Full body cast fiction stories

Added: Jeremias Giuliano - Date: 24.04.2022 17:21 - Views: 44553 - Clicks: 4121

Emile was a paralegal. But for now he had to pay his dues, he worked with all the other paralegals. A cup of coffee would help. He stood over the coffee maker, its smell every bit of air in the room. It was sweet coffee, he could tell.

Not necessarily good, but sweet, some hazelnut-mocha mixed bean that the secretaries kept around. He hated the flavored stuff. It was quiet in the office, except for the foreign sound of the brew filling his cup. He tasted the coffee. Voices came from the conference room, he could hear them now. Horace, from building maintenance, had a low voice which made it sometimes hard to hear the individual words.

He spoke a broken mumble:. Christ, I had no clue. I asked. No, never! People were entering the office, rapidly talking to each other and walking as if they would continue through the walls. Emile heard everything Full body cast fiction stories pieces, the conversations moved around, and he felt separate from the pace of things:. Fareweather spoke, and the office quieted a little while the lawyers gathered around their boss.

The fine suits and cologne all passed by Emile and into the conference room. He shut the door, then started the tape. The monitor was at eye level with a large puffy stubble-coated face on the screen peering out at the room. Two eyes pointed in slightly different directions through greasy hair, and as the camera panned back, the head got smaller but a full body cast grew from below its neck. Emile was standing still. Everyone faced the screen, drawn to it like sunfish, swaying casually in their chairs.

The flickering lights from the video, with the sound pressing through, struck him as the only motion in the room. I may die in here yet … look outside the window, look at all those people. Like this eight-ball, this fucking eight-ball toy that my kid gave me last year. The biggest one they had: a two-tone convertible, about twenty years old, from the seventies. Emile knew he was just a mechanic, but he liked to think, not so much about his work but about everything else. He liked to see things connect, the wires plugged in and working.

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It made sense. The damn thing squawked a lot at first and I had to tie one leg to the door handle where it settled down eventually. Yeah, it flopped around on the turns and tried to fly away. I mean, I could have gone to Canada I was thinking. It hurts to think about it.

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You know, the first policeman on the scene later told me there were still feathers floating around after he arrived. Everyone was amused and talking, but Emile was drawn hypnotically to the television hum. Emile found himself gripped—like a staggering shot in the arm, it was painful and comforting. It squealed in his ears. Fareweather had a gurgly voice and smiled a lot. Fareweather smiled. He pointed a finger like a gun at Emile, but before he pulled the trigger the staff formed a train leaving the room, talking about the video, and Mr.

Fareweather followed. They left in a line. Horace walked out to the reception area and saw Wendy typing. She was one of the other paralegals and she sat in front of the typewriter, loading it with paper. Wendy typed from a handwritten sheet that told of a wonderful settlement. Sometimes Emile had to type, too, and he never read any of it—it just went through. Emile had gotten to the right floor in the right hospital, and room C was nearby. Inside, little yellow paper flags were on everything. Emile moved towards the bed where a woman was lying in a heap with a pen in one hand and a pad of post-it papers stuck to the side of her leg.

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She snored gently, sometimes skipping a turn. By the time he had reached the side of her bed, he noticed a few of the papers stuck to the bottoms of his shoes and bunched up in little piles around his feet. He pulled them off, read what ones he could:. If you have to smoke, ask for nurse—push blue button beside head of bed, the head of the bed is against the wall, push blue button for a nurse … if you want to smoke. What did you think was in here? He knew Edna was sick, mentally, but he did not know how severely.

The file said Edna did it, and the firm was handling the case. They said Geraldo was coming. Who are you? You say the weather is clear?

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Well open the curtains if the weather is clear. I want to look nice. Is that a TV camera? Emile set up his Full body cast fiction stories, pulling a chair over to the foot of the bed and brushing away the notes stuck to the seat and the arms.

Geraldo always has a story ready. Why should I give you a story. This is my room. You give me a story! Edna looked all around the room. Wait a minute. I have something. I do have something. It was full of papers, and note p, and books. Let go, wait for light … Thursday, 15th, 2pm, call daughter. Damn it to hell! These sedatives is what it is. Witch doctors! No worries, just tell me what you know. What do you know, Edna? I lived it. The house is burnt, so now my daughter has a burnt house, but it is still a house.

This bed: new sheets, same bed. Do you see? See this bed? He was caught by the way she looked around, as if seeing ghosts, watching every bit of lint in the air. Sliding herself from the bed, she went to a lamp hanging from the ceiling near the window, and she went to it, pulling the cord up and down, the light going on and off, while she looked around the shade.

Walking to a landscape print painting on the wall, her feet scraped the floor, dragged a pile of crumpled yellow notes ahead of them and under them. Behind the painting was a pack of Carltons. On the edge of the bed, she lit one cigarette with a match she had drawn out of a pocket in her gown. She lit it, the match, and let it fall to the ground still smoking. Have you seen it? Beautiful, you know. I just wanted to take a nap, and they were making all this noise. Smoke was surrounding her head as she delivered the details, sputtering out words with bits of spit.

The smoke carried up from the side of the bed where the tip had fallen, lighting some papers on the floor. She saw this and started laughing, some smoke had gotten in the shot and there was a trickle rising out of her nose. I told you about the smoke!

Smoke was coming from her slippers and ash was in the air. She had proved herself. Late at work, Emile watched the tape of Edna, making sure all of the equipment was properly hooked up. While piles of colored cable surrounded him, he considered taking the next day off.

The screen was showing the part where Edna pulled the lampcord up and down, on and off—her overexposed face being most of the picture, over and over. He was the only one in the office with every fluorescent light in every room turned on.

Full body cast fiction stories

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‘body cast’ stories