So, I wrote this orginally for Creative Writing.
But I strayed off the orginal subject.
Please remember this is nowhere near done.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
But I strayed off the orginal subject.
Please remember this is nowhere near done.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
Gerard looked in the mirror. A pale face etched with fatigue and dark bags lining the brown orbs that made their presence known on any other given day. They were now glazed over, ever so slightly. He looked down at the sink, and turned the knob to the faucet. He leaned over, pulling back the hammock of skin around the white fleshy thing. Cupping his fingers, he splashed the droplets into his sockets. He sighed and rolled his shoulders to stretch.
So dead looking. Oh so dead. He looked at the black short cropped hair, that slightly covered the black catapillar eyebrows furrowing on his forehead. Part of his shoulders showed, past the pale numerous timely worn hospital gown. He looked down at the bare feet, toes curled on the cold tile. And, as doing so, he was suddenly plagued with a wave of drowsyness, and stumbled his way to the bed. He crashed down, in a more-than-zombie-like fashion, curling himself onto giant pillows, pulling clean sheets over his freezing body.
Everyone always said the first round of chemo was Hell, he just didn't expect it to be like this. They always said they'd lost their hair, too. Subconsiously, Gerard stroked his locks in disdain. He grabbed a clump, and tugged. A few strands gave way, abd lay limp inbetween his appendaged fingers. Maybe it was starting to happen. He was losing his mind. He was going to loose his hair, become some vegetable, pale and withdrawn, body forced to deteroiate on itself, as the tumor ate away his muscles first, then turned on him once again to gnaw at his bones. But maybe they could stop the begnin tumor from turning malignant, and stop the malicious disease. Yes. That's what he'd hope'd would happen.
The phone on the table rattled next to him, noisly. He lifted a fragile hand, and shakily held the phone to his face.
"Hello?" He said, before letting out a deep cough. He cleared the phlem from his throat. All those years of smoking were finally catching up to him.
"Hey, it's just me." Frank's voice, slightly melancholy, still had it's normal cheer attached. "How ya feeling?"
"Like a piece of s**t ran over by a thousand semis." Gerard let out a sigh.
"Well, that's nice." Frank let out a chuckle. "I talked to Tim and the guys. They understan what you're going through. We decided to cut the tour short for now. And I got you a temporary leave for this one last show."
"Cool," Gerard said. He didn't know what to think.
"And I got the fan from the contest, too." Frank said.
"Great! That's awesome!" Gerard smiled. If he was going to die, he'd atleast still inspire somebody while he was still kicking it.
"Alright, I'll come by to get you later." Frank said, cutting off. "Sleep good, and rest up." He hung up. Gerard crashed the phone back to it's cradle.
Sleep.. It's just what he needed, and intended to do. Within 5 minutes, he was out.
---
Frank looked at the girl. She was bigger in size, but not to big. She had jet black hair, crayola red streaking through it. She had a lip ring, that stood out on her tannish skin. She wore a (Red) t-shirt, the black tee with 'INSPI(RED)' printed in red block letters, and a pair of black cargo pants rolled up a little under the knee. Her feet were in nothing but black flip-flops. Her toes were covered in a luminescent red color, sparkly. She flashed him a smile, and held out her hand.
"Marie," She had a pleasant voice. Not to low, not to high. He gently grasped her hand.
"Frank." He shot her a smile back.
"Yeah, I know." Marie said, just to laugh.
