Crushed Head Faeda
When I feel a little lost I like to sink into bed and let myself be hypnotized by hospital routine. It takes me back to my early childhood a few weeks ago when the only place my bewildered mind could find comfort was in the clockstep march of the nurses' schedule.
And so this morning I didn't get up. I sat in bed and watched the world unfold.
Weeks ago when my words still failed me I witnessed these events like an animal -- reading posture, smelling sweat. We were watered and fed, tended and turned by a regular cycle of familiar faces, young women and men and robots with warm hands and soothing voices. Their every exchange was a wonder to me, and I struggled to lend meaning to it all using the only cues I could: micro-movements, shifts in weight, twitches in the face, flicks of the eyes, catches in the breath...
With language's return ward life gained a certain amount of chewable context.
By careful attention I learned that Nurse Hiwai had a new lover even before she told Nurse Wennel, and then Nurse Wennel told everybody else. I knew Nurse Randa alternately loved and hated Dr. Pent, and I felt the bloom of bad news waft down the hall a full quarter hour before they came to tell poor Omefrey his wife hadn't survived the crash.
After breakfast they fluff our pillows, up one row of beds and then down the other...
Dear friends,
It's happened at last: the no-cost, weblog version of this science-fiction novel has been taken offline in order to make room for the hard-cover printed edition from Ephemera Bound Publishing, on sale in stores and on-line starting Valentine's Day, 2008.
I regret any frustration. I kept the free version available as long as I could. Do be sure to check out the new edition! See Cheeseburger Brown.com for more news and updates.
Love,
Cheeseburger Brown
P.S. You can read more of my free fiction via my weblog or in the complete story achives.
15 Comments:
Nice, I love sci-fi and this looks wonderful. Great premise, nice characterization.
Loved the ending, i´m very curious about where this is going
A reader from Portugal
That was beautiful.
My sister is wrestling with what could euphemistically be called a brain injury and I wonder: if she could have her old self back, would she?
I should shut up now since she's probably going to read this. And want to peel my throat.
"Her good eye sparkled. "I will piss on your face," she promised." quality line! I'd love to know where you get your inspiration for your writing, it's brilliant... Looking forward to tomorrow's instalment :)
Simon sucks, bring back Vader!
Dear Anonymous,
I find your lack of faith disturbing.
Sincerely,
D. Vader
Rather than reiterating all the compliments that have been heaped upon you, though richly deserved and then some - I came here via Memoirs of a Monster. The writing here is no less captivating, and I look forward to more of the same.
Simon doesn't suck and no matter how much we want it, Vader ain't coming back. He's dead, get over it :P
Brilliant as ever Cheeseburger. Keep it coming.
Very good read, looking forward to the next entry. You are an amazing writer with a talent for the small things that make a story great.
Till tomorrow...
Good stuff. I am a fan of the Darth Side. I used to work with people with traumatic brain injuries and so find this quite interesting. I look forward to future posts. Good subject!
I like this idea of old and new self that Faeda describes. People can be changed by events in life, though frequently not as radically as can be seen with brain injuries whether from trauma, stroke, or tumor. It happens to us all in subtle ways that don't always get recognized.
As per usual, CBB delivers an engaging, well written, thoughtful story.
Good entry; this is interesting.
Darth Vader's reply got a loud laugh. Good one.
I wonder what will happen when Faeda gets Vader's mind.
'Cause one just knows that's the one on the crystal, right?
Greetings from the other reader from Portugal :)
This is some quality stuff!
Dr. G
Jeez...you just keep getting better and better.
Wow.
I wish I could write like that...
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