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The Cure To Growing Older (Requesting feedback.)
Disgusting. Yes, that's what they are. Slack jawed, blank eyed, their once supple skin now too big for them as their very bodies waste away from the inside out.
Revolting. Their entire bodies are covered with the dark, dirty brands of old age. The air reeks of it. Most of them can barely ask for the most mandatory of things, like food, water. Disgusting. Blemishes on the face of society and they know it. There are no mirrors in this place "They have no need to beautify themselves"Matron once said, but they can't bear the shame of their existence, so they sit and rot. pretending to lose all sense of themselves when they know all too well what they have become and they despise it. They sit around all day, in a "favourite" chair surrounded by the smell of decay, and sometimes, their own waste. Is this what mankind, the so-called "peak" of evolution is fated to become? These, these, monstrosities? No. It will not happen to me. I make my own destiny. I will not turn into one of those poor miserable souls, day and night seeing the plastic smiles that hide the disgust of the young, watching as the visitors-friends and family members, mostly- stop coming, letters only from big businesses who lack the common courtesy of waiting until you have passed on to steal your money. I watch them, and I see lonely tears fall silently as they lament what they have become. I watch and I mourn them. The lucky ones pass on in their sleep and leave this place, I was there when one was being taken out. "Poor thing" The Experts said, and began to list what she died of, but I, I know otherwise. She died of heartache. Brought on by being forgotten and rejected by those who should love her -her children and grandchildren. The younger generation. I remember seeing a faint smile on her cold, shriveled lips. Death had brought her happiness. It was then I realized what I needed to do. I had become a nurse to help others to be happy again. |
Nightfall approaches now, and they are herded, like cattle, towards their rooms. Always the same time, ("It helps them if they have a routine", Matron said) And none of them get to stay up past that time. ("You can't have one rule for some and not for others", She explained) God I hate that woman. Her brisk attitude. Her cheery ways. What right has she to be happy when those around her are in such a sorry state?
I sit tapping my fingers on the table at the nurses station and the taste of understanding is bitter in my mouth. Her! She is the one that is doing it to them! And those arrogant, cocky doctors. The "experts". I wring my hands with worry and rock with the force of this horrendous realization. I must save them! All of them. I begin tonight. 23:49. I wait until the other nurses are asleep, I volunteered to do the waking night, the "graveyard shift" the newbies call it. It wasn't difficult to swap my shift with Julie, one of the younger nurses. She had a young son to look after anyway. I could almost see the relief flooding her eyes as I suggested swapping the shift. Silently, like the ghost of one of the residents, I make my way towards the medicine cabinet. I check the time; 23:55. Five minutes 'til midnight, the witching hour. When the first of my patients will find release. I start with Mr Morris. On the brink of death. It had become a joke of sorts with the others to ask " Is he dead yet?" Evoking chuckles from their "audience". Repugnant creatures. At one minute to twelve I up his dose. His body jolts as his soul surges towards freedom. His breath becomes more and more ragged as his withered frame loses the fight. A smile of satisfaction spreads across my face as his body stills and his features take on a peaceful expression. Success! I note down the time of death at midnight and slowly walk to alert the other nurses. Standard procedure. It feels so good to help people. The nurses all rush up to the bedside, But I linger a moment, under the pretence of sorting out his things- family contacts and personal papers. Everyone else will be notified in the morning. I use this time to think. I realize if the other nurses knew what I was doing, they would try to stop me. They like to keep them in this state. They Like the sense of power. For me, the simple pleasure of helping others is enough. |
II
There was something on the news today that gave me a scare. There was a doctor on the news today, single-handedly responsible for releasing over one hundred souls! Glorious! you might think, but no, the rest of the world refuses to see him as we do. To them, he is not shown as the hero he really is but a- a common murderer! How, how, I ask you, can the easing of the pain of the elderly be murder? He saved them! I tap the 'off' button on the remote with my finger and fling it down, revolted. *** I've been following his case for days. There have been lots of testimonies. None of them were by an elderly person. It's all they talk about at work. Away from the patients of course. They get so hysterical about it, but all Matron had to say was "There are a lot of evil people in this world.". Too true. It's my day off and the jury's been out for days. I lay on the couch, cuddling my remote and cushion. How could they? Trying him as a common criminal! Where is the justice? I watch teary eyed as he walks in, with a regal bearing, suffering the torment of those that would keep the aged in squalor. Fools. He is calm. Sure that they will see the light. They must. I tense my body and my throat is suddenly parched as the jury files in, faces grim. In my mind I could see them saying " So Sorry, this has all been a big misunderstanding, you're a hero!" But that was not to be. "...Guilty." the foreman had said. "No! NO!" I screamed at them, but the judge, unhearing, passed judgment. "...I hereby sentence you death..." Those words echoed in my mind. Why? Through my tears, I saw him being led away, crying silently into his graying beard. It reminded me of a song my mother used to sing to me..."They thowed him in jail and they left him there, hoping soon he'd die, that his body and spirit would waste away and soon after that his mind..." I collapsed into uncontrollable sobbing, there alone in my flat. The world was a cruel place. |
I redoubled my efforts. Now, I'm almost constantly doing waking nights, constantly releasing a soul. Last week was my tenth. A woman by the name of Mrs Kirk. A morphine addict. It wasn't too difficult to send her on her way. As I walked towards the Nurse's station, I was overwhelmed with tears. The others thought it was tears of sadness, but no, it was the feeling of happiness from helping so many people.
Monday morning, the start of the week, and I was ready to face the days and nights ahead. Matron was the first person I saw, looking very sympathetic. "I heard about Mrs Kirk. Poor dear. I don't think you should work the night shifts anymore." I was stunned. I stood there staring at her. "What? No! So many still need help!", I screamed at her. She and the doctors were up to something. Keeping the elderly down. No. I would not let them. NO. Matron stared at me questioningly, but I walked away. *** 23:59. Soon. Soon. It had been quite a few months since I started my work, and having Matron on my case meant I had to slow down for a while. Old Ms Anderson. She would have the honour of being my twentieth freed soul. And on the anniversary of my first too! She was having an IV drip, so there was no need to get chemicals involved, just a syringe of air should do it. I bent over, slowly, lovingly, and inserted the needle into the plastic tube. just as I was about to depress the plunger, I heard the floor creak behind me, and a felt firm grip on my shoulder. I glanced up and to my horror; Matron was standing glancing down at me woefully. She dragged me to my feet, and marched me over to the door. Waiting in the gloomy corridor were the police. "No,no." I moaned repeatedly. *** I glanced up at the Judge, but I didn't know who, or where I was. I could hear myself saying "All I did was set them free..." but He did not seem to care. I glanced into my lap and noticed my hands were cuffed. Strange. How did they get there? They took me to a cell. I heard rumours of my death. But I did not understand, so I thought no more about it. 23:30. I was awoken by a man in black. A man of the cloth. "Is it my time Father? Have I done well?" I asked. He smiled ruefully and laid a hand on my forehead. He mumbled a prayer on my behalf. He then led me by the hand out of the cell, and wordlessly handed me over to the guards. I walked with them silently, down a long dark corridor. Other inmates stared at me and shook their heads slowly. I was made to sit on a hard cold chair and they shaved my head. They strapped me in tightly, then most of them left. 23:59. I, who had set so many free, would soon be free too. A wide smile lit up my face. ~End~ |
changes: Blemishes on the face of society and they know it. There are no mirrors in this place. "They have no need to beautify themselves," Matron once said, but they can't bear the shame of their existence, so they sit and rot.
so-called grandchildren I love her contempt for her peers realize you might think, but no, the rest of the world refuses to see him as we do. To them, he is not shown as the hero he really is but a- a common murderer! Away from the patients, of course. his graying beard. I’m assuming throwed fits the song better than threw does, but still ..."They throwed him [in?] jail and they judgment . The world Quote:
my horror; Waiting in the gloomy corridor who, or where I heads slowly. I was made I really like how you got inside her head, and kept her consistant. |
Thanks. And yeah, the lyrics of the song were "throwed" I checked.Yeah, I know a whole syringe is way too much, but I used that to represent just how eager she is.
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