Deanne and I have both had the flu (must be proper flu not man flu as she has had it as bad as I have) since Tuesday this week which has meant all the clever stuff I was planning on posting this week (honest) has gone out of the window. Thankfully we’re on the mend…finally, however as my brain still hurts and I need to get myself back in order I thought I’d just post the first scene I wrote for a book I started in 2005 that only ever got up to about three and a bit thousand words before I realised I had more important things to think about at the time, like getting a better job and stuff!
It was going to be a thriller about a diabetic guitarist in a rock band who got framed for the murder of one of his bandmates but I didn’t really have a plan after that, which is probably one of the other reasons it fizzled out! There are a few sweary words in it so please excuse that. Anyway, it’s not much but here you go…
The first thing I notice is that the back of my hand feels warm, and sort of slimy. I look down. My vision seems to follow the movement of my eyeballs after a couple of seconds.
It’s my left hand and its red, the hair on my arm is stuck to my skin. I think the phrase I’d be looking for is ‘caked with sweat’ but currently I don’t seem to be geared up for thinking.
My temples are throbbing, as my brain starts to restart I realise that I’ve had a hypo. It must have been quite a bad one otherwise there wouldn’t be blood.
The sweat is fairly normal but I must of cut something or there wouldn’t be blood, either on my hand or…bloody hell, on the carpet. That’s going to be a bugger to clean up when I’ve come round properly.
There is a slightly more immediate problem though. I’m lying on the floor in my bedroom but none of my limbs seem to be coordinated enough to actually carry me towards the kitchen.
I’m thinking the only reason I’ve come round is because of the adrenalin pumping round my body from whatever injury it is I’ve given myself.
I can reach the drawers from where I’m laying, I manage to turn myself over enough that I can use both my arms and my legs to lever myself into an unsteady upright position.
I’m definitely not stable but thankfully the kitchen is just down the corridor and the corridor isn’t too wide!
I make my way along by propping myself up with my arms on either side of the passageway. I’m sure I look pretty dumb, but for one thing there’s no one here to see me and for another I wouldn’t care if there was. In fact I wouldn’t be like this if there was somebody else here!
I meander through to the kitchen. The adrenalin seems to be doing its job because by the time I get there I can almost stand of my own accord again.
I reach into the fridge while supporting myself with my hand on the bench. I take the orange juice out with one hand and tip the carton back so it pours in to my mouth.
I never like the feeling of the raw cardboard against my lips. I should probably cut the container so the top layer of waterproofing doesn’t rip off like that.
I don’t know how much I drink, I finish it though. ‘Ah crap!’ My first words after hypos tend to be colourful metaphors of the four letter variety.
I put some bread in to the toaster and push the knob down, guess I need to wait until it’s done…
Two possibilities are that you will:
A. Think that is okay!
B. Think it is utter tosh and that you won’t get those few minutes of your life back in which case my work is done as I have been bed bound four out of the five days of this week and will personally definitely not get them back 😛
Have a good weekend.