Beep... Beep.... Beep... The sound calls through my hazy consciousness. Beep... Beep... I blink open my eyes and stretch.
A tearing pain in my side. The intensity of it almost makes me cry out.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Where am I? I look around. Hospital. It must be a hospital. Why else would there be a heart rate monitor? Why am I in a hospital? Why do I need a heart rate monitor? Who am I?
And then I know.
My name is Harper. I was in a car crash. My boyfriend, Ringo (His parents are Beetles fanatics) was with me. So were my best friends, Miriam and Priscilla.
I like art. Wait - more specifically, I like painting. Ironically, my latest piece was of broken glass.
YOU ARE READING
And Felt Herself too Mighty to be Small
Short StoryI would prefer it if you do not call these tales "short stories". I find this phrase extremely height-ist and rude to a vertically challenged person such as myself. Please refer to these as "Full Stories".
