Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Guest Post: Short Story: The Wooden Bridge

Please help me welcome today's guest blogger, Gannopy Blakney-Urena: 

"I need to be guarding my bridge!" I yelled, as guards were pulling me away, my feet making a coarse sound on the ground as I watched my wooden bridge grow further away. I felt my muscles tighten as I tried to get back to my beautiful bridge. But the guards responded with tightening their grip, and my foot started kicking in a desperate struggle. All of a sudden, the world went black.

I opened my eyes, and closed them again, not wanting to expose them to the dull gray of the room. Old memories flooded back from when I was here before. I quickly tried to direct my thoughts somewhere else. I did not need to think about that horrible stretch of my life. But I couldn't. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I know, it's weird to have a small woman like me living under a bridge, and I've probably yelled some pretty odd things. But I'm not crazy. I know that. I don't even know much about the bridge anyway. It was still a mystery to me, how a world like that could fit inside a minuscule bridge. But the most important thing I knew, and probably all I needed to know, was that I needed to guard my bridge. No matter what it took. I heard an annoying tapping as a pink-clad nurse came in view of my eyes.

"Hello, Bianca, how are you today?" The nurse put on a sugary tone that got on my nerves. How did she know my name anyway? I didn't tell her. Or maybe they took a DNA sample of me when I was knocked out. Aren't they supposed to ask permission for that?

"How do you know my name?" I replied coldly. I wasn't going to take this annoying sugary-voiced lady for granted. Her unusually-white teeth glinted at me while her blue eyes were rolling around like a searchlight.

"Dear, don't you know it's standard procedure to take DNA of all patients who enter a mental hospital?" She was looking more like a Barbie than ever. She was even blonde.

"Aren't you supposed to ask permission for that?" My brows pulled together in fury.

"Dear, we are in a mental hospital. Half the patients don't know what they are saying half the time."

Adrenaline was now pumping through me harder than ever. Why was this nurse affecting me so much? "Well I know no matter what you say, I am not crazy, and you are not going to decide that for me."

The nurse was raising her eyebrows high, and they were in danger of disappearing in her bleach-blonde bangs.

"Ooh, temper, temper, I'm afraid we will have to take care of that."

And before I knew what was happening, my eyes detected a silver glint, my nerves a second of pain, and my mind went blank.

My brain was still sensing what was around my body, but unfortunately it could not pull together a string of thought, verbal or otherwise. Finally my mind found a hold and my brain began supplying my vocal cords with vibration patterns, but with difficulty.

"How dare you, er, drug me when you don't have the right? I did not assault you and I was, er, merely speaking the truth." I finished with beads of sweat on my forehead.

"Well, dear," the nurse had the outrageous nerve to say, "who says you have the right to speak the truth displayed by your mind?"

And there was another glint of silver; another second of pain, and the world went black.

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