She watched as the last bag was attached to the pipe. This time it would work. This time it had been calculated to the last corpuscle, she would be galvanised, reborn. The constant pain and endless surgical procedures, that blankness of waiting, would soon be justified. Precious blood oozed through the tube staining the residual salt solution, clouding it, and then flowed through the needle into her vein. She smiled, willing its life force to the furthest withered cells of her body. Her faced flushed with hope then blanched as she realised that her fingertips were still white and cold.
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This site is a place for anyone who is studying or has studied Creative Writing at Runshaw College, Lancashire, to post their writings, to share with other writers and Earth in general. Comments (preferably civilised) welcome! (Bloomsbury Group - watch out!)
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