My first prompt response - it is a little different, a little experimental, not my usual style. It can take many different forms, depending on how you look at it.
Prompt at the end.
Hope you like it
She remembers the gunfire… The same sound that still wakes
her, cold and shivering at night.
The sound like a jackhammer tearing into the road. Bullets
tearing into concrete, into flesh.
She can still feel the acrid smoke burning her nose; an insidious
spectre permeating her lungs, screaming nothing but warning.
‘Multiple shots fired!
Possible bomb on-‘
She remembers the sound. Loud and low and terrifying. As if
the very air was being ripped apart.
‘GET OUT OF THERE!’
She remembers the static. The insistent words struggling to
break through it… shouting, fighting.
‘The building – we’re
losing the building!’
She can’t remember the face of the person who saw her first….
But she remembers the pressure of their hand… tight.. tight on her forearm.
‘Doctor Isles, I’m not
sure now is the-‘
She remembers the sound of her own voice, the way it snapped through
the air like a rattlesnake, striking out.
‘I am a doctor.’
The way it faltered at the agonising truth.
‘I need to be here-‘
She remembers the dust, as it settled in the air in
seemingly suspended animation, before suddenly and silently it was blanketing everything… the vehicles and the people
and the rubble…
….She remembers the rubble. The fear that gripped her when
she saw it…
…The tangled mess of the ground floor. The feel of the
stones giving way under her feet as she scrambled, lurched across the ruins of
what once was the central bank before-
‘Dr Isles! Wait!’
-It suddenly wasn’t.
She remembers the screams, the shouts of people desperate,
desolate. Her own mingled with them. But where theirs was a cacophony of
orders, updates, calls for help. Hers was only one name…
The way her gut twisted the moment she knew…
-And the moment she saw-
‘Here! We got
…She remembers the moment she saw her.
The way the beams criss-crossed her broken body, trapping
her against the only remnant intact concrete slab… the greatest insult
construction could ever provide.
The way the name tumbled one more time from her lips- clumsy,
slipping painfully past the boulder of grief lodged in her chest.
‘Oh God.. Jane.’
She remembers the way her name sounded, so soft, so distant…
She remembers…. She remembers… the blood.
And God.. God… the
way her name sounded, coughed out around the crimson that stained the concrete.
The way it spilled from her lips, trickling into the dust.
The way her medical training, having served her for more
than a decade – the same training that had framed her career, her entire life… suddenly became an oppressive
enemy; one which she did everything in her power not to listen to. One she
begged her inner self to ignore.
She remembers the feeling of her heart breaking, as a dirty,
bloody hand reached for her, amidst the chaos of emergency service personnel
crawling all around, whispering words of hope-
‘I’m glad you’re
-where there was none.
‘…think I’m in
The way her cheeks burned with stubborn tears.
She remembers the sound of her breath, short and wheezing
and all too shallow.
‘Don’t… look at me
She remembers… she remembers…
…the way she said no.
How she shook her head, closed her eyes, and how the word
charged from her mouth like the greatest challenge she had ever set.
The way she opened them again, for the very first time unguarded,
Meaning ‘You need to see.’
need to know.’
A hand squeezes hers tightly. She can feel the dirt and grit
between her fingers. The blood smeared over her palm.
“What’re you thinking?”
The way the voice, so close and so calm near her ear makes
her breathe differently. Makes her…
‘I can’t, Jane.’
She shakes her head, closes her eyes, turns away.
The feeling of a tiny sliver of metal against the back of
her hand… It presses into her skin, reminding her, grounding her.
“I can’t, Jane…” She
“I won’t, Jane.”
She remembers the life flickering, barely present in the
same eyes that study her now. Tears burn
her cheeks as hotly as they did when-
“Don’t look at me like that…”
Her breath catches.
But this time, it is spoken with an easy smile. This time,
it is a warm hand that brushes her cheek.
“I’m here, Maur.” Comes the voice, strong and sure and present. “I’m right here.”
It would be the thousandth time she has heard it. The
thousandth time it has been spoken.
But as the music starts-
She nods ever-slightly, feeling the promise of forever, in
the gold now wrapped around her own finger.
She allows herself to be pulled forward, allows strong,
familiar arms to encase her body, allows the gentle breath to wash past her
ear, allows the aroma of apple and spice calm her… ground her.
As the music starts-
“Don’t look at me like
“Dance with me-“
Prompt: hownowwit1 - A quote prompt: “Don’t look at me like that”
Wit, hope it was okay :)