Young Writers Society

Everyone is lying to me. I can see it in the pity on their faces, the way their eyes flash just before they say anything. No one will tell me what is going on, why I am here, or even why that kid who shares my room has sores on his fingers that match the ones on my face.

In my spare time, which I have a lot of, when I’m not in a drug-induced stupor, I make up stories, like that he has super laser powers, and touched my face and messed me up. It’s possible, I suppose. No one is telling me different.

When I woke up just a few minutes ago, his family was here. The lady took one look at me and started crying, while the dad averted his gaze and pretended not to notice I was awake. The little girl just stared at me with eyes like saucers.

The boy, he is the only one who doesn’t constantly look like he’s pitying me. Maybe it has to do with his super powers.

I don’t remember anything at all. I went storm chasing with the team, we went to Pizza Hut, then I went to bed, and woke up here.

Everything hurts. My hands are so sore and bandaged that I can’t even feed myself, and the nurse has to spoon food into my mouth. I find this incredibly humiliating, because isn’t eating and being able to feed oneself just a basic human right? What has happened to me?

Now, his family is gone, and he is watching TV, eating red jello again. I’m jealous that he can feed himself and that he can press the buttons on the remote.

“I wish my family would visit,” I say. He stares at me for a long time but doesn’t say anything. “Can we watch something else?” I ask. CNN is the only thing he has been watching; it’s looped about six times now and I’m tired of seeing the same news stories over and over again.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, flipping slowly through the channels.

“The Weather Channel,” I say.

He raises his eyebrows at me, a bit surprised. “The Weather Channel?”

I nod.

He shakes his head slowly but flips to it anyways. It is looping through the radar now. There is a low pressure system centered over Nebraska. A cold front is sweeping across Texas and storms are firing up behind it. For Delphi, though, the radar is clear.

I’ve always liked watching the weather radar. I can’t explain why, but it sort of makes me feel like I’m psychic, like I know what is going to happen in the future. Knowing is a nice assurance.



My mom and my older brother Nick come visit that evening. Mom is crying, but frankly I’m not surprised; she is an emotional person and does an awful lot of crying. Nick just seems kind of dazed, but this is not surprising either, because he’s one of those people who spends half of his time out in left field.

Mom stands and holds my hand and says nothing. She is trying to hold back her tears, but failing miserably; they keep dripping onto my nose. I ought to ask her what exactly has happened to me, but based on the way she’s blubbering I’m fairly certain I don’t really want to know yet. If it’s so awful she can’t stop crying, I think I’d rather remain unaware, at least for the time being.

Instead of talking, the three of us sit in pitiful silence. I am in my bed - obviously, it’s not like there’s anywhere else I could go - Mom sits in a chair next my bed whimpering, and Nick sits at the foot of my bed in yet another chair, resting his arms on his knees with his fingers pointed together like a steeple.

I pretend not to notice the boy watching us the entire time. I don’t blame him, really, I suppose we are more entertaining than CNN, even if we aren’t talking.

“Where’s dad?” I ask Mom suddenly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy choose this moment to focus his attention on the TV. “Is he in the hospital too?”

Nick stares off into space for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. I look at Mom, and she is trying so hard to keep from crying that she is just making strangled animal noises.

“He couldn’t be here today,” she chokes out.

“He’s okay, right?” I ask, feeling tears welling up in my own eyes.

“Don’t you worry,” she says, patting my arm, soothing herself more than me, I imagine. “Just focus on getting better.”

My stomach clenches into a horrifyingly tight knot and talking is a tremendous effort. “He’s okay, right?” I repeat, voice just above a whisper.

“Don’t worry. He’s perfectly fine now,” she says, but cannot look me in the eyes.



I spend several hours waiting for everyone to leave the room so I can be alone with the boy. I think he knows more than he lets on, and since he is the only one who’s not treating me like an invalid I figure he’s the most likely to tell me anything.

It’s a long wait; after my parents leave, his come back. This time they smile at me, but there is still pity in their eyes.

After his parents leave, it’s beginning to get dark, and I’m getting tired, but as soon as one nurse leaves another enters.

By the time it seems everyone is permanently gone, he’s beginning to look rather drowsy. His eyelids are slowly drooping.

“Psst,” I whisper.

His eyes fly open again. “What?”

“Do… do you know what happened to me?” Even though the lights are off in our room, I can see everything. The skies outside the window are perfectly clear, and a million stars twinkle down at us.

He looks at the ceiling. “It happened to me too,” he says finally.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Cole,” he says, a bit surprised, like I should know this.

“Do I know you, Cole?” What I really want to know is if he was in my life before this and I have forgotten him, like how I don’t know how I got here.

“Umm,” he says.

I spend a few moments waiting for him to give a real answer, but when I look over, he has fallen asleep. The starlight casts a bluish glow on his face, his floppy blond hair, his long eyelashes, giving him an angelic glow.

“Good night,” I whisper, and feel myself drifting off as well.


The next morning is wonderful; I wake up with a steaming plate of toast sitting in front of me. At first I’m thrilled – real good food – and then I remember I’m not going to be able to feed myself it anyway.

There is a doctor and two nurses standing over me. They’re all smiling.

“Good morning, Zephyr,” the doctor says. “How do you feel?” Cole is watching us again with wary eyes.

“Better,” I say slowly. “Relatively, anyway.”

“Well.” The doctor kneels down again so he’s eye level with me. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions that you want answered. We’ll take care of all those in due time. For now, though, we’re just going to take things one step at a time. We’re going to be taking the bandages off your hands today. If at any time, it starts to hurt, just let us know, okay?”

“Okay,” I answer cautiously, bracing myself for pain. I don’t like pain.

One of the nurses bends down and with a tiny pair of scissors begins snipping away at the bandages. From the very first cut, I feel it open up all over my hand and I have a sudden feeling of freedom. This strikes me as awfully stupid; have I really become so deprived of ability that it’s a momentous occasion when the bandages are removed from my hands?

Then, the pain hits. Like all my muscles are raw and exposed, it throbs and stings and pulses. I fight it, though; I want the freedom of having no bandages.

At this time, the second nurse begins cutting the bandages off my other hand. The pain seems to journey between them on a track that runs across my chest. I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

Suddenly, a high-pitched yelp cuts through the room. At first, I think it was me – dang, I have failed at holding back my scream – but then I realize the nurses and the doctor are staring at Cole.

Even though nothing is happening to him – he’s just laying there in bed – he is screaming and crying.

One nurse rushes to his side, and he holds up his hands. Even though nothing was happening to him, and I was the one getting the bandages removed, his hands are the ones that are red and swollen.

well hi again i can't find anything to review because it's hard to find good writing online so another good chapter!!! I liked it a lot. the length of the chapters are somewhat glorious not so much that i have to read a dictionary and not so short it's a poem.!!
good job again!!