Epiphany Piece

Bit of a personal one today but I was really proud of it so thought I would share. In my creative writing class we were told to write an epiphany piece -any epiphany we wanted, the only rule being that we couldn't outright say what it was. This is what I created:


There's no beeping. The rhythm has stopped. Halted and silenced like the world itself. All the people around me stand frozen in time, wishing they could just rewind to a better moment. A happy one. I look at everyone's faces carefully, I see new lines around their eyes, new creases around their mouths. Salty trails trace the remnants of running tears, however now everyone's eyes are dry. I didn't think it was possible to run out of tears, but you can. My eyes sting and I know they must be red and sore. There's something caught in my throat but I don't know what it is, it makes me want to be sick and cry out in discomfort at the same time... but I just stay still and silent.

It's cold in here, he's cold too. There is one spot, on the underside of his upper arm, that still holds heat. I rest my hand there, no, I cling to it as my whole world seems to slip from under my feet. I press my finders against the spot and beg for a new warmth to flood across them. I wish to feel skin, alive and pumped full of blood, not wax that lies flat and blood that grows stagnant.

His watch still ticks. It's self winding so requires movement to work. That's one part of him that's still living, his body powered the gentle tick of those hands as they swirl and circle around the face. It's still on his wrist, was he still checking the time? Checking to see when the nurses would come in? When we would come to visit? Was he checking the date in that little square box where the 3 should be? Was he checking thinking he was doing well or that he was tired and his time was coming? Did he just like the sound? Something regular and reoccurring, a gentle delicate noise brought about because he was still moving. I can't hear it right now but I watch and see the hands still dancing, I know the sound is being created but it just looses all strength and fades into silence.

Tea is brought in. Cups, sauces, teapot, spoons. I recognise the design as I bought the same cup for my Mum on Mothers day. The pattern seems far too cheerful, waltzing across the china in beautiful turquoises, pinks, lilacs and greens. Yet, he lies there loosing his colour and we all watch as it fades.

My eyes follow the nurse as she leaves the room and I get a peek of the outside world. People walk quickly, but everything in here is in slow motion. They talk and even laugh, whilst we all stand with our mouths locked. They look colourful with rosy cheeks and bright jumpers, but we just see grey. She opens the door, chattering and beeping flood in, washing away the still air and replacing it with a bustling energy. The door swings shut... and we are plunged into silence once more.