Blade angled, swift, slid through layered membrane like into soft butter.
Awakening life fluid. Forcing it to rupture rivulets, flow blood red on surface skin.
I could have screamed, demanded him to stop, but he had power over me.
“Operation successful,” the doctor said.
I looked down. Foot still there.
Krystyna is a former librarian. She’s now writing and publishing poetry, flash fiction, and short stories. She lives in Edmonton, Canada, and loves to travel the world and share her experiences through writing.
You opened my heart; you saw inside me; you understood what I needed.
You were the one that awoke me to a brand new day and helped me live again.
Without you I wouldn’t be here, I couldn’t be here. You are my one and only saviour.
My heart surgeon.
Connell was inspired to write this story by his father-in-law’s successful heart valve operation, which was originally misdiagnosed in another hospital. See more of his literary mishaps at paragraphplanet and home.wtd-magazine.com.
You ripped out my heart. That wasn’t very nice.
I do appreciate your thoughtfulness in replacing it and stitching me up afterwards, and my new eyeballs work great, thanks, but would it have been too much trouble to remove these huge bolts from my neck, while you were at it?
This story was based on the prompt “ripped out” at TypeTrigger.
They decide to spent some time apart so they can get their priorities straight, sort out their emotions, and gain a new perspective on their situation.
It changes nothing. Within a month they’re back where they started, lying on that operating table, begging the surgeon to stitch them back together.
This story was based on the prompt “time apart” at TypeTrigger.