by Falcon Randwick » Tue Nov 05, 2013 7:07 pm
mezmo wrote:These old places always give me the creeps. Long narrow hallways, malfunctioning, flickering lights, it's early so there is no one around. We walk down the corridor, looking for signs of life, there is not even a real discernible smell to create this atmosphere, unless you count urine. The smell of urine pervades, but this is Cambodia and there is an unattended wall just outside, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I suppose.
No one is risen by our presence and my nerves are shot, my partner carries her injuries well but I can tell she is crumbling under the strain. I feel quite helpless, where the hell are the people? Shouldn't there be a security guard at least, to raise the alarm. Another corner turned, I see life, a room has it's lights on, all working it would seem. People come and go, at quite a leisurely pace, they look like nurses, I hope they are.
Somebody takes my partners hand and gestures for me to be seated. There is a small space next to an old guy, asleep on the stone bench, there is a stronger smell of urine than ever. This guy doesn't even bother with the customary wall outside, I stay upright. I walk toward the doorway and I can see blood on the floor, a plastic bin also has crimson soaked items splashed, hanging half in half out for me to raise panic over. I strain to hear a thing, I know she is in there and I know others are around, but no sounds, none at all. Maybe this is the room where they enter to simply pass away and be unprofessionally slopped into those bins I saw, I don't know anything right now, can't think straight, the old man has woken and is scratching his balls and arse hole simultaneously, the circus has begun.
I am led by a young nurse into a room, I see my partner, spreadeagled on a bed, a bloody mess. Nobody says a word. I look to her and try to approach, only to be attacked by an old matriarch who, I think tells me to get the fuck out. I am asked to leave by the young nurse. what the hell is happening? Why did I need to see that and be balled at to get out? I pace the corridor just outside and wait again, the old man wants to make my acquaintance and offers his hand, I gently tap him on his shoulder and ask how he is. I have only been here fifteen minutes and you know what comes next, eternity would be a blip in comparison.
The gruesome twosome now exit the room and corner me. Where is my girl I am asking, whilst the old nurse spouts alien to me. "Give me $50", the young nurse says. I am often filled with incredulity in this country, timing is everything and Cambodian people lack it in spades. "What for?" I almost squawk, "your wife is bleeding and we can fix it for fifty dollars" "Fuck me, of course yes, would you not have considered doing the fixing first and then pestering me for cash?" It's all quite normal, so I agree and they scurry off. Still no sounds and the sight of her has saddled up in my brain and is trotting around and around, I'm worried. Then an older, middle aged woman darts out and is flapping all around me without really letting me know that she is talking to me specifically. I'm getting, "girl", "fat/big" "blood, no problem".
I stand at the doorway, nothing, still really quiet considering where we are. It is exactly 5am now, it's kind of getting light, in true Cambodian fashion, even daybreak is quite half arsed. Another squawk, very faint but a squawk nonetheless. More prolonged now but still really quiet, I still can't be 100%. Then it's there, the truest most heartbreaking yet uplifting sound you will ever hear. My baby girl is alive and well. Tani was born yesterday at 5am, October 7th 2013. She was a decent 3.4Kilos and can already scream the house down. Mum is fine and we are all happy. Still no receipt for the fifty, that, just like her first cry, will seemingly never come.
Very nicely written. A great atmospheric piece, gripping even. Now it's been properly edited, people can read it without re-reading lines. Paragraphs serve two main purposes; firstly, they allow the reader to focus on each particular set idea. As I tell my students, every new idea deserves its own paragraph. Secondly, and especially important given the digital medium, it gives the reader's eyes space to digest the words. Nothing is lost in the flow, but so much is gained by narrative coherence.
[quote="mezmo"]These old places always give me the creeps. Long narrow hallways, malfunctioning, flickering lights, it's early so there is no one around. We walk down the corridor, looking for signs of life, there is not even a real discernible smell to create this atmosphere, unless you count urine. The smell of urine pervades, but this is Cambodia and there is an unattended wall just outside, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I suppose.
No one is risen by our presence and my nerves are shot, my partner carries her injuries well but I can tell she is crumbling under the strain. I feel quite helpless, where the hell are the people? Shouldn't there be a security guard at least, to raise the alarm. Another corner turned, I see life, a room has it's lights on, all working it would seem. People come and go, at quite a leisurely pace, they look like nurses, I hope they are.
Somebody takes my partners hand and gestures for me to be seated. There is a small space next to an old guy, asleep on the stone bench, there is a stronger smell of urine than ever. This guy doesn't even bother with the customary wall outside, I stay upright. I walk toward the doorway and I can see blood on the floor, a plastic bin also has crimson soaked items splashed, hanging half in half out for me to raise panic over. I strain to hear a thing, I know she is in there and I know others are around, but no sounds, none at all. Maybe this is the room where they enter to simply pass away and be unprofessionally slopped into those bins I saw, I don't know anything right now, can't think straight, the old man has woken and is scratching his balls and arse hole simultaneously, the circus has begun.
I am led by a young nurse into a room, I see my partner, spreadeagled on a bed, a bloody mess. Nobody says a word. I look to her and try to approach, only to be attacked by an old matriarch who, I think tells me to get the fuck out. I am asked to leave by the young nurse. what the hell is happening? Why did I need to see that and be balled at to get out? I pace the corridor just outside and wait again, the old man wants to make my acquaintance and offers his hand, I gently tap him on his shoulder and ask how he is. I have only been here fifteen minutes and you know what comes next, eternity would be a blip in comparison.
The gruesome twosome now exit the room and corner me. Where is my girl I am asking, whilst the old nurse spouts alien to me. "Give me $50", the young nurse says. I am often filled with incredulity in this country, timing is everything and Cambodian people lack it in spades. "What for?" I almost squawk, "your wife is bleeding and we can fix it for fifty dollars" "Fuck me, of course yes, would you not have considered doing the fixing first and then pestering me for cash?" It's all quite normal, so I agree and they scurry off. Still no sounds and the sight of her has saddled up in my brain and is trotting around and around, I'm worried. Then an older, middle aged woman darts out and is flapping all around me without really letting me know that she is talking to me specifically. I'm getting, "girl", "fat/big" "blood, no problem".
I stand at the doorway, nothing, still really quiet considering where we are. It is exactly 5am now, it's kind of getting light, in true Cambodian fashion, even daybreak is quite half arsed. Another squawk, very faint but a squawk nonetheless. More prolonged now but still really quiet, I still can't be 100%. Then it's there, the truest most heartbreaking yet uplifting sound you will ever hear. My baby girl is alive and well. Tani was born yesterday at 5am, October 7th 2013. She was a decent 3.4Kilos and can already scream the house down. Mum is fine and we are all happy. Still no receipt for the fifty, that, just like her first cry, will seemingly never come.[/quote]
Very nicely written. A great atmospheric piece, gripping even. Now it's been properly edited, people can read it without re-reading lines. Paragraphs serve two main purposes; firstly, they allow the reader to focus on each particular set idea. As I tell my students, every new idea deserves its own paragraph. Secondly, and especially important given the digital medium, it gives the reader's eyes space to digest the words. Nothing is lost in the flow, but so much is gained by narrative coherence.