“What do you want?” asked the nurse.
What did he want? He once had a house, but all he remembered was a tumble and then pain. Then he had lost it all: mobility, independence, dignity, his house. Now he was lost.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
Linda writes for both children and adults. She blogs at lindaschueler.com.
She lay in some odd, uncomfortable place, not quite sure of where she was exactly or how she came to be in this spot, with her chin turned upwards so all that was visible was some wide expanse she vaguely remembered to be called a sky.
It was truly something.
Kathleen Doyle is currently studying English at the University of Toronto. Her short story “Dr. Surgeon” was published at Flash Fiction Magazine. She also presented the poem “20 Seconds of Breathless Anxiety” at the University of Toronto’s Fifth Annual Humanities Conference and was published in the conference proceedings.
Her desk was littered with scraps of paper, each scrawled with its own collection of words, representing a thousand grasped-at memories.
It wasn’t working. They wouldn’t come back.
She stoked the fireplace and began dropping the papers in, one by one. Forget the yesterdays: time to start working on tomorrow.
This story was based on the prompt “scraps of paper” at TypeTrigger.
A leering face, a dark alley, and a tangy, salty-sweet flavour were all he could remember when he awoke in the hospital bed.
The contents of his wallet said he was Josip Šerić, a wealthy Croatian businessman visiting Chicago.
He didn’t care. All that mattered was finding back that flavour.