General

His words splinter inside me causing more pain than the cancer. Terminal. Hospice. Comfort care only. He's telling me that there will be no more walks in the park, no more birthdays with Hank at the bowling alley and I won't see another snow season. My life from here on in is four walls and pain medication until I die. I don't want it, not any of it. Last year I put down my spaniel to save him from a a painful end, why can't I have the same? Perhaps if I scream and scream for pain medication I can get an overdose, slide out on a feather-lined cloud into the arms of the almighty.

General

Emilio hadn't heard his mother's voice in almost thirty years, not since the cancer took her. But the second he heard it he knew it was her, though it was far younger in sound than his recollections. With great effort he opened his wrinkled eyes to see his wife and children looking down at him. "Mother is calling," is all he said, so softly it was almost inaudible against the hum of machinery in the hospital room.

HIs wife touched his arm softly, "then go to her my darling." What she said next was lost in an involuntary sob. As she turned into her son's arms Emilio closed his eyes. From a blinding white light came his mother, a young woman again, holding out her hand. He reached forwards to clasp it, his earthly limbs staying quite still. The sounds of crying grew fainter and he found himself in his perfect heaven. Under the boughs of an Italian olive grove sat his father and every loved one who had passed on already. Birds sang into the endless summer air, his mother hugged him...

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 26, 2014.
General

The pain that once burned like fire had faded away to an icy numbness. Black filled the edges of my vision and the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat. My breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Seconds passed as I lay there, then, I heard voices. People swarmed all over me, trying to help me, I realized. They wanted to save me. If I could have, I would of laughed. Surely they could tell that it was far to late for me to be saved, yet they were like children, naive to the darkness of the real world. The despair and suffering of the world that took everyone I loved away from me. I would be joining them soon though. I would be able to leave all the pain behind. I closed my eyes, I could die happily now. My fragile, human heart beat one last time.

By phoenix, June 26, 2014.
General

I have held my breath in a pool before, this isn't like that. This is like having a gun to my head and being told not to let my heart beat. Of course it will beat. And just like the heart must go on my lungs will inhale whether it is air or briny water. In the moment that the coolness rushes in I know I am already dead. In moments I will float like the sea weed, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. I want to be saved, I want a rescuing hand to tow me back to life, to the world I know...

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 11, 2015.
General

Quincy watched his mother in the bed, so deep in ten shades of agony that she would be unreachable until the morphine went in. Where was the doctor when you needed him? He pressed the call button and paced the room, then pressed it again. The nurse appeared, tired but still smiling. She took one look at her patient and paged the doctor. There was little she could say, at this stage upping the dose was likely fatal but it was the only option left. After ten minutes that felt like a lifetime Doctor Miller entered, his face without his usual smile. He called for the morphine. Looking at Quincy he spoke, "Mr Jones, this dose is the minimum that will take her out of pain, but there is a strong likelihood her heart will stop. Your mother has a DNR order, so if that happens, we must let her go. As her decision maker we need you to sign off on the treatment." Quincy let the tears flow and his hand shook.

"Yeah, Doc, just give me the pen. I wish I could have done this for her sooner."

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 10, 2015.
General

The room was beautiful, the flowers fresh, perfumed. There was a view of the mountains and outside the garden was perfection. Cynthia eased herself into the soft chair while the nurse put on her favourite music, Joni Mitchell, starting with "All I Want." Her husband sat at her side, quietly holding her hand. The nurse sat at her side. "Cynthia, would you like some tea and cake?"

"Oh yes, carrot cake, I believe Todd asked you to have it." Todd nodded, but he couldn't speak. It was all he could do to hold back his tears. Thirty eight years of love and he would leave this scented room alone. But her pain was immense and the doctors could promise nothing but a morphine drip from here on in. Cynthia clasped his arm. "I love you now more than I ever did, darling, and I'll be waiting for you. You know that right?" Todd nodded again. The nurse was back with the cake and a tea pot of Earl Grey. Cynthia ate a small piece, Todd sipped at tea.

The nurse sat and explained how the poison worked, she'd feel no pain, just a moment of confusion and thirst. She asked Cynthia to explain what she understood, that she knew the potion would kill her. She did. Todd wrapped her in his arms and kissed her grey dashed hair. There is nothing that could prepare him for the pain of this farewell. Cynthia kissed him gently on his wet cheek and downed the fluid in one before putting a chocolate in her mouth to get rid of the bitter taste. Todd squeezed her tighter and to the sound of "Big Yellow Taxi" she slipped away to heaven.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 10, 2015.
General

In her life Diana had given more of herself than perhaps was wise. She had loved without boundaries and donated money when she should have kept it for herself. There was no slush fund for a private ward with food worth eating. When her friends came calling they brought something home cooked, and so, in one go, they nourished her body and soul. But the process of dying was more cruel than any fiction she'd ever read. The pain would be with her until the end, everyday a battle not to loose hope. She had a stack of books next to her cot and not the strength to read one for more than a minute at a time; with the pain it was hard to follow the plot anyway. Sometimes her son would pick up her favourite detective novel and read to her until she fell asleep. When she awoke he'd always left a note to say when he'd return, signed love, Jackson. She had every one kept in the dresser and stuffed in her make-up bag to make sure the cleaners didn't throw them out. The mornings brought bed baths from strangers, kindly though they were, and when her legs gave way she'd be winched onto a commode to do her business and afterwards left in an adult diaper. There was no dignity here. When alone she let her face, so deeply etched with the lines of laughter and love, fall with gravity, reserving her strength to smile for her visitors.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 10, 2015.
General

Earnest lies in the bleach tinctured ward on the crisp but thinning sheets. A curtain hangs limply on the chrome railing, looking like it's been washed a thousand times. With eyes on the polystyrene tiles above he hears the door open and in comes Tara with a priest. He feels his chest tighten into a knot like a cramp and a quiet rage builds inside.

"Love, I know you said no priest, but darling, this is when everyone needs one." Tara rests her hand on his, feeling the coldness in his fingers. He pulls his hand away and turns toward the wall. The priest looks to Tara and smiles apologetically.

"Nobody has to see the priest, if he'd rather not talk to God that's OK." At his words Earnest turns over faster than he has done this past month that has seen him wane into a shadow of the powerful man he was.

"God? Don't want to talk to God? Actually, that's a fine idea. I want to meet him right now. I want to know why a man who's worked every God damn day to provide for his family, to be a good man, has to die like an animal. Worse than that, they get put down right? All I want is enough morphine to drop a cow and you can send me to Jesus with a smile on my face." Tara blanched.

"I'm so sorry, sorry. That's not like him at all. He goes to church every Sunday, he loves God."

"No Tara, no I don't. He can make a planet in six days but he can't put a loaf of bread in a starving child's hands? He can make mountains but he can't make a clear book of instructions everyone can follow? Damn it, Tara, even Lego does a better job than that. You want me to worship a God that leaves children to suffer? You just want a God that saves you your favourite parking spot and reminds you to put the trash out on Wednesdays. So yeah, I want to talk to him, I want to give a piece of my mind." Tara opened her mouth, but her tears were falling too thickly. The priest stepped forwards.

"Son, God is a spirit, he can only work through our spirits. He's in everyone, if they want his guidance..."

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 10, 2015.
General

She stumbled across the catwalk with indescribable pain flowing through her. Her heart squeezed as she fell over. Her ribs snapped like twigs. Blood flooded through her eyes and her guts came tumbling out of her mouth. Ruth lay in agony as her stomach ripped open and all her 'stuff' poured out. She drooled red blood. The last she saw was her sister cackle monstrously and fiddle with something in her pocket revealing to pull out a duplicate of her. Ruth blinked her last second...

By sanathelamaxd, July 20, 2014.
General

Dakota is almost at the aluminium frame of the hospital; look, a porter is coming out with a wheelchair and she’s in. But wait, that’s not the end of it. We’ll fast forward fifteen minutes, that’s all they’ll take to discover she has no health insurance. There, the porter is wheeling her out again. Look, you can see her. You can hear her too. She’s screaming like her guts are being ripped out with a blunt instrument even against this terrible wind that threatens to rip the limbs from the trees, especially the young ones. In five minutes she and the baby will die. I’m going to give you the price of saving her life in cash, the price the hospital needs to cover her expenses and you can either keep it or take it in there and save them both. I know you want the money right now so you can run out into that storm and save them but there is some information you need first. We have three envelopes to open here. Let’s see what is in the first one...

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 17, 2015.

Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by Daisy.

Thrillers / Supernatural

Together they floated around Murphy and Kiesel.
Coming very close now one of the beautiful blue creature blew air into Kiesels's lungs so for the last time he was able to find the strength to speak and put Murphy at ease. Through blood he stuttered an apology, Murphy shook his head.
" There's nothing to be sorry about." He added.
The elemental of water gave Murphy the courage to cry, but they were hardened tears, they rolled slowly one at a time in silvery streaks down his face. To support each other each man locked his fist into the others.
The elemental of fire, tried to soothe Kiesel's wounds as he arched with the pain locked inside. His body trembling his lungs struggling.
" Keep fighting. Clear my name with Rifka, I loved her, but I hurt her. And for that I'm sorry. I was trying to brake away, not to brake her." His breath became ragged, his voice stuttering in shallow gasps, and was slowing with pain. From Murphy's arms he looked into his eyes, tightened up again as a wave of pain washed over him.
Throwing his head back with utter defeat and despair Kolya cry's out Annya's name. Believing she was still in his arms. Through a haze he hears Murphy's soothing voice.
" Go to her." He whispered. " She's waiting for you."
Kiesel smiled, gently he lifted his fingers to the side of his head and saluted. Slowly Kolya sensed he had reached for something behind his back he didn't want him to see. Murphy was trembling and hesitant, but with every blast the Nazi's came closer. There was only one course of action left to him, even now he was saying to himself no regrets, no regrets. Kolya sucked in a Sharp deep breath, that seemed to be caught in his throat choking him from the inside as Kiesel began to bleed out. Murphy felt helpless as he felt his friends fist tighten in his which he matched strength for strength. But felt the betrayal in his heart and saw it in his eyes. Their fists tightened as if this act alone would hold him to this earth.

By ingsey, April 1, 2015.
General

One Tanya could see very clearly. In this cloud figure, were little flecks of lightning and a beautiful young woman, who unnervingly seemed to look like herself with Celtic-like spirals imprinted on her body. This was the element of air, sometimes very hard to see. She made her presence known more through touch than sight. She seemed to be fascinated by Tanya but more repelled by the male human presence, and more afraid. Together they floated around Murphy and Kiesel.

Coming very close now one of the beautiful blue creatures blew air into Kiesels's lungs so for the last time he was able to find the strength to speak, and put Murphy at ease. Through blood he stuttered an apology, Murphy shook his head.

" There's nothing to be sorry about." He added. The elemental of water gave Murphy the courage to cry, but there was pain locked inside. His body trembling his lungs struggling.

" Keep fighting. Clear my name with Rifka, I loved her, but I hurt her. And for that I'm sorry. I was trying to break away, not to brake her." His breath became ragged, his voice stuttering in shallow gasps, and was slowing with hardened tears, they rolled slowly one at a time in silvery streaks down his face. To support each other each man locked his fist into the others.
The elemental of fire, tried to soothe Kiesel's wounds as he arched with the pain. From Murphy's arms he looked into his eyes, tightened up again as a wave of pain washed over him.

Throwing his head back with utter defeat and despair Kolya cry's out Annya's name. Believing she was still in his arms. Through a haze he hears Murphy's soothing voice.

"Go to her," he whispered. " She's waiting for you." Kiesel smiled, gently he lifted his fingers to the side of his head and saluted.

By ingsey, April 23, 2015.
Psychological

She inhaled a trembling breath, sweat accumulating on her skin: icy cold. Death wasn't as beautiful or peaceful as she had previously imagined, with her stomach turning in on itself and eating away at her insides, tearing away at the tissue there, leaving her but a rendered flab of dying cells.

Midnight hair wrapped around her throat, choking her whilst tainted with the drool and snot that had turned to liquid much like her mind.

Death was nowhere near as merciful as she had dreamed of it being, and as she tried to move, tried to reach the phone, yellow plastic tipped and her body pulsated with the sound, froth gathering forth near her lips in pungent yellow.

Then, then-

That was it.

Not so beautiful, eh?

By xxxrogueyaoigirlxxx, February 28, 2018.
Horror

The clock ticked; my time left was limited. Oxygen was slowly being ripped and snatched from lungs leaving scars of regret on the weak tissue. Every waking minute was pain. Every movement sent screaming agonies dancing across the vulnerable flesh. My surroundings blurred into a new sick reality only the broken could see. I was broken. I was a ghost in my own machine. A ghost floating in an acid lake slowly nearing the departure of earth. Only one question taunted me... Heaven or Hell?

By Nad Bell, June 3, 2019.