The pencil quivers in my shaking hands, as my mind fills with thoughts on what another one of my wishes could be. A harsh cough rattles through my body, and my chest heaves as I strain to catch my breath. I think hard, I have always thought of being a body donor, but the thought of a funeral without a body sends a shiver down my spine.
I ponder the problem, and try to think of what my family would think. Dear Nola, cuddling the kids, whispers, “ it’s your life, do what you want”, then there’s boisterous young Sam, however, who has a deep frown, “but who will I play with? And if you get cut open, you won’t go anywhere that I will”. But the main opinion all comes down to one person. Darling Sarah, who just stares at me, her blue eyes wide behind her fawn hair “do it”, is all that comes out of her parted lips.
I make my decision, and as the scratchy pencil skitters across the page, my tattoo almost seems to come to life, it almost seems to pulse.
Thats it, the last thing that I want, the last wish on my will. Another rough cough racks through my body, and this time I gulp desperately for air, but my breath only comes in shallow gasps. My hands tremble, my eyes flash, my lips quiver. The room starts spinning, and I hear a distant beeping.My head feels wheightless, white swirls crawl into my vision, taking over all my senses.
We step into the room. The first thing that I see is a skeleton, real bone, curved and smooth, the face barren and emotionless. I gasp, the room that we step into is as large as my house, but jam packed with models and pieces of body parts, we look around, fascinated by the amount of bodies that surround us. I gag a little, and imagine if I were one of the doctors, slicing through the meat and muscle, dissecting a human like they would dissect a frog. I feel queasy now when I look at the models. We walk around, and I stop when I see a strange looking lump encased in a glass-like box. I lean forward, and almost immediately jump back, it’s a limb of some sort, an arm, and a faded tattoo of a heart stands alone. the skin is peeled and ink swirls up the arm,
To be continued...
I ponder the problem, and try to think of what my family would think. Dear Nola, cuddling the kids, whispers, “ it’s your life, do what you want”, then there’s boisterous young Sam, however, who has a deep frown, “but who will I play with? And if you get cut open, you won’t go anywhere that I will”. But the main opinion all comes down to one person. Darling Sarah, who just stares at me, her blue eyes wide behind her fawn hair “do it”, is all that comes out of her parted lips.
I make my decision, and as the scratchy pencil skitters across the page, my tattoo almost seems to come to life, it almost seems to pulse.
Thats it, the last thing that I want, the last wish on my will. Another rough cough racks through my body, and this time I gulp desperately for air, but my breath only comes in shallow gasps. My hands tremble, my eyes flash, my lips quiver. The room starts spinning, and I hear a distant beeping.My head feels wheightless, white swirls crawl into my vision, taking over all my senses.
We step into the room. The first thing that I see is a skeleton, real bone, curved and smooth, the face barren and emotionless. I gasp, the room that we step into is as large as my house, but jam packed with models and pieces of body parts, we look around, fascinated by the amount of bodies that surround us. I gag a little, and imagine if I were one of the doctors, slicing through the meat and muscle, dissecting a human like they would dissect a frog. I feel queasy now when I look at the models. We walk around, and I stop when I see a strange looking lump encased in a glass-like box. I lean forward, and almost immediately jump back, it’s a limb of some sort, an arm, and a faded tattoo of a heart stands alone. the skin is peeled and ink swirls up the arm,
To be continued...