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  • Writer's picturejodi

150 Beats Per Minute


I took part in a writing challenge recently. I had to set a timer and write 300 words in a very short amount of time that didn't allow for editing or rewrite. This is what I came up with....



150 BEATS PER MINUTE


Piper lies on her back in the quiet room, alone. The lights are dim, the temperature is cool but the turmoil in her stomach is a wild, bright, burning flame. A technician walks into the room with a fake smile and exchanges forced pleasantries. She looks down at the paper file in her hand, then glances over her glasses at Piper. This woman in the starched cotton and classically upswept hair does not care about Piper. In fact, she judges her. Piper knows this, she feels it in every cell of her being. ‘Starched Cotton’ looks down at her, both literally and metaphorically. Piper feels the shame flush her cheeks and she avoids eye contact, although she knows it’s impolite. Shame is a strange character she thinks, whom is now her closest friend. She lies on the cold table, nearly naked, feeling overwhelmingly ashamed. Shame over something she did, a thing that she didn’t even want to do in the first place. Shouldn’t anyone who loves her be ashamed of not being there for her? Piper is not a bad girl. In fact, she always tries her very best to be a good girl.


“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” Starched Cotton asks, her fake smile has long dissipated from her face.


This moment has always appeared to be happier in the movies that Piper has watched. She hesitates. She thinks that she should say “no” because her mother has made her feel that that would be the appropriate thing to say.

But her heart and soul make her whisper… “Yes”.


The room is suddenly filled with a stampede of galloping ponies. Piper smiles despite herself. Starched Cotton’s eyes soften, and she sincerely smiles back. A small empathetic smile, but a smile none the less.


***

Cheers to Page 7 0f 365!


jj









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