Microstory Monday
I Prefer A Silent Harvest
"You've been working too fast," my supervisor says, tightening the restraints on my donor as I work. I shrug, quickly carving out an eye.
The supervisor holds out his hand, and I give it to him.
"Some of your extractions have surgical damage," he says, examining the eye closely.
"I like to finish before they wake up," I say. "I have a hard time concentrating after that."
Almost on cue, my donor's remaining eyelid snaps open, and he begins to thrash and scream.
I sigh, pointing at the flailing body with my scalpel.
"See what I mean?" I say.
"You've been working too fast," my supervisor says, tightening the restraints on my donor as I work. I shrug, quickly carving out an eye.
The supervisor holds out his hand, and I give it to him.
"Some of your extractions have surgical damage," he says, examining the eye closely.
"I like to finish before they wake up," I say. "I have a hard time concentrating after that."
Almost on cue, my donor's remaining eyelid snaps open, and he begins to thrash and scream.
I sigh, pointing at the flailing body with my scalpel.
"See what I mean?" I say.
posted by Dean at 9/19/2005 11:30:00 AM
4 Comments:
that's such a lovely story. tell it again, please?
Hmm. A sarcastic request for an encore? Okay. Here it is from another point of view.
I wake suddenly to a sharpening pain in my skull. Two men in red surgical masks are staring at me.
One is holding a scalpel, and the other is rolling a small red and white ball between his fingers.
When I realize I have no depth perception, I want to tell the man to be careful with my eyeball, that I may need it later, but all that comes from my mouth is screaming.
eew yuck
thank you for that truly disturbing story. that may not, in fact, be very lovely from that vantage point.
Post a Comment
<< Home