Personal Narrative: My Hospital
As the hospital room door slammed shut the horrific smell of unwashed bodies came over me, almost making me choke in disgust. It was rather humid and I was finding it increasingly difficult to suck the oxygen into my body. I was suffocating like a fish out of water, labouring with every breath. The walls, the ceiling and the floor were all the same dull colour. My hospital room was small. I could not even take two large strides before I reached the other side of the stinking cage. Then an unearthly caterwauling sound filled the air. The wind whipped up into frenzy. It was a shrieking, keening omen of the carnage to follow. The clouds raced across the sky, thrumming with the charged energy they are desperate to release. It started with big,
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The summer sky was neon-blue and vibrant. The sun-crisped flowers of the meadow were wilting. They gape at the tufty clouds and beg for their parched petals to be given one more shot of insulin. The clouds oblige and rain descended in little gleam-drops of silver. If you were to stand in the meadow, the drops would feel as sparkly and effervescent as champagne bubbles hitting your skin. The sound of the rain was a harmonic thrumming, nature’s white noise. Silver trickles of water seep into the soil, renewing the life-roots of the plants beneath. A homely, baked-earth smell raised from the land as it was washed and cleansed by the dewy tears of summer rain. Petrichor, the smell of the first rains after a dry spell, raised like a miasma. It is a jasmine-and-gingerbread fragrance, warm and fresh, and it laved the land with sweetness.
My friend Nadine knocked at my house she said, “Get your bike.” So I asked my mum if I could take it out, terrible decision. Nadine had long blonde hair and her skin was tanned. She had ocean blue eyes. Nadine was usually kind and patient. She didn’t have a tendency to lose track of time, but she was willing to help others. She had a peanut allergy, and whenever she saw an injured or homeless pet, she tried to help it. She loved cats, gardening, and singing. Nadine wasn’t the closest friend that I had but there were some times where we would play
The summer sky was neon-blue and vibrant. The sun-crisped flowers of the meadow were wilting. They gape at the tufty clouds and beg for their parched petals to be given one more shot of insulin. The clouds oblige and rain descended in little gleam-drops of silver. If you were to stand in the meadow, the drops would feel as sparkly and effervescent as champagne bubbles hitting your skin. The sound of the rain was a harmonic thrumming, nature’s white noise. Silver trickles of water seep into the soil, renewing the life-roots of the plants beneath. A homely, baked-earth smell raised from the land as it was washed and cleansed by the dewy tears of summer rain. Petrichor, the smell of the first rains after a dry spell, raised like a miasma. It is a jasmine-and-gingerbread fragrance, warm and fresh, and it laved the land with sweetness.
My friend Nadine knocked at my house she said, “Get your bike.” So I asked my mum if I could take it out, terrible decision. Nadine had long blonde hair and her skin was tanned. She had ocean blue eyes. Nadine was usually kind and patient. She didn’t have a tendency to lose track of time, but she was willing to help others. She had a peanut allergy, and whenever she saw an injured or homeless pet, she tried to help it. She loved cats, gardening, and singing. Nadine wasn’t the closest friend that I had but there were some times where we would play