Writing Solitary People

[eleanor]

[color=firebrick] I'm at my dad's office right now and I wrote this after finding nothing to do. :/ It's a first draft, so there's probably more tweaking I should do later.[/color]

Andrew couldn?t say he ever didn?t like hospitals. From his mind, he could not recall a time that he was really afraid of the placid white walls and the picture of doctors and nurses walking, sometimes running, from place to place.

Andrew closed his eyes and sprawled out on the waiting chair. ?It?s in all the books. He never liked hospitals, or it was something like the smell of medicine haunted him. I mean, what the hell, I can?t even smell any medicine.? The young man shifted about uncomfortably, pulling his jacket closer around his body. After squeezing his eyes, he peered around the room and saw various grim faces staring at nothing in particular.

There was a fat Indian lady in the corner, sitting squarely on the chair, her large mouth pulled into a most unwelcoming frown. Her black eyes looked tired and weary and her forehead was creased with large wrinkles and big lumps that Andrew decided not to stare at. A frail, white woman with an expensive looking scarf sitting some seats away, trying to look as uppity as possible as she examined her nails. A timid old man with large glasses flipping nervously through a Housekeeping magazine. Andrew had long since looked through most of the appealing magazines stacked on the gray table, and had even flipped through a Vogue magazine out of sheer boredom and curiosity. ?Maybe I am going insane,? Andrew had muttered to himself and he slid the thick magazine back into the stack as someone eyed him strangely. He remembered dozing off here and there, only to wake up to see that nothing had changed. Andrew half expected some pregnant woman to come running in shrieking like a bat out of hell, or maybe a drive-by victim. Andrew almost sniggered as he imagined an old man stumbling in because he had taken an overdose of Viagra. Andrew eventually got tired of pondering that particular subject and fidgeted with a fountain pen he had found. One of those nice ones that doctors always used. He pulled his pullover over his head and smashed into the back of his chair, having found nothing else to do. The chair started squeaking. Andrew twiddled the pen between his fingers for ten minutes or so, sometimes dropping it with a tiny thud against the carpeted floor. Andrew abruptly got up and sat right in the middle of the room. No one glanced his way.

He was sitting on a million peoples? footsteps. It felt oddly satisfying.

A toddler had managed to crawl away from her mother?s grip and cautiously walk around Andrew in a wildly uneven circle. He hadn?t noticed him before. Where was his mother? Yank. ?Come here!? Oh, there she was. Andrew ran his hand through his hair and sighed, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees. A hacking cough split the still air, a young man bent over as he covered his mouth with some spare tissues. His green face looked wet and ill, his eyes red with exhaustion. His whole body seemed to shake, his small hands covering his face as he knelt even further. A heavy woman bustled in, fawning over the sick boy as he coughed once more. Andrew turned his face to see a teenage girl sitting rather un ?lady like as she placed some earphones over her head. She gave a sneer to Andrew and leaned back. A young boy sat slouched on the edge of his seat, swinging his short legs back and forth as he sucked greedily on a red lollipop. Hadn?t Andrew seen them before? And what about that black man sitting with his legs crossed? The Asian family standing uncertainly in ragged clothes that seemed ages old. The elderly man with the long beard, playing his harmonica? Had he seen them? Didn?t he notice them before? Was he blind? Was he seeing things?

The room got smaller, the sweat of people drifted in the air, the murmurings of worried family members rose to a dull roar, a cry of a child reverberating across the walls. Hands moving, limbs twitching, mouths moving. Feet tapping. Up and down, up and down. Clothes brushing up against his body, his forehead sweating uncomfortably as he shifted around the myriad of people. Andrew?s mouth felt enclosed, as if he was breathing out of a plastic bag and he was taking in the last bit of oxygen. His eyes felt sore, barely making out the outlines of the human bodies, his legs felt like lead, his arms felt like soggy towels.

Where was his jacket again? Oh, yes.

The jacket. ?My jacket!? Andrew thought loudly to himself. Push away the people, slide through the narrow openings. His arm came up and roughly pushed a girl away, his leg reaching out through a hole of escape. His skin brushed harshly against another?s, his clothes stuck to him with perspiration. He was naked. His bare body skimmed through the multitudes of dying people. Dying. Dying? Maybe. Yes. No. Dead? He wasn?t sure.

A large hand.

***

He still didn?t ever think about hating hospitals. He was afraid, of course. Spotless white walls. Not one stain, not one mark, not one dent. The strong smell of antibiotics and medicine, that clean odor of nothing. He looked so dirty. He was dirty.
A doctor stood, towering over Andrew. His head seemed enlarged and distant.

?Mr. Jowel.? Andrew twisted his head away.

?Mr. Jowel.? ?What.?

?Are you awake? Mr. Jowel. Mr. Jowel.? Andrew opened his eyes, a white light burning into his eyes. He turned his head. The doctor looked at him strangely and fidgeted with the fountain pen.

?I?m sorry to say your mother?did not make it through the operation. She-?? The doctor hesitated. Andrew sat silently, his head staring at the floor again. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. Andrew shuddered and cupped his hands together. He looked up and scanned the waiting room. It seemed no one was there. What time was it again? 4:00 AM. The doctor looked at him expectedly.

?Where?s my jacket??

[color=firebrick] I guess some people will understand it and others won't. I don't think I should really explain anything this time because...*shrugs* It's just a drabble I came up with.[/color]