of four before slowly expelling the air that tasted of chemicals. It was kinda bitter really, but after so long with asthma she had come to associated it with easier breathing and so in a weird sort of way she liked it. She put the cap back on the inhaler and jammed it deep in her parker pocket, the last thing she needed was it falling out while she long-boarded home.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), February 22, 2015.
General

Ricky stopped abruptly. He had heard the tell tale musical sound from his lungs that told him an asthma attack was coming. Already the he couldn't draw in his usual lung-full, as if concrete had been poured into his airways. He patted his pocket for his inhaler, it was flat. He patted his other pockets - also empty. The panic and lack of air drove him to start gasping, breathing as if the oxygen had been sucked from the air around him. Ricky doubled over and them fell to his knees, one hand on the ground to support his weight. He glanced around, someone had to come, someone just had to. No-one died of asthma at twelve, did they? He tried to call out but without breath he had no way to alert anyone. Already his thoughts were becoming jumbled, like he was in a nightmare rather than a wintry alley in Brighton. Without uttering another sound his face met the frigid pavement and his eyes closed.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), February 22, 2015.