Days (Experimental/Unfinished)

//Once upon a time someone requested a story where Anon had a week to live.

//I thought it was a cool idea.

//Then I ruined that idea.

//It's not finished may never be and it's written in an experimental fashion and there was supposed to be some kind of theme/metaphor with the whole tooth thing? I dunno.

//I'm just putting up some filler before I get ready to post Overly Protective Celestia Part 3.

//Anyway, spread 'em wide.

--

 

>There is a hustling of nurses around your seat.

>A dull buzzer had gone off, and three mares in uniform move past you.

>One of them pushes a cart that has a squeaky wheel.

>Elsewhere, behind the front desk, the receptionist listens to a radio.

>The skinny red hand of a clock moves onto the three.

>Waiting rooms never seemed to be quiet, and perhaps that’s a good thing.

>Here specifically, there are countless distractions, and distractions are good.

>You think the silence would have killed you first.

>But now it might be the waiting that does you in.

>Distractions don’t make time move any faster, and they certainly don’t put your mind at ease.

>Just don’t think about it.

>Maybe the magic will finally help.

>Maybe Equestria will turn out to be your lucky break.

>Maybe these ponies will make the breakthrough humans never could.

>Maybe you should just keep dreaming.

>How long have you been waiting?

>Your appointment should be soon.

>You could visualize it.       

>Those double doors would open and your nurse would step through.

>She’d walk up to you and deliver the good news.

>Anonymous, we can fix you. You’ll get to live.

>With too much to express, you’d say your thanks and be off.

>Back to your life, back to your friends, not with a single worry.

>And never would a word have been said about it.

>The way you’ll keep things, no matter what.

>If visualizing it could will something into happening, surely it’d be so.

>That thin red hand is on the four now.

 

>Name: Anonymous

>Sex: Male.

>Age: 22.

>Married: No.

>Species: Other.

>Please specify: Human.

>Residence: Ponyville.

>Condition: Doesn’t matter.

>It’s going to kill you either way.

>Naming it only dignified it in your head.

>You read over the form in your hand once more, black spots filling in predetermined answers of which you just another possibility.

>Hospitals have just been places to die from illness or news.

>News will always be the more painful of the two.

>Always about a clock, except this one struck backwards.

>5 years.

>2 years.

>18 months.

>6 months.

>Soon that slender red hand will reach around and count off from the five.

>You can watch its hands move, ticking monotonously.

>But this time it reaches six instead.

>This isn’t your clock, it belongs to the hospital.

>Time has only ever served to mock your ever active mind.

>Not like you could help it though.

>The more you stare, the more you lose your grasp.

>It felt good.

>Seven now.

>By canceling out all other noise and listening closely, you could hear Hell’s symphony playing.

>Closing your eyes, it becomes even clearer.

>The consecutive clicking of gears and mechanisms rang through your head.

>Music for the damned.

>A distraction better than all else.

>Eight now, was it?

>If you opened your eyes, perhaps it would not be there to greet you.

>“Hi mister.”

>And just like that, you were pulled back from your mind and out into the waiting room.

 

>She couldn’t have been that old, probably as young as some other fillies you knew.

>Why she stood on the seat next to yours, eyes open in curiosity, you could hazard a guess.

>Everything about her was cream, a demeanor seemingly as smooth and a voice as silky.

>A question was fixated on her mind.

>“Why are you in the hospital?”

>Good question, what were you doing here?

>Waiting to die, be informed of your death, and then die again.

>Yes, that was it.

“I have an appointment.”

>It seemed this answer wasn’t satisfactory enough, for she lowered herself slightly.

>“Oh.”

“The matter’s a bit… personal.”

>“Sorry for intruding mister. Mommy tells me not to bug strangers, but I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

“Mother used to warn me about things too, and then she couldn’t warn me anymore. Now I’m here, away from home.”

>These were thoughts that didn’t need to come back.

“But yes, I’m different. You could consider me to be a special case.”

>True in two ways.

>Silence fell.

>The young one noticed this, and searched inside for something, anything.

>“I’m getting a tooth looked at today.”

>There was no reason not to humor her conversational topic.

“Nothing serious I hope.”

>“It’s been hurting a lot recently, so mommy decided to get me a checkup.”

“I’m sure it’ll be nothing to worry about.”

>If there was any uneasiness, surely it came through your voice.

>Before the question could be asked, the mare called out for her daughter.

>As she lazed towards those double doors with her mom, she glanced back, reaching out once more.

>“Are you getting a tooth looked at too, mister?”

“Yes.”

>It was the only way for her to understand.

 

>As soon as the double doors had settled into place, they swung back and forth once more.

>“Anonymous, I’m ready to see you now.”

>And the routine began for what you assumed would be the last time.

>Walking down the hallway, you followed the nurse to a familiar room.

>Its contents welcoming you in an all too bleak fashion.

>You took your seat, everything proceeding in its blurred fashion.

>Measurements, calculations, tests, an assortment of processes designed to yield the most accurate results.

>These things passed through time effortlessly and without notice.

>Soon you alone once more, waiting for the nurse to return.

>She’d return with the news you didn’t need to hear.

>Who were you trying to fool?

>Your tooth was rotting and ready to fall out, you didn’t need a doctor to tell you this in order feel its splitting pain in your mouth.

>But it was a comfort you needed to have.

>And here this comfort was.

>Swinging open slowly, the door made way for the now returning nurse.

>Her gaze had been occupied by the clipboard in front of her, held up by her magic grip.

>“Anonymous, it’s not easy to say this… but our fears have been confirmed.”

>If these words were meant to faze you, they were unable to do so.

“How long?”

“A week if you’re lucky.”

“And there’s nothing at all…”

>“I’m so very, very sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

>And that was that.

>Walking back down that hallway alone, nothing had changed, yet at the same time everything was different.

>Days.

>Only so many days now.

>The clock’s ticking got that much louder after that moment.

 

>Coming back through the doors, the passage of time dawned on you.

>You stopped in your tracks.

>Half an hour, just like that.

>How quickly would the rest of the day leave you?

>And how fast the rest?

>Truly, the clock that took ages to move from number to number started to glide its hands with ease.

>Everything had seemingly sped up.

>Your eyes widened, the secrets of the universe might as well have just come upon you.

>If you could see yourself now, certainly you wouldn’t doubt such a thing.

>Calm down now, Anonymous.

>Nothing’s changed.

>The franticness has increased for no reason.

>Time is the same as always.

>You were always going to die, why is it any different now?

>Lacking any answer, you couldn’t move.

>What made you feel this way now?

probly the cancer

end

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//Feels good to waste writing time on stuff that goes nowhere.