(TW: discussions of cancer and hospitalization) The songbirds chirped happily outside of my hospital room, Another day alive. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, waves of pain going through my head. “Miss O’Reilly, are you alright?” I glanced up to see the nurse, “Ah yes, just head pains.” The nurse wrote something on his clipboard, glancing at my heart monitor. Beep. beep. The noise overcame the songbirds. “Right, when is there time for my ‘bone-call?’ I need to tell my husband about my worsening conditions…” I’d pick the cuticle skin off my nails, waiting for his answer. The nurse clicked his pen closed, “Right, the nearest opening is five minutes. If you wait on the line now, it will transfer over once the other patient is done.”
I nodded, coughing when I reached for the phone. The nurse set the board on the countertop, walking cautiously closer. “Are you sure you’re alright Miss O’Reilly?” His cold hand would hit my back, jolts sending up my spine. I’d wince, laying back down. “Can you be a dear and get me a glass of water please?” My voice would hoarse. He nodded quickly, running out of the room.
I grabbed the phone, typing in the hotline. Was it 4913 or 1394? My head pounded again, the waiting room music commencing. I felt the lumps on my body, waiting patiently when suddenly an unusual voice came onto the line. “Researchers have possibly found evidence that using Bone Call or its other lines may lead to-” What? The phone sparked and cut the feminine voice off, changing to the line. “Sabrina?” His voice made my heart fill with butterflies. “Victor!” I lit up smiling, then bursting into a coughing fit again. The nurse ran back in, handing me the cup of water. I’d mouth ‘Thank you,’ sipping the water and clearing my throat.
“So why’d you not call me for three days? I was worried si- well, can’t really get sick if I’m dead.” Victor exclaimed, then switching tones. I’d pull the cup away mid-sip, “I was actually going to call you about that- so the results came back…my cancer’s beginning to spread. Doctors say I have around nine months to live…” My voice began to crack. Victor hesitated, “I..I just don’t understand how the cancer spread so quickly. You only got diagnosed seven months ago!” Only seven months ago? That can’t be true. It feels like Victor’s death happened yesterday. The grief…the massive migraine I got while enlisting into Bone Call- wait, what did that voice before Victor answering say? My mind focused back into the conversation. “...Sabrina? Sabrina, are you there?” Victor repeated. “Sorry, lost in thought. What?” I sighingly pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I was saying it’s just so abnormal all that started after I died. Can grief give people cancer? Or maybe you changed something after I was gone for a bit?” Victor listed on and on, only being cut off by me. “No, no, no! I remember that there was a voice saying something about how 'researchers found evidence’ about how it could be because of calling dead people? Like how does that even work?” Victor laughed, “Some spooky spirit hijinks, possibly?” I held onto my abdomen, snickering. My body overwhelmed with stabbing pain, all in the places you don’t want it to be. I’d wince in pain, Victor’s laugh quickly fading away. “I don’t want you getting too hysterical. Can’t have you visiting me now, can we?”
“No, no we can’t..,” The phone light turned on. “Oh, I have to go now. I’ll call you when I can Victor.” I’d smile into the phone, “I’ll wait.” I set the hospital phone on its cradle. Hmm…how did my cancer spread so quickly? And where did it even come from? I ate perfectly fine, exercised, took care of myself…what did I do wrong? Well, it all started once he died didn’t it? But, that’s impossible because of that. Dying because of phone calls to the dead? Puh-lease. “Hey, Nurse Harman? I have a question…” I coughed, sitting up. The nurse walked back in, “Please, call me Alec. We’ve known each other for nearly half a year now. I’d roll my eyes slightly, “Anyways, do you know if the bone-calls make any, let’s say, effect on people or their health?” “Well, I’ve heard theories of bone-calls killing people, but not an absurd amount that I believe it. Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.” He nodded once, fixing his face mask.
“But-” I’d sigh as he walked out. Weird that he didn’t want to answer me. Is it true though? There’s no way…but is there? I looked back out to the songbirds, zoning into their song. So beautiful…it’ll be so sad when I hear it for the last time. That won’t be for awhile, right? Right? I’d dial the phone number in, listening for the female voice. I would finally notice my heart monitor, beep..beep…beep. A bit high..that’s fine. Just one more call. I’d finally heard the voice, relief releasing. “Researchers have possibly found evidence that using Bone Call or its other lines may lead to certain health conditions. Please be cautious, we don’t want you visiting in person.” Weird…maybe- it is? VICTOR. I need to let him know now.
The heart monitor beated faster, Nurse Harman rushing in. “Miss O’Reilly? Miss O’Reilly, please calm down-” I dialed Victor’s number in, crossing my fingers. Nurse Harman took the phone from me, setting it down and pushing it away. “Miss O’Reilly, please wait. I need to grab something-” He’d run out, his lanyard jingling.
Now is my chance. This could be the last time I get to call him. Beep-beep-beep. “I need assistance in room 667!” Nurse Harman’s voice echoed through the hospital. I’d reach for the phone, desperately dialing the number. I still can’t believe this. I-I have to tell him. As I scrambled for the phone, the songbird's song slowly faded away as my head hit the pillow, the last thing I heard as I took my last breath was monitors scrambling. Beep..beep….beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
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I’m not entirely sure, but it seemed like you were going for a “stream of consciousness” type story here. Really cool idea, you just have to stick with it through the entire piece. You jumped back and forth between present and past tense, sometimes in the same sentence. It was pretty jarring. However, the storytelling itself was great. I love the concept of the bone call and how it has fatal side effects. You are particularly good at the “show don’t tell” thing that writers always harp on. Just need to clean up the grammar a little bit and y...
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