Throughout the Ceative Writing Course, we were instructed to keep a journal with writing ideas. This was one of my journal entries for a possible story start or middle:

Seeing is Believing

Somewhere in the deep, thick fog, Brendan could hear swishing, hissing and beeping. It annoyed him. Why couldn’t someone turn that alarm off? It was keeping him awake. At least he thought he was awake, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. They wouldn’t open. Had someone taped them closed? He was too tired to care. “Doctor, I think he’s awake,” a soft melodical voice drifted in his head as he slipped back into the blackness where he felt no pain.

When he surfaced again, the beeping sounded familiar. Was it a heart monitor? No, it couldn’t be. He’d hurt his leg. He had to get up. He had to see. Was it still there? He pried his eyes open at the same time he tried to sit up. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” the nurse put one hand on his chest and reached for the call button with the other. “Please alert Dr. Bienvenu that Mr. Boyles is awake and combative.” She spoke to the voice that came across the speaker; then she used both hands to try to hold the patient down.

“I need to see.” Brendan screamed. At least he tried to scream, but only a gravelly, pleading sound came out. “Le’ me up.” He pushed weakly at her hands.

“Mr. Boyles, please calm down before you hurt yourself or pull you IV’s. Everything is alright. You’re safe. You’re at Mercy. You were in an accident at work. Do you remember?” Her voice had lost its melodic quality. Brendan could only hear her voice as an interruption to his plan to see his leg. Her voice droned on and on like static in his ears.

“What’s going on in here?” Dr. Bienvenu moved quickly to the bedside and put his strong hands on Brendan’s shoulders. “Calm down Mr. Boyles. Let me help you. What seems to be the problem. Are you in pain?”

“My leg. I need to see it. I have to know.” Brendan continued to struggle.

“Here, let me help you sit up a little.” Dr. Bienvenu slid his arm behind Brendan’s shoulders and lifted him slightly. “It’s there, see?”

Brendan grabbed at the doctor’s free arm and held on with all the strength he could muster. He leaned his head against the man’s shoulder and stared at the wrapped appendage hanging from a traction device. He commanded his brain to wiggle his toes, but they didn’t move, or at least he didn’t see them move. “I can’t feel it?”

“That’s just the nerve block you received in surgery. It will wear off soon, and you’ll wish you still couldn’t feel it.” The good doctor teased; he had a sense of humor. As he teased, he lowered Brendan back to the pillows.
“Now, I think you need to try to rest. Do you need something to help you sleep?”

Brendan let the doctor ease him back down. Before his head hit the pillow, his breathing had evened out and sleep had claimed him.

3/21/16