Ivan Presents...
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Some Sort Of Beginning
They called it a miracle. That no one could have survived an accident of that magnitude. The religious said God was watching out for him, that He loved him. He didn’t buy any of it.
For one thing, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He could still see her soulless eyes looking back from the side mirror. She knew what she was doing. What she had done.
The memory of that afternoon was etched firmly in his memory. The pain; in his being. That he was alive seemed like proof that someone somewhere was having a laugh at his expense. It was unbearable and if he could, he would end it. The truth kept coming back like a counterfeit note. He was paralyzed and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
They told him to pray until something happened. To PUSH. And yet, how could he? He had lost all control of his faculties. It was infuriating that all he had was his mind. And yet what good was that?
He watched as the caretaker drew the curtains in his room. She asked him if she could get him something. He tried to speak, all that came out was a slight grunt. For all intents and purposes, that wasn’t too bad. Some couldn’t manage that much. Hell, some were dead. And yet, here he lay. A vegetable.
Memories came flooding back in torrents he had no control over. It was a bad place to be. Reminiscent to being rooted to the spot, the spot in this case being the line of fire. He let them come and go as they pleased. He had to. It was all he had left,
His mistress had left him. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t. Why would anyone stick around with someone in this state.
They said love conquers all, that it lasts forever. They lied. It was love that put him here.
At 3:45pm, George moved a finger.
For one thing, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He could still see her soulless eyes looking back from the side mirror. She knew what she was doing. What she had done.
The memory of that afternoon was etched firmly in his memory. The pain; in his being. That he was alive seemed like proof that someone somewhere was having a laugh at his expense. It was unbearable and if he could, he would end it. The truth kept coming back like a counterfeit note. He was paralyzed and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
They told him to pray until something happened. To PUSH. And yet, how could he? He had lost all control of his faculties. It was infuriating that all he had was his mind. And yet what good was that?
He watched as the caretaker drew the curtains in his room. She asked him if she could get him something. He tried to speak, all that came out was a slight grunt. For all intents and purposes, that wasn’t too bad. Some couldn’t manage that much. Hell, some were dead. And yet, here he lay. A vegetable.
Memories came flooding back in torrents he had no control over. It was a bad place to be. Reminiscent to being rooted to the spot, the spot in this case being the line of fire. He let them come and go as they pleased. He had to. It was all he had left,
His mistress had left him. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t. Why would anyone stick around with someone in this state.
They said love conquers all, that it lasts forever. They lied. It was love that put him here.
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It had been 8 months since the accident, four since he woke from the comma, on this day he had an epiphany. He knew what he had to do. But it would take a lot of work. And will power. If life was a game of cards, he had been dealt a bad hand, but he was going to play on till the end. He would have his revenge. He reached deep within and gave it his all.At 3:45pm, George moved a finger.
11 Comments:
Mad crazy! Too funny. ROTFLMAO!!!
We shd serialise this!
Kept coming back like a counterfeit note. Hoy, hoy, hoy! Friggin' funny.
But more importantly, there is something sobering about someone giving it his all to move a finger. And it is a success. And it really does happen. In real life.
Now this, this right here, this is a fine one.
nice. nice.
question is this in any way a continuation to cherie's? reading back at cherie's post, i believe it is.
george just ain't gon die is he? i can see a nice drama unfolding here.
cherie, please do.
hey, this reads like cheris'. & your hero is george too. now i want to know what happened after he moved a finger.
but cherie will be miles away.... we cant wait for part 7 is it? and dont make it endless like those South American soaps watever they are called
hey. i really think u guys should do it like this. Cherie does her story and u do his.
So u decided to bring George to life....gonna kill him dead this time! Only magic will bring him back to life. Wait, I just gave u an idea...
@Cherie: there's a thought
@Comrade: thanks man,i'm not letting you off just yet...
@modo: he could be, some issues need to be ironed out first.
@CountryB: he lives on...soon.
@BeSilent: long? nuh, not likely...
@Dante: that's an excellent idea...Cherie?iam
i wanna have a cool template thingy too! hook me up. and i came to you Ivan, you! that should tell u something...
and if it don't. i read your posts like religiously, and i'm like your biggest fan, so blah blah blah, hook a sister up
Inky,you can't stoop so low!
You know Ivan will do it for u at whaéva cost.... He loves u.
Wooi! Wooi! N da curtains rolls up for: Revenge Time!!!
Me am shutting my eyes!!
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