Sunday, 1 March 2015

A Short Story: The New Arrival

The New Arrival

The peace had truly been shattered. Piercing shrieks filled the air; scream, screech, squawk. Sickly, cloying milk-smells pervaded the entire house. Every room was crammed with clutter: used bottles, worn nappies, disposed wipes. I navigated my way through the room; I waded through the ocean of brand-new stuffed animals of every kind. The once pristine front room was now chaos. Secluded by jumble, the floor was no longer visible, as though a tsunami had surged through the place and left behind a sea of wreckage. My life had changed forever.
  “We’re home!” my parents had trilled that spring morning, proudly pushing their bundle of joy: a new arrival. A baby brother. “Aren't you thrilled not to be an only child?”. I angrily stormed off up to my room and slammed the door so thunderously that the house began to tremble. No longer would it be quiet, no longer would I be the favourite child, no longer would anything be as it was before.
  It was a dark winter’s night. I was woken suddenly. Not by newborn cries but by the absence of them. The house was eerily still. I rushed into his oddly quiet room. I scrambled around; searching for a heartbeat but I found nothing. They both burst through the door, my parents were devastated, as they too knew something was wrong. They cried to the paramedics on the phone; they explained that their baby was no longer breathing. The fear overwhelmed my body. The fear that my baby brother may no longer be alive.
  My gaze was rooted on the heart monitor that was constantly beeping away. I stared hopelessly at the endless ropes of tubing that seemed to take over his tiny body. At any flicker of movement, I leaped to his side in hope that my brother was alive. His helpless little form was crumpled and struggling to survive. The weak baby was surrounded by hospital officials who only spoke in hushed undertones. My mother leaned over his cot “Please don’t go my angel” she wept through tears that stained her face.
  The guilt crushed my heart. What if we were to lose him? What if his only memory of me would be a cold, harsh face and voice? I would forever live in shame, knowing that I had not treated my brother fairly. If only there was something that could be done, something that I could do.
  The apprehensive atmosphere was quickly changed. A doctor declared “Your baby will only survive with a matching blood transfusion”. It had struck me that I could finally help, that I could give blood to save his innocent life.
  I sensed the needle being jabbed into my arm whilst I looked away. The dark red blood traveled through the tube. Never had I felt so relieved in my entire life.
  The time had came to return home. We had proudly captured the memory, we posed in front of the hospital with the sleeping baby who grasped a new teddy. A present: from me.

This post was a bit different from normal, but I thought I would share this short story with you because I recently had to come up with it for an English controlled assessment. I hope you enjoyed and be sure to stick around for future posts! :) 
Becky x