You were involved in a terrible car accident and have been in a coma for the past three months. What your family and the doctors don’t know is that you can hear everything that they say. Write the scene.
Darkness. My entire body is entrenched, frozen by the darkness. The escaping light withdrew all of the feeling from within me. I laid motionless, paralyzed on the hospital bed. For the first time in my life, I was forced to listen without responding. I was forced to swallow my own words, because I had none.
The noise came back again. It was a noise that I was too familiar with, hearing it all my life. It was the sound of my mother’s tears ricocheting off of the floor. I heard them when dad ran off with his younger girlfriend. I heard it when I got expelled from school. I heard it when I yelled back at her. It was a noise that I was ashamed to be accustomed to.
“Please baby, I need you to wake up!” my mother cried. All I wanted to was to reach out and grab her hand. I wanted her to let her know that I was still here. I wanted to apologize for putting her through everything she had endured. I wanted to apologize for being a failure of a son. I wanted to wipe her tears away and tell her that everything was going to be fine like I should have a long time ago, but I could not. This was God’s way of punishing me, forcing me to finally realize what my mother has been going through her entire life.
Suddenly, all of the noises began to fade. The weeping, the thumping sound of my heart beat, the periodic beeping from the heart-monitor. Time itself began to slow down. The beeping of the heart-monitor oozed back into the back of my head, only this time there were no breaks; there was one continuous beep that pierced through my eardrums. It was the end.