Weekly Response #6: Empathize (due Oct 21)

Respond to this prompt.


17 thoughts on “Weekly Response #6: Empathize (due Oct 21)

  1. Old man has Stroke unable to speak
    I might not be able to speak anymore, but I still see the world. Every since I had my stroke I listen more, to things around me and I am more aware of what people do. I’m not able to comment on things anymore or give my own opinion. Maybe it’s better that way. I never listen before, not to what my wife told me when I was a younger man before she passed. And I didn’t listen to my daughter. I can see that she is worried about me. I see it in her eyes. I had to move in with her after my stroke. So that she could take care of me. I mostly write now, not being able to speak or tell people how I feel. But I write mostly for myself and for my daughter. When I’m gone I want hear to read what I have written and all the thoughts I had when I couldn’t speak. I want her to laugh as she once had. To have one of the biggest smiles, I know she has. And maybe someday, she can read my writings to a daughter or son of her known. Not being able to speak, I think, makes me a better person.

  2. I spent years preparing for this day. There were so many challenges trying to stop me but I got through it all. Everything boiled down to this moment, I knew I didn’t have much time until they realized I was missing. I crouched down behind a rock to survey the landscape. It was clear except for the frozen corpses in the rivers. Tears threatened to over flow as I thought about those who were so close to freedom but just couldn’t make it. I hastily wiped away my tears and looked forward to my destination. China. The mountains were right in front of my nose almost taunting me to come closer. I inched a bit closer, getting ready to run because it was now or never. I took a deep breath and then started to sprint across the frozen ground. I didn’t dare stop until I reached something big enough to hide behind. I reached a boulder the size of a small car and sat behind it, catching my breath. I had done it, I had succeeded my first step in escaping my country, it was exhilarating. I almost laughed out loud with joy but of course I didn’t, it wasn’t over yet. I stood up and made my way for the mountains with a new found determination. “Just wait my son,” I whispered “I’ll come back for you. I promise. We will start a new life outside of North Korea together.”

  3. If I am caught, I’ll be taken back to my war-torn country and thrown into prison. I am travelling with people whom I have never met before, but we all have the same goal; to escape from this hell on earth. There’s a few small children along with us, and I have to fight to push the thoughts of my young daughter out of my mind. Just a week before, a bomb hit the school that she was attending. This was one of the main reasons I decided that it was time to leave; there was nothing left for me there anymore. I miss her terribly, and try to avoid the other children as much as possible.
    We only travel at night, and in the daytime we find a quiet place to rest. I am often the first to move since I have the least to lose. When we eventually reach the border, I am the first to emerge from the safety of our hiding spot. The children watch from behind the legs of their parents. The silence that fills the night is unnerving.
    The last thing I see before the bullet that kills me enters my brain is my daughter. I am dead long before I hear the screams of the other children.

  4. I stared at the men holding the rifles, I felt the veins in my forehead pulsating violently; a headache was sure to come. I glanced to my left and right, looking at my colleagues, some smiled sadly back. I then turned to look at the men again, some looked angry, some nervous, some guilty and some ashamed. A man raised his arm and said in a loud voice,
    “READY.” The men raised their guns to us.
    “AIM.” I heard the click as they turned off the safety.
    I took a deep breathe and mumbled quietly, “blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.” Many mocked us but twice as many joined us in the fight against the enemies. I thanked the Lord for the life he blessed me with and helping us get through to the people of this war torn city.
    “FIRE.” The voice boomed, and I bowed my head, feeling at peace as the bullets tore through my body; I knew I was going home.

  5. I scream. I scream with my eyes, my hands, my head. They cannot hear me, they do not understand. My mouth slides down my face and my hands have forgotten how to write. I am lying in wet sheets from the previous night. My daughter is crying. I can hear her pleading me to speak to her. I want to tell her that everything is alright, that I am proud of her and I want to erase the scared look off of her face. But I can’t remember what to say. I am strangely aware of my tongue and I forget how it moves. Is it a part of me? My mouth is so dry, I think I need water. I want to ask but my mind gets in the way of my brain. So I try to scream.

  6. I’m not who I used to be, that’s for sure. Everything I’ve ever worked for, who I became over all of those years, what I made for myself, I feel, has been stripped bare from me. My kids come to visit me with their children. But they are scared of me, I’m not the grandpa they know. The grandpa who would swing them around and tell them long tales, now they hide behind their mother’s legs when I try to speak. They whisper to their mom, telling her they are scared, that they want to leave. Unfortunately, I can still hear. I can hear what the doctors and nurses are saying to me, my grandchildren’s words, I wish I didn’t, I wish I could not hear anything at all. My wife sits at my side, holding my hand, but I can barely feel her. I turn my head to her trying to tell her I love her and although it sounds nothing like it used to, she understands. I am ashamed of who I am now, I barely look at my reflection, the one that stares back at me in that vile tomato soup. I understand they are trying, everyone around me attempting to ‘make the most of it.’ Though they don’t understand and they will never understand.

  7. It’s been 13 years since I got off this rollercoaster. I’m starting to think that somebody forgot me here. I can see all of the lights of the city at night but I drive by too quickly to get a good look. I can’t remember the last time I saw a face. All I could ever see was cars driving by. I’m starting to get hungry, I don’t know how much longer I can survive without food. I never get thirsty because in Vancouver it is always raining. The last thing I remember eating is raw seagull. He flew right into me about 5 years ago. About a year ago I stopped having fun going around the loop on the rollercoaster. This whole ride was starting to get boring I wish I could get off this stupid coaster. I don’t think I have slept once either. Until one day. Once I got completely bored, my eyes started to slowly close. Then I woke up in a hospital with weird people surrounding me, just staring in shock. I tried to talk but no words came out. I’ve been in a coma for 13 years.

  8. Silence. Immobilization.
    Words lose meaning.
    Communication changes forever.
    Wheeling everywhere.
    No more laughing.
    No more singing.
    But also no more crying.
    Except in silence.
    Expression is difficult.
    My body is frozen.
    Pride is lost.
    Emotion stays the same.
    The clock irritates me.
    It strokes.

  9. I have always been wondering what life after death would look like,
    especially for bad guys like me.

    I do not like the world,
    the world that has abandoned me;
    I do not like the people,
    the people who betrayed me;
    And I do not like myself,
    the person that dislikes everything.

    There is one positive thing about me,
    that I have clear self-awareness.
    I know myself well enough to say that
    I am not a good person,
    because a good person will not be standing at where I am,
    watching the man of death approaching.

    I am glad that I get what I deserve;
    I am glad that I can end all this and have a new beginning;
    and I am glad that I am about to find out what I have always been wondering.

  10. I see him. I see his eyes, he has my eyes. I see his nose, with the perfect ridge his mom has. I see his hair, with delicate curls that curl at the tip of his ear. I see him for the first time. I see her. I look into her eyes and see the pain. I see the overbearing weight of what is to come in just her face. Her beautiful face. She grips him in her arms and they watch me in my final minutes that seem to be hours. I watch, I stare at the two of them for I cannot take my eyes off them. They are my everything. I feel as the needle is injected into me. Every part of me wants to scream and cry out. But I keep my eyes on her, my strength. I watch as a single tear rolls down her cheek. My body slowly shuts down and I feel as though everything around me is closing in. And I see them for the last time.

  11. My hand is pulled hard by my excited companion as she rushes towards the front on the roller coaster, my feet unwillingly follow. Bees begin to buzz in my ears as I sit and watch the man pull the restraint over my shoulders. I feel as if i’m far away watching this moment unfold through a window on a foggy day. The preempted screams of other kids and families float through my ears and make me suddenly aware of how close I am to my greatest fear. Beads of sweat build under my hairline and my palms begin to feel slick on the safety bar. My mind quickens along with my heart as the cart lurches forward and begins the treacherous journey upward. My companion squeals with anticipation of the upcoming drop. I hold on tight as the “tick, tick, tick” becomes slower, leisurely pushing one cart at a time over the edge. The wind comes barreling towards me as the cart is rushed down the spiralling track. My eyes close in fear and my tummy turns making me think the my previously devoured lunch wasn’t a great idea. My fingers begin to slip off the bar and I feel my body lift off the small seat. At the last second the drop ends and I’m continuing upwards again toward the next set of unnerving twists and turns. I hold on extra tight not wanting the leave the small comfort of the seat. I keep my eyes closed tightly as the ride continues to jerk me back and forth, up and down. Seconds later the ride ends and my fingers slowly uncurl, I open my eyes and welcome back the friendly sunlight. One roller Coaster down, twenty three to go.

  12. Today is my last day in this coldness and mercilessly world. I standing on the 38 floor rooftop, face to this chilly city. I have been live in this city for 20 years, and now is time to leave. During those years, my company go broke, and I still owe another company a lot of money I can not pay for it. My fiancee run away with another man. I become nothing, maybe leave this world is liberation. I can feel the wind scrape my face like a knife, my mind tell me is time to jump, to extrication. I start to move my foot a little to the front, and I count to three and jump. Finally my foot leave the floor, my body like a huge ball speediness to the ground. My mind quickly to through a picture, it is my family’s photo. I suddenly realized that my parents still wait for me for a christmas dinner. I start to have fantasy that my parents ask me which favour jam I want on my toast. I suddenly awake, I am almost arrive the floor with my head land first. I can feel the time walk slow, and I am repentantly with my action, but it is too late. “ boom” everything became dark and dark. . .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s