| » Poem: Holy Dreams pt3 |
Holy Dreams pt3
written by izzzy07:07 AM 11/24/04‘A door. Why is there a door on the roof?’ Thought Asta, still a little hazy from the night’s events.
‘Doors don’t go on rooves, silly.’ She began again.
‘I’m not lying down, that’s why I thought the door was on the roof… Duh… Hey why aren’t I lying down, I was asleep wasn’t I?’
Gazing around the room, and her current situation, Asta discovered that apart from standing up in a padded, yes padded room, that she was also restrained at both the arms and legs preventing her to get the wisp of ash blonde hair away, that so frequently found an annoying spot right in front of her eyes.
Defeated by gravity and sheer annoyance Asta reverted to getting someone’s attention. There had to be a reason for this, and she was going to find out…
“Hello. Hello~??? Is anyone going to get me away from this God awful place???? Get Me Out Of Here!!! WILL SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING???”
Working her way up to a yell Asta felt her asthma was going to get the better of her once again. Attempting to breathe deeper to clear the stale air out of her lungs, Asta’s frustration worked her into a panic, trapping the stale air into her lungs instead of the opposite. Hyperventilating almost, Asta wished she wasn’t so susceptible to these asthma attacks that threatened her life on a day to day basis.
“Help? Help me?” She wheezed, “Help…”
Gasping for breath, vision swimming, and the tingling feeling in the extremities came over her. Her thoughts began to muddle as a person came swiftly through the door, the one on the roof, she thought. As another rushed over to her they began conversing in words which made her feel so alienated. The words were not hers, yet she could understand them as if they were in fact her own. Another language entirely.
A sharp thrust of liquid went into her left arm. She turned to them in protest of this injection, pleading with her tear filled eyes. She knew that they could not understand her. Why could she understand them so completely and it not happen in reverse?
Being released from the restraints by the first that rushed though the door, the one with the fawn coloured hair, she was placed on the floor for a quicker recovery; her body limp from the lack of oxygen. Carrying her down from where she was standing, her breathing was regulating back to normality. As they breathed a sigh of relief and wiped away the sweat from their brow the fawn haired man left the room and brought back a generic blanket, like the ones you have in hospital and placed it over Asta ensuring that she was not going to get cold at any rate.
She knew that somehow these people cared about her, that they came to care for her because of a childhood thingy. Childhood thingy? That’s great grammar.
Asta laid there exhausted but excited that she was awake for once while someone was around her. Normally they were in another room or they were talking about her or saving her life… Not that Asta wasn’t thankful for them saving her all those times but life in a room, all alone, left you a bit down after a while, if you know what I mean.
‘I can’t speak their language, but I can understand it. Try as I might, they are unable to understand me. My parents, my relatives, my friends; I have no one in my world that can answer my questions. Not even them. They can’t understand any of the patterns of my speech but if I don’t tell these people that there is a child who has died who knows if he will survive. I would have sentenced him to death by lack of communication.’ Thought Asta morbidly.
Feeling as though she had more energy, she pulled out her arm from the blanket and as the person beside her began to leave she held onto his arm and begged him with her eyes and her body. How she wanted company after so long. He went to take her thin hand off his white lab coat, hesitated, then thought better of it.
“No,” she cried holding out her arm to him, “Please don’t leave me. Please.”
However with tears welling in her eyes and the door closing she knew a boy was lost to her dreams, lost forever into the abyss. She crawled over to the wall to find comfort in its closeness, she turned her back towards the door the others came through not too many minutes ago and she surrendered to exhaustion; staring at the ceiling. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
This is part three, obviously. Comment please. Part four is going to be here in a moment.
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