John Coffey (i_help) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2008-02-22 16:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | john coffey, zz:status complete |
Helping (Narrative)
Simon had brought him to the hospital. It had been a nice walk, on a nice day. There were a lot of birds out, and not too many people in pain. Needing him.
Not along the way, anyway.
John couldn't really remember ever being in a hospital. Simon had said that there were people there who would need him, need help. But he just hadn't expected it to be on such a large scale. From the moment he walked into the door, it was there, all around him. And now that he knew it was here, he knew that he wouldn't be able to ever forget it unless he did something.
He'd walked away from Simon, not listening to the calls and exclamations coming from behind him as he made his way into the hospital. There were a lot of people here, more than half of them needed him. But there were certain ones who needed him more than others. He felt their pain. He felt them calling to him silently.
There was an intersection, he stared at a wall and to his left was the cancer wing. To his right, the burn ward. The pull from both sides was just as strong. For a moment, he didn't know which way to turn. Then he felt it. The blackness of somebody dying.
John Coffey turned right. He moved down the hallway slowly, but with purpose. He found the door of the room where the dying person was. He opened it to the protest of the nurses inside.
"I can help." He said softly. His eyes gaining that glimmer of intelligence.
There wasn't anybody in the room that could hold him back. He was too large, and too determined to be stopped. He could feel the pain from the figure on the bed. It wasn't too late. He had just enough time.
Carefully, John sat on the edge of the bed and looked into the half closed eyes behind bandages.
"It's okay." He told the figure. "You'll be okay."
There was very little skin to be seen. John placed a massive hand as gently as he could on the cheek of the person wrapped up beside him. The eyes opened, fully aware now. Looked directly at him. There was no pain in them. Not now. Not while he was so close. Not while he was sharing like this. He bent forward, placing his face close to the small slit in the bandages where the nose and mouth were, to allow breathing.
And then he inhaled.