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> NIGHT RIDE, Silver - Odin 9
Psyche
post Oct 9 07, 14:07
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Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting





Night Ride

The ambulance slices thin night air through inconsequential streets. I sit in the back, beside the frail man. Oddly, I get the feeling that I’m in a camper: there’s the burner, bottled water in a corner, emergency kit, seats for kids.

We pitch and bounce over cobblestones in peripheral avenues. I worry about the frail man: internal ruptures, bleeding, that sort of thing… maybe something inside him will snap. His head rolls sideways and he drops a thin leg over the edge of the stretcher. Bending forward, I lift it back, but the medic says: "It’s OK, let him be, he’s well strapped in." I glance at him doubtfully. The medic languidly places a cushion to protect his head.

Street lamps peer at me through small ambulance windows, playing with shifting shadows in the hushed interior. Now and then a lone policeman on a corner lifts an arm in respectful salute. I spot silhouettes of drunken men stumbling out of late night bars. A few valiant prostitutes cluster nearby. The ambulance’s harsh beams focus briefly on their wary, scarlet lips. I wonder about them, their lives, their kids maybe, their men, different things… A startled night bird swoops up from a pile of rubbish, carrying nameless refuse in its beak. I shudder at the coarse scene. Other worlds, no less real than my own relatively sheltered one, pass in procession before my eyes.

I’d imagined the siren would have wailed constantly, but no, we make our soundless way through night time echoes, stopping at all the streetlights. Not an urgent case, I suppose, calculating in my mind the frail man’s earlier convulsions, the galloping fever, and his heart condition.

He still has a high fever. Back home, we’d been putting loads of iced-cubed towels under his armpits and on his groin, following instructions over the phone. Now he looks at me through the eyes of a scared child. I smile at him and hold his hand. He doesn’t appear to know me, but he grasps my hand weakly, unmoving, calmer now.

One more bend in the road and we’re in the Emergency Unit. The stretcher slides out neatly. Cool morning wind doesn’t care about the frail man wrapped in a light coverlet. Medics give orders, personnel in green move fast; things are under control, it seems. He’s hurried through a door that snaps at me: Restricted Area!

I wait on a hard black plastic chair. My mind wanders. For some reason, I remember the frail man waving his hand at me in greeting, as I used to descend the stairway from night university. He was straight and strong then, handsome. His smile was contagious, bursting with energy. We’d rush off to a nearby stand-up grill to eat good Argentine steaks, washed down with glasses of Mendocino wine. Then we’d stroll out to walk around the city streets for a while, before heading home.

Now I sit on the unfriendly chair and wonder how long they’ll keep the frail man in the Unit. Nearly five hours stagger by; my head nods regularly.

The hostile door swings open. A doctor tells me that I can take him home now. “Just keep putting ice-cubed towels on him, if the fever returns”, he says authoritatively. I dare to ask what treatment they’d given him. “Oh, nothing special”, remarks the doctor, “mainly we used ice”. “Oh…” I say dimly.

The ambulance drives us home; the frail man smiles faintly, perhaps remembering his welcome, secure bed. The return trip is slow, weaving through early morning, impatient traffic. The driver uses the siren intermittently.

I’m too tired to reflect on anything now, nor even to glance out the windows.

By Psyche

Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2007.
All rights reserved as an unpublished work.


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Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

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Cleo_Serapis
post Oct 9 07, 15:13
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Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep



Thank you for your entry into Odin's Opposition! troy.gif

Perhaps you'll rise up, drink from the Well of Wisdom and be crowned the 'bringer of victory'? cali.gif

Best of luck in the battle! vic.gif

~Mosaic Musings Staff knight.gif


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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Collaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind.

"I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. Kanter

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

"Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.

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Cleo_Serapis
post Dec 2 07, 13:31
Post #3


Mosaic Master
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Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep



Congratulations Sylvia on your Silver placement! dance.gif

You have risen up, drank from the Well of Wisdom and have been crowned the ‘bringer of victory’! rose.gif champagne.gif

Well done!
pharoah2.gif


·······IPB·······

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Collaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind.

"I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. Kanter

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

"Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.

MM Award Winner
 
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Psyche
post Dec 3 07, 10:50
Post #4


Ornate Oracle
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Group: Praetorian
Posts: 8,770
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting



Thank you, Cleo! Wonderful surprise. I'm so pleased. But all the stories are extremely good.
Hugs, Sylvia xmaswindow.gif


·······IPB·······

Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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