A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part V

Posted: February 6, 2017

Part V

The dark-haired man pushed her aside and quickly assessed the problem.

“Put out your arm!”  he yelled.

Jo obeyed, tears forming in her eyes.

Before she could resist, the man ripped the sleeve from her shirt.  He wrapped it firmly around Tom’s bleeding leg and tied a tight knot.  He rushed quickly to grab a box or pieces of debris and place them underneath to elevate the severe cut.  Jo froze in her spot watching through watery eyes.

“You might have just killed the fat man,” was all that Jo heard as she watched blood flow down the sand at her feet.  She did not bother to move from the staining liquid.

She tried to speak, to make some kind of an explanation, but her mouth refused to work.  Her mortified mind remained confused at the entire situation.  Humiliation and guilt washed over her.

The man saw her pitiful expression and assured her, “Listen, he probably wasn’t gonna make it anyway.  You just gave him an easy way out.  Hold his hand, and make sure he isn’t alone when he dies.”

The man left her to face her victim.  Jo felt a little relief from his words, but still felt agony from causing the death of Tom.

Jo knelt alongside of the dying man and tried her best to give words of comfort, “Tom, I didn’t mean to kill you.  I’m sorry.  The man said you would have probably died anyway.  Is there anything I can do to make you comfortable?  Anything, just tell me.”

Tom barely moved.  He took a few small breaths.  Jo leaned in to hear him whisper lightly, “Water.”

She lifted her head back up to see him motionless, looking pale and ugly.  Jo immediately smelled an awful stench and moved away quickly to escape him.

This felt different compared to the already two dead bodies she previously flipped over.  She watched this once alive man die before her eyes.  She felt strange and distant.  She stood staring at the body for a few minutes.

The man yelled, interrupted her from the trance, “Keep checking those bodies!  Try not to kill any more of them!”

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part IV

Posted: February 6, 2017

Part IV

Once she found herself alone, facing the possibly dead child, Jo mustered up all her strength.  With her left arm, she reached around his back, then with her right arm, she scooped underneath his legs.  Surprised by the simplicity, she lifted his tiny limp body up to her.  Jo stepped carefully and looked ahead at the morose row to see where he would fit in.

She found a spot next to a woman who wore a black dress suit.  Jo did not take notice of the severe gash on the woman’s head, she only saw the details of the outfit.  This woman was possibly a reporter, or maybe a business owner.

It did not feel right.  A motherly looking woman was needed to look after him, dead or alive.  She moved on to find another spot for the boy.

Jo walked along the feet of the her once fellow passengers.  Stopping at each one, examining if they seemed fit enough to “watch” over the boy.  Breathing or breathless, all remained motionless in Jo’s eyes.

She examined each then found a woman in a pink top and a pair of jeans.  Another small child lay close by, and Jo rested the boy between the two.

Remembering what the man told her, Jo quickly found medical supplies, which she began quickly ripping open.  This task on any other day might prove to be difficult.  Her stomach might not have been able to handle the blood and torn flesh.  Today, her mind allowed her to simplify everything.  She found herself confident enough to play doctor on all the patients laying before her.

One by one she proceeded down the row.  The first two bodies felt cold, even for the hot beach.  Not the temperature you would expect to feel when you touch another’s skin.  She listened for any heartbeats.  None.  Jo felt for a pulse.  None.  Lastly, she listened for any breath coming from their mouths.  Nothing.

Jo, with nothing to cover up their dead faces, only thought to roll them over on their stomachs, as a mark they had passed.

The third passenger in the row had a heartbeat.  Jo wished the man dead, so she might not be put to the test.  The overweight man’s arm held close to his body, and one foot, which had lost its shoe, looked completely crushed.  Jo took a deep breath and took control of the situation.

“Hello, sir?  Can you hear me?”

The man groaned in pain.

“My name is Joey.  What is your name?  Can you tell me your name?”

“Tom,” the man whispered.

“Ok, Tom.  I know you are in pain.  You have been in a plane crash.  We all have.  I need you to answer me.”

“Ok.”

Jo wanted to walk away, to run away.  She continued, “It looks like your arm and foot are broken.  Is there anything else that hurts?”

“My leg, the back of my leg,” Tom spoke, every word weakening.  He pointed to his right leg with his eyes.

Jo lifted the leg and found a chunk of metal wedged right above the back of his knee.  She instantly looked up at Tom.  Her eyes gave it away.

“Ok, Tom.  I’ve got to remove that.”

He shook his head.

“It’s ok.  It will only hurt for a moment.”

She rose to grab a few supplies from the box and returned to start the grueling task.  After she set up everything needed, she propped up his leg.

“Ok, on the count of three.  One, two, three!”

She yanked on the metal piece as hard as she could.  Jo heard the noise it made as it slipped from its spot.  She felt as if she was cutting into a piece of meat.

An uncontrollable amount of blood poured from the wound she opened.  She grabbed all the bandages and pressed it firmly to the hole.  The young woman underestimated everything and began to question her actions.  Jo even thought about putting the metal back in its found spot to plug up the damage.

From behind her she heard, “What have you done?  He will bleed to death!”

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Today is the 24th of December in the year 2016.
I want to wish everyone the best holiday season and a Happy New Year.

As we are about to start a new year, I just wanted to give a little message of encouragement.  For those who know me personally, will know that I love making New Year's resolutions.  A favorite of mine is quitting soda.  I made it all the way to August in 2016!
For 2017, I'm still debating with myself on what I'm going to try changing and improving on.  Primarily the focus will be on writing and how I can get myself noticed and accepted by a good publishing company.  Other areas I might make some resolutions on will be physical, spiritual, and mental. (Coving all the bases, so to speak)
The wonderful thing about the New Year is the start over.  Of course anyone can make changes at anytime during the year, but there is something special about starting out fresh on the first of January.  Maybe it is the artist side, but I tend to get sentimental during this time.  I look back on the year, whether it played out good or bad.  It gives me the proper perspective as I look ahead.
So if you stay awake on the 31st to ring in the new year or decided to get a good night rest for the first day of 2017, think back on the past year and be excited on all the possibilities the future brings.
Thank you for reading!

-beck

Suddenly Feels Write

Posted: December 23, 2016

I have just completed my work year.  After saying my goodbyes and wishing my coworkers much love as we part for the close of 2016, I feel a surge of emotions.
On my drive home I thought of many things.  I thought of my work.
I realized that while I enjoy my factory very much, (It has a calming effect.  Repeating the same motions over and over allows me to clear my head and explore my creativity.) I am beginning to see myself in a different light.  Suddenly I realize my mind's eye is slowly changing.  The more I write, and the more I develop my stories, my self perspective is shifting.
Six months ago, if someone came up to me asking what I did for a living, I would have described my work at the factory, rather proudly.  Presently if asked, I would tell them I was a writer.
Before I might have been ashamed to say this, mainly from the fact that I have not published any work.  This brought a little embarrassment.
But I am proud now.  So what if I haven't published.  I can keep carrying on.  Edison did not invent the light bulb on the first try.  Why give up, why be ashamed?  An inventor is a good example, because they will try over and over at many failed attempts.  Still they call themselves inventors.
There is nothing wrong with being creative and having nothing to show for it.  If it is your job, keep plugging away at it.  If the talent is there, and should be utilized.  Many great writers never even published or received recognition for their work while they were alive.
If I desire recognition for work that is complete... well then I would have poor work indeed.  I'm not going to rush this.  I will write right, and in my own time.
This year is coming to an end.  A year very hard on many.  I will always remember 2016 as difficult, but also enlightening.  I started up my writing career, I'm learning many things, and I have a great desire to keep it going.
Thank you to all of my readers.  I could not do this without you.  Now that I consider myself a writer, I will continue to hone my skills.  I plan on staying around for quite a while.

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part III

Posted: December 21, 2016

Jo held her breath for a moment and stood rooted to her spot, uncertain of the next move.  She needed to be careful.  Social interaction, her least favorite part of life, was needed from here on out.  Jo knew this.

This stranger, who was sweating from his vigorous efforts, completely ignored her presence.  He wore a black shirt, which matched his black hair.  His face already forgotten, Jo studied the back of his head looking for clues on how to engage this distracted man.

On and on he swung the ax, until he finally achieved his goal.  The seat broke from the back, and released the belt, which had been holding a small passenger.

Luckily the dark axman spoke first.  He stated between breaths, “Come over here, and grab this kid.”

Jo pushed her brow down in confusion.  Out of curiosity, she moved without hesitation to see what he meant.  Sure enough, there on the seat sat a small boy.  His head hung down without any support.  Jo gasped in shock, thinking him dead.

“Are you strong enough to lift him?”

Jo nodded her head without a thought as she stared at the child.

The axman answered her nod, “Good, watch his head and take him over to that row, by the boxes.”

“What?” Jo whispered.

Her eyes followed the direction his arm gave towards a row of bodies that were lined down the beach.  Another shock hit her as she roughly counted nine or ten people laying side by side on the sand.  Unsure of the situation a hundred questions grew in her mind.  She wondered why she did not notice them before.  Maybe she blocked them out, unable to face the reality.

The axman must have read her face.  He answered her unspoken questions quickly, “We have to move fast.  There are still others.  Surprisingly some are alive.  A lot I guess are dead too.  I need your help.  The boxes over there I found…. they have medical stuff in them.  I don’t know how to use them.  Maybe you do.  I’m sure you can find something to help them.  I’m going to keep looking for more people, I’ll call you when I’m ready for you to help me.  Now take him, and figure out things over there.  Can you do that?”

Jo listened to his commands.  She nodded again, just to get him away from her.  In her heart, Jo wanted to run away, but in her mind, she knew she must join this stranger and become a hero.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Flying

Posted: December 7, 2016

Flying

Have you ever wished to fly

Way up in that clear blue sky

See your feet rise off the floor

Spread your wings and start to soar

Wishing that you would never leave

Flying past the tall green trees

High above the clouds you'll go

Over mountains topped with snow

Never seen a moon so bright

As you fly in the night

Never have you gone so far

In the sky of shooting stars

-beck

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part II

Posted: December 6, 2016

 

Jo assumed no one else survived.  She stayed awake most of the night, in hopes of rescue, and heard nothing from the wreckage.  The noise coming from the torn-up carcass gave hope.  No longer alone to face the future, she felt her reality beginning to hit.

Tears rolled down her bruised cheek.  Along with the heat of the sun, Jo felt hot all over.  The experience of the crash replayed in her head for the first time since it happened.  She brushed the horrid visual pictures aside.

The other human life needed help.

As she stumbled to stand she crushed the little castles she thoughtlessly molded.  Jo pushed down on her stomach, as she walked though bits and pieces of debris.  The tolerable pain was a small testament.  Jo knew her luck.

The banging grew louder the closer she arrived.  Her heart beat nervously.  An infinite amount of possibilities played in her head.  As a natural worrier, she always ended up using her wild imagination for the worst.

What if they are missing a leg?  What if they are crushed and I have to watch them die?  Why are they now making noise?  Who could it be?  I pray it isn’t a child.  I remember seeing a kid or two on the plane.  I can’t think of it.  I just need to get to them.  Help if I can.

Her thoughts trailed off.  She spoke aloud, “Hello?  Where are you?  I’m here.  Hello?”

The response surprised her.  Nothing.  The banging stopped abruptly.

Jo, not wanting to get to close, closed her eyes.  Some dead passengers remained strapped in their seats.  A couple empty seats tore out of the cabin and scattered around the beach along with other parts of the plane.  Their passengers gone, quite possibly out into the ocean.  The thought gave her chills up and down her back.

About to call out, the banging started up again.  This allowed her to pinpoint the source.  She determined the noise came from the other side of the fallen aircraft.  She reluctantly made the decision to pass through the wreckage for a quicker route.  To walk around the entire plane would take several minutes.  She picked the least morbid path and proceed carefully, hoping not to see or touch anything that would push her into shock.

After some rough climbing and a few misplaced steps, she successfully planted her feet back down onto the sand.  It seemed colder on this side.  The sun slipped behind some clouds for cover.

About 40 feet away, a man stood looking at her.  After a few seconds, he returned to his work.  He used the ax he held to slice through the air and into the back of a passenger seat.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/