The events of last night replay in my mind, a loop that I can't escape. When my eyes are opened, I can't keep them from Adam. When they are closed, it allows for a vivid picture of the night. The blood, the screaming, the terror etched on my family's faces that would turn pale, motionless.
Bang.
Footsteps echo at the other side of the room. I raise my head from being buried in my palms and straighten my posture.
"How's he doing?" the nurse asks gently, checking Adam's vitals. She adjusts the IV drip methodically and full of care. Her brown glasses sit on her ears, straight brown hair tucked behind.
"I–" my voice cracks. "He hasn't woken up.”
She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "He's looking good, Josh. We're monitoring him closely."
I nod, holding onto her words as if they're a key to survival. "Thank you."
I watch as she finishes her checks and makes her way towards the door. "Hey," she says. I look up at her. "I know this is hard, but you're handling it like a champ."
Her words catch me off guard, surprise and gratitude welling up inside me. I manage a faint smile.
“Thank you,” I repeat in a whisper as she walks off.
As the door closes behind her, the words linger in the air. I return my attention to Adam, his steady breathing and regulated heartbeat a lifeline, a way out. A sign that he’ll be okay.
Not that everything will.
#mini excerpt from a book i'm starting (i am 13)
hollow shore
The room feels sterile and cold, a combined smell of antibiotics and cleaning chemicals lingering in the air. In the quiet of the wooden-floored room, I’m left with my thoughts, tired eyes, and pounding headache. The subtle sunrise out the window gives me a sense of calm, but I’ve noticed that feelings like those are only momentary after villains and bullets combine in your own home.
The weight of the night bears down on me, but nothing compares to the crushing reality that I’ll never see my parents again. You only truly appreciate something when you don’t have it anymore. You only realize that your parents weren’t mean, but only protective, when they're no longer there.
Bang.
I glance back at the clock— 5:03. Time feels both endless and fleeting, each second passing as two, but each hour passing unnoticed. Minutes ago was the shower of bangs but it feels like hours since I was sitting in this room. The night felt off before it happened—all quiet, air thick with unease. If I’d said something, would things be different? Would we all hide in my room like I did alone? Would we all listen and peer through the small gap between my door and its hinges like I did alone? I wish that things had gone differently.
I wish that I could've run down the redwood stairs and let myself die too.
crude river
Great start!
A couple of critques that are maybe nit-picky things on my end. The first of which is I like the part that you have the Nurse reassuring the narrator, but her asking them how he's doing felt a bit off to me (but that could be a me preference). It doesn't feel like the nurse should asking the narrator...and then reaffirm it? I guess.
The second, I like your hook, I think you could shift some of that around to make it more impactful. Play around with sentance length a little bit. That's something I've found is helpful is giving quick beats in short sentences, really gives an oof
I like your use of internal monologue, I would suggest adding more of it, but it is a delicate thing to balance. You have some really good sentences, and I like the thought of using 'bang' as a scene break.
All in all a great start! Keep working hard, you're doing great!