story from an unwritten book
As she laid there on the cold hard concrete floor her mind wondered on the rollercoaster of life. The solid coldness sent shivers down her spine while soothing her soul. She didn’t dare to move, not even a finger, barely daring to blink while even breathing felt like a knife stroke to the head and brain sending signals to every inch of her body that they hurt.
As she laid there of course she knew it was only her head, but damn it doesn’t feel like that. She would love to have a headache, just an heaache. Not ths paralyzing torture. She felt it creeping up at work, knowing what’s to come and that there’s nothing she can do about it. Only thing she coould control was finishing up as much of her work she possible could. Not to interfere with the firm process because she was a woman. And god forbid any man should wait because woman has a headache. It’s totally fine to postpone a whole campaign because sales guy s hungover or just wasted. She hated that hypocrite world.
So she finished all tasks for today, and tomorrow … and the day after. Left a note she will take a personal day and left the office while waving with a smile as 7 mean elves were playing whack-a-mole in her head. She arrived home just in time to lock the door, grab a cold water from the fridge and collapse on the floor.
As she laid there slowly wakinig and threading to move she wondered how much time has passed. Is it still today or already tomorrow. How long has she been here? Carefully and slowly reaching for a water – ready to stop moving in a split second. Wondering why she never ever has heard men have these kind of headaches. It’s always women! Or maybe they have … but they are just not able to survive it long enough to speak up? Or is it too man to think that?
STOP! You, idiot! You moved your head!
Closing her eyes again. It’s not over yet.
She woke again to a sound of buzzing, it took her a while to undrestand – and then to thank her past self to turn mobile to silence.So I guess, it’s tomorrow now. Her right side as numb, all over and the rest of her body too weak (or frightened?) to mov her. Is it over? She spotted water bottle almost next to her lips – yes, that’s when it stuck last time. She opened her mouth and clipped it open with her theet to drink. It’ still cold – but how? She was puzzled.
At times like this she felt sad she lived alone. Knowing there won’t be anybody coming, she has no hope for help. And then at the same time – she felt glad. Nobody would see her like this and worst of all – nobody could demand her to do anything or take care of them while in this pain. She will die alone, probably because of one of these headaches .. and will be discovered when neighbors are starting to complain about the smell.
This is a fictional story inspired by modern world struggles, where there are high expectations for everyone regardless of themselves. She is everyone and no one – me, you, your neighbor, or bitchy boss. The label “Stories from the unwritten book” might get new additions and may not. These are my first attempt of writing down some stories running through my mind – the main goal is to give them an outlet and maybe one day they turn out to be something more. The story might continue.
