Music to my ears

Please feel free to comment on this.  Your feedback would be appreciated.  Thanks.

“She’s catatonic. We’re not quite sure why.” Disembodied words drift into my mind.

For those around me, I am to all intents and (medical) purposes locked into a vegetative state, brain-dead. Inside I live. And listen.

Music plays in the background. Someone has brought in my iPod and speakers, thinking to soothe me. But I listen for something – to something else – just beyond the music. I listen to the cue. Click.

“There’s no response. We’ve done so many tests. No response from her whatsoever. I’m so sorry, there’s nothing more that we can do. Perhaps we should consider switching…”

Eyes flicker behind shadows, belying the diagnoses of doctors. I am condemned by those who will soon know better.

“Should we consider moving her to another hospital? We can afford to pay. We have insurance that will cover it.”

My father’s strained words reach me. I hear him breathe heavily, trying to control himself, to hold back the tears.

“Well there is a place, I’m just not sure they’d take her. I’ll make a call and try. If you’d like to wait here, I won’t be long.”

Click. A door closes.

Again I hear the subliminal sound. Minutes pass as it bores its way into my brain until I hear the final note completing the sequence. The call to battle.

Click. A door opens.

“Yes, you’re in luck… they said they’d take……”

The words falter and stop.

In the room there is silence. The eerie silence you get when the monster within finally explodes out and kills.   The silence of shock and horror that is unable to utter a word or scream.


Last week two – no three – things happened that are writing related that put a big smile on my face.  This may sound like blowing my own trumpet and that is not something I’m particularly comfortable with, so bear with me.

First: I got a rejection from an online magazine for a piece of poetry I’d submitted.  Fair comment, it probably didn’t work for that particular magazine.  It may for the next one.  At least I’d heard back very quickly which was nice.  Did it sting?  No, not really.  I guess it’s always the chance you take when you put your work out there.  Did the piece suck?  I’ve no idea, but I’m putting it to one side for the moment.  The important thing was that I had tried.

Second: I submitted a short piece as part of the #geowriting September-long writing-fest in response to a geographical prompt.  See here for more information.  It was really nice to be accepted and featured online.  Even nicer was someone contacted me on Twitter to say they had liked the piece.

Third: I felt encouraged by the acceptance to try out a short horror story I’d submitted elsewhere and been knocked back about.  I popped it on here and publicised it on Twitter a couple of times.  Some “favourited” the piece, some re-tweeted, and some said they liked it.  What a lovely boost to my writing confidence.

So why am I blogging about it now?

Well, if I read a book that I really like, I now try to find the author, whether on Facebook or (more likely) on Twitter to say thank you.  It doesn’t take much to do and I know how happy I felt last week on receiving the positive feedback.

Please, if you really like a book or a blog or something literary (like a poem), say thank you.  It makes the author/writer/scribbler so very, very happy.