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2004-12-26 18:23:12 ET Just something I wrote cause I didn't write for a long time. Written to re-awaken the know-how of writing. It's not very well written but I think that it serves its purpose whatever that may be. ***** The revolver slipped out of my hands and onto the soft carpeted floor. It landed there with a soft thud and then lay there in complete silence. I was becoming more and more aware of the extent of my injuries with each extended moment in which I tried to move. Slowly the arms. That brought about a sharp pain. Then only the legs. This gave an even bigger jolt of pain but it was a bit more dull and I thought that I could sustain it longer. Thus I stood up and walked out of the hotel room, trying my best not to move my upper body. I could see the elevator doors as soon as I stepped out into the corridor which connected all of the rooms. It became a slow, unbearable torture as I slowly took those 20 steps slowly advancing to the elevator doors which I had hoped would magically open up for me as I neared. No such luck. I would have to push the elevator call button. But definatly not with my arms. Not with the condition they're in. I wasn't even sure of how many fingers I was missing. So I knelt and attempted to push the call button with my nose or my tongue. A muscle ripped somewhere by my left calf and I crumpled to my knees. I leaned my head forward and pushed the button with the increasingly numbing part of my forehead. The elevator came quickyl and, after a few attempts at standing up and finally managing to do so, I slowly stumbled into the elevator, waited for the doors to close and hoped that somebody in the hotel lobby would call for the elevator sooner or later. I was beginning to feel faint. Sooner or later I would black out. Due to the injuries and blood loss. Whether I would wake up or not would all depend on the whether I could get help in time. And that all depended on when some Joe Shmoe in the lobby would decide to use the lift to get back up into his room. I passed the slow eternity of waiting by clenching my teeth. My facial muscles were the only parts of my body that I could flex to force my mind away from the pain. My head felt like some over-excited alarm clock just ringing and ringing its alarm to notify me of my impending casual death. I already knew my chances, had accepted them, but the pain wouldn't dulldown, wouldn't die or fade into the background. And so I stoo there, leaning against one of the elevator walls, grinning in a stiff muscular grimace of a man in a state of excrutiating pain. I wanted it all to end, to die without dying. To dissapear from the physical feeling of the state of my body. I wanted to be some deattached observer seeing the extent of my damage but not feeling it. And all those wishes dissapeared the moment the lift shifted and began its descent into the lobby of the hotel. When those 2 mettalic doors returned to their sheaths I almost fell forward, out of the elevator without moving a muscle, but self-preservation kicked in and I regained my footing in a quick, pain-filled stumble. The person who rung the call button, some short, chubby bussinessman with round glasses and a complete look of shock on his face, stood there, shaking in fear, in my way. I moved forward, step by step, ignoringthe panic-stricken crowd around me. The little electronic eye in front of the hotel's front doors spotted me and the 2 glass doors slid open in a way that spoke of release. It was at that moment that the world tuned out, became a small tiny speck on my retina, and a slow, murming hum in my ears. I blacked out and fell forward, my face planted in the WELCOME mat right outside of the hotel. **** Ignore the spelling mistakes. EDIT: Fixed paragraph spacing. i.e. I added spaces between the paragraph to make it more readable. |
