Frank, my twin, was always such a pessimist. Even as a kid, nothing was good enough for him. But as an adult his negativity turned its glaring eyes on me. He would spit at me over the phone, calling me worthless and creepy. I’d scoff. Look in the mirror, Frank. But when he turned on Martha, that was a bridge too far.
I plucked a white rose from the bouquet on his table and painted it red in the puddle on the floor. Martha would be home soon. She’s going to love what I’ve done.
I’m optimistic.
Tag: creative writing
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James was on his last ambulance run of the night. Technically, his shift ended an hour ago, but the bell rang within the last five minutes of his shift, and his replacement hadn’t shown up yet. 12-hour shifts were grueling, and he had begun to feel a twinge of resentment towards Sarah, as this was the third time that month he had been forced to work after his shift ended because she was late.
This call was about a potential heart attack. When he and his partner arrived, the man was responsive, but his wife had claimed he had been complaining of sharp chest pain. Usually, he would have just taken him to the smaller local hospital to be monitored. But with his irregular pulse and complaints of dizziness, they decided to take him to a hospital with a cath lab just to be safe. You can’t take chest pain lightly.
Just as he pulled up to the hospital, the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his short breaths became silent. The ECC monitor began to alert as the line evened out and then darted up and down chaotically, indicating V-Fib. The loose sweatshirt he had pulled down to put on the sticky pads for the ECC was cut open with shears, and his partner parked the ambulance, then rushed into the back to help me set up the AED.
The doors to the back of the ambulance flew open, and ER nurses helped them move the man into a room, immediately starting CPR. After 26 minutes, he was pronounced dead.
James went straight to work cleaning and reorganizing the back of the ambulance so he could go home as soon as he got back. On the floor in the ambulance’s corner, he noticed an odd-looking device. It was a small hourglass like the ones you get in the box of tabletop games, but it was made of heavy metal, and the sand inside was black. He figured it had probably fallen from someone’s pocket.
Maybe, he figured, one of the nurses was a DnD nerd who used it as a timer for medication administration or something. All the sand was on one side of the hourglass, but no matter how hard he shook it or what angle he tilted it at, the sand wouldn’t flow to the other side. With a shrug, he slipped it into his pocket and looked out the back window, hoping he would be one of the cars out on the road very soon.
Back at the station, now two hours over his scheduled time, Sarah was happily whistling while scrolling on her social media, a cup of midnight coffee in her other hand. She glanced up at him with a beaming smile as his partner clocked out and slipped out the back door.“You were out pretty late. Huh?” she asked.
James nodded, “And you were pretty late, yourself.”
He could see her smile fade a bit as she returned to her phone. He knew she was struggling as a new paramedic, and was honestly surprised she stayed on after throwing up at one of the scenes a few weeks back.
“Here,” he pulled the hourglass out of his pocket with a smirk, “Maybe this can help you keep the time.”
“You’re too kind,” she said, rolling her eyes. She picked up the mini hourglass and flipped it. The black sand began to seep through to the other side.
“Huh. Weird, I couldn’t get it to work earlier…”
The chief stepped in, his face all red with stress, “Sorry to break up the gift giving, James. Glad you are back. I hate to do this to you, but Mike called out with COVID, so I’ll need you to extend from 12 hrs to 24 hrs. But I’ll make sure to give you a full 24 hrs off before your next shift.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he grumbled, plopping down on one of the leather couches in the den.
Just as he did, the alarm went off again. This time, it was for a car crash.
“Ugh! Can’t people stop trying to die for like 10 minutes?!” He jumped up from the couch, grabbed his medic bag, and hopped in the driver’s seat of the ambulance. Sarah climbed in next to him on the passenger side. She was silent, looking down in her lap at the little hourglass, watching the sand fall.
“James?”
“Hmm?”
“Did that lady die because I couldn’t stomach going into that room to help her?”
James sighed. “No, Sarah. You can’t think like that. This job…this job is tough. You know? She was probably going to die anyway with those injuries. We can’t always be superheroes. Sometimes, it’s out of our control.” He tapped on the hourglass, “And sometimes, the time is just up. All we can do is say that we did our best.”She nodded. The sand emptied all the way to the other side, and she flipped it again, but it got stuck again. He returned his gaze to the road, navigating some busier intersections as best he could.
“The sand got stuck on me, too.”
“I guess time’s up,” Sarah chuckled, smiling at him gratefully.
Suddenly, there were blinding lights, the blaring of a semi truck horn, and everything went black.
James woke up in a bright white room to the sound of beeping monitors and a pounding in his head. His body felt bruised and broken, and Sarah was nowhere to be seen. He looked at the table beside his bed to see a medical chart with his name on it beside the hourglass. The black sand was flowing, but it had almost run out. -
I never believed in the Lollipop Man. He was just one of those Boogeymen that the bullies would use to try to make us cry on the playground. Their taunt started:
“The Lollipop Man drives an ice cream van
And travels from town to town.
He offers you sweets
But if you eat his treats
He’ll bury you in the ground.”
The boys would always start that stupid song every time we heard an ice cream truck from the blacktop. It never worked on me, though. Like Bloody Mary, I knew he was fake. Only kids believed in monsters. And I wasn’t a kid anymore. I could use the microwave by myself, I had a cell phone, and I could even walk to my friend’s house by myself.
And that’s what I was doing when it happened.
I was on my way to Melody’s house to work on our science project. It was almost spring, so I chose to break out my favorite plaid skirt that day instead of those ugly khaki uniform pants. But it wasn’t quite warm enough yet, and the wind was biting my knees.
Uniforms were just one of the things I hated about St. Mary’s School. Another thing I hated was Lent. I’d given up sugar again, which seemed easy enough, but after days of no soda, no cookies, and no candy, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it to Holy Thursday. They said this was supposed to help me get closer to Jesus or something.
I could hear the circus music of the truck as it crept up the road behind me. My stomach ached, but I pulled out my phone and pretended to text, hoping it would just pass me by.
But it stopped.
“Good afternoon, little lady.” The man smiled at me. His gaze felt warm and inviting, and I couldn’t help but smile back as I caught a glimpse of his colorful clown outfit. He wasn’t wearing any clown makeup, though, which I found a bit strange. And he was strange-a stranger. I loved sweets, so I knew every ice cream man in town. But I’d never seen him before.
“Hello,” I replied politely, just as my mother had taught me. Then I looked back down at my phone and continued to walk to Melody’s.
“Do you want to buy a treat?”
“Um…it’s too cold for ice cream. Thanks.” I kept walking.
“I don’t sell ice cream, silly goose. I sell candy.” He was leaning out of the window, smiling at me with perfect white teeth.
My stomach growled, and I stopped. My mouth watered at the thought of it. I could hear Sister Agatha’s voice in my head: ‘Never fall for temptations, they always lead to sin.’
“That’s okay, thanks. Besides, I don’t have any money.” I forced my gaze back to the glowing screen on my phone and shuffled down the sidewalk away from the clown and his candy.
I did have money. That was a lie. And lying was a sin, too.
“Well, alright then. But I can’t stand to see a kid without any sweets. How about a sucker on the house?”
I looked around at our quiet suburban street for anyone who might see me break my Lent sacrifice. My mother would be so mad at me if she knew.
As if he could read my mind, he chuckled, “No parents here. It’s just a sucker, kid. Here. Have a nice day.”
He held up a bright pink lollipop the size of a large strawberry. It was so pretty and delicious-looking. I couldn’t help myself.
I took it.
He smiled as I brought it to my lips and put it in my mouth. The sweet sugar melted on my tongue. But then..suddenly…it was as if the sucker was made of glue. It stuck to my cheeks, my lips, my tongue. I tried to pull it out, but I couldn’t. It ripped at my mouth, and I could taste blood. Hot burning tears ran down my cheeks as I tried to scream, but it came out quiet and muffled.
The man reached down and pulled me up into the truck like I weighed nothing. He threw me on the floor with a thud as my head hit the metal floor, making me dizzy. Then he quickly got behind the wheel and started driving away. The circus music began to play again.
I yanked on the candy and tried to peel my lips away, but it was no use. I was beginning to see stars, and everything felt like it was fading to black, as my eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing I remember was the second verse of that horrible playground rhyme floating through my mind:
“Take one lick, and you’ll never stop.
And all they’ll find is a lollipop.”
And that’s all they ever found of me, too.
Kent Juniper 