Writers Ramble

I lay here day in day out. Trapped within and never moving. I can't - I'm trapped. My fixed gaze never falters in showing me the grid of ceiling tiles and part burnt light fitting directly overhead both are now familiar to me. I never move no matter how much they prod and probe. I can't. I'm trapped. The endless testing the endless repetitive drone of those who care' for me.

I have never moved once in all this time. But they overlook me. I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm just - trapped. Why can't they see?

For the first time in many long months I can hear her sobbing loudly above the incessantly steady beeping of the monitor; it's sad but somehow comforting. I can smell her perfume, distinct and fresh in the clinical air. I can't see her; I can only feel her grief.

A sudden sensation - it's her finger tip's touch on my arm. I want to hold her so much. I want to scream her name. Wait. I can hear others.

"It's time" a distant voice, almost a phantom.

She's getting up from the chair. I can just see the tip of her hair - her forehead. Her tear streaked red eyes and her perfect nose. Her sweet, sweet lips all sad and crumpled. I want to hold her now more than ever - to tell her how much I care. How much I love her, that we'll make it, together somehow.

She's slowly getting closer. Closer. Closer. She's studying every line and crease in my face - as if recording it.

I can feel her hot sweet breath on my face. It is so exquisite after all this time.

Her moist red lips gently brush against my own, then suddenly they press me passionately back into the pillow.

I want to hold her and squeeze her and kiss her back so much it hurts. But I can't. I can't move.

"Switch off the respirator nurse" the distant voice orders "I assure you Mrs Daniels he feels nothing, he's already gone. This is just a shell."

The beeping faltered running out as a continuous tone. I can sense her kiss linger, even more fiercely than before. I can feel her tears on my face, the salt water in my eyes. I can feel her grip on my arm. No. don't do this. Don't leave me. I'm here. I'm alive. We'll make it. Don't go. I'm aliv.