I have, over time, written many short stories,"Short-Shorts" as they are call by some, and by request I am putting them together into one collection for my readers; I will be adding to it as time allows. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan
It is like that some days. Suddenly a rolling cloud comes through, and it stands up on end and destroys your life. Maybe you are in an accident as a result of a freak of nature, or you're just in the wrong spot at the wrong time, and then it hits you and you either fight or give up. Perhaps you wake up in a hospital bed; perhaps an ambulance responded and swept you away; or maybe you were able to make your way to the emergency room on your own two feet. No matter what way you arrive at this predicament, your life suddenly changes, and what happens next is anybody's guess. Neil pondered these thoughts as he sat in the ER waiting room. A person came up behind him and leaned over to talk to the man sitting beside him. A conversation spread across the waiting room, and soon half of the people in the ER were chatting like they were family at a family reunion, except no one really knew each other. They were just anxious to talk to someone and break the deafening silence. Even Neil chimes in. He was least likely to know anyone in this mismatched group, but he said, "His perfect tenor voice demanded that people listen, and with age and white hair, his voice was even more distinct. He said, "You know Ray Turner? He is an old classmate of mine, and the last I heard he worked there as a groundskeeper."
The man beside him said, "You mean Raymond Turner?" Neil nodded, yes. "I sure do. He's been there longer than me. I expect he is planning on his retirement with the new budget cuts coming."
Neil looked over to the triage desk and looked for someone calling his name, but no one called. However, a man in dark blue scrubs, a mask, and a surgeon's cap stood looking at him intently but never said a word. Neil turned back to the conversation and said, "Well, if you see Ray again, tell him Neil Blanch says, Howdy." Neil was not too concerned, and he felt okay, but not great. It was just that he had been suffering from edema in his lower legs for the last several months. He turned back toward the triage desk, and that same doctor was standing by himself. It was creepy; he stood like a vulture waiting for a meal. Everybody walked past him like he didn't exist, and the surgeon didn't move. Usually, doctors don't stand staring at the people waiting, but it gives people the creeps. Perhaps the doctor knew him, but not likely. As a matter of fact, the doctor did seem to stare only at him. The doctor had no chart, nothing at all to suggest that he was about to call someone over to tell them bad news, and if he was, he was going to talk to him or the man sitting beside him. Neil turned his attention back to the family-style ER reunion chatter that had not slowed down when a triage nurse called his name. As they made their way back toward the caged space reserved for him, he asked the nurse. "Who was that tall, lanky doctor in the surgical scrubs and mask? I think I know him."
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