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Hey everybody! Its been awhile since I posted on TheO!!! Below is a story I wrote for my English class last year. Its a prequel to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, but you don't need to have read that to understand this! Please comment and tell me what you think!!!
I remember long ago. It seems so very long ago. He's still alive in my memory and I love him even more then I ever did back then. I remember it all so well even now. When he told me he loved me for the first time. When he finally decided to propose to me and I said yes. When he was drafted and told me he was leaving. Our wedding was called off. He was shipped so very far away. I wanted so bad to help. I became an army nurse in hopes to help the cause and to bring him home sooner. I saw so much blood and pain. So many went insane from what they had seen, it made me even more frightened for him.
Every time a soldier came into the hospital I thought it would be him. Every man wheeled out to the morgue had his face. Every pained wife, sister, and mother mourning for the one gone away ripped at my heart. Their tears seemed to whisper, “This could be you next. It could be you.” I cried myself to sleep each night, trying to gain control over my life. The fear just about killed me. Every day was hell; I struggled to keep a hold and to do my job, and to help my patients. Every night I died of fear and every mourning hope brought me back again. I missed him.
I wrote him every day about my work, and day to day life. He wrote back with his feelings for me, and we discussed our future wedding plans and how everything would be better when we saw each other again. Our love grew stronger by the day; the fear pushed us so close. “To my dear fiancée and love,” was always how he began his letters to me. They were filled with his love and I treasure every single one. I would day dream of our perfect wedding. All my friends and family were there in my vision. Oh, how sweet our honeymoon was going to be; taking dips in the ocean next to the wide sandy beach. The sky would stretch on forever. Together we would laugh at how silly it had been to think that we would never see each other again.
Then the dream took an unpleasant turn. I had finished up at work and was walking home alone, so lonely. When I could see my home from the end of the street, I saw them too. The army officers waiting, staring, killing me with their guilty eyes. “They can’t be for me!” I remember thinking, wishing, knowing. They stopped me at the door and handed me an envelope. “I won’t open it,” I thought, “I refuse! This isn’t real.” My eyes and hands cruelly disobeyed my brain. It was opened. It was read. It all ended there.
How could he be gone? I cried for what seemed like forever. As the tears fell down my face, so too did my emotions fall away. All that was left was an empty shell. I felt I had lost all control. I was drowning, being swept along a fast current. It felt like it would never stop.
The war ended, along with my job. The money stopped coming, so did my hope. That’s when I found the ward. An old friend of mine knew of my plight; no money and no husband to be. She was high up at the ward and offered me the job. I had no money so I accepted her offer.
At first I didn’t like it, taking care of all the crazy people. It reminded me too much of my old job and life. All the army veterans made me think of him, my love. But day after day I felt like this job was giving me back a little bit of what I had lost. Control. I may have lost control over my life outside, but inside the ward I have control over them all. It makes me feel good to be able to help the hurt people from after the war. To help the left overs, like myself, heal and become whole again. I still work there today, working to help the psychologically impaired collect themselves and go on with their lives. Something I myself want one day to accomplish.
