English Piece

Why, hi there.
I suppose it's about time I start on a new blogskin yet again. But not today.
Instead, I will continue work on a story that started out as a write up for English class. :D

Here's how it begins.

        I am Karen Smith and I had just awoken from a yearlong coma. Or so I’ve been told. 

        Barely conscious, I am in the hospital, alone and confused, frazzled at just how little of anything I can remember. How did I get here? What happened? I gaze on over to my hand to see a ring of gold. I held it up and let it glitter in the light. I’m married to Daniel Smith, and other than my older sister, he’s the only family I have left. I smile at how it glistens for, in all this confusion, Daniel’s the lone thing I know I am certain of. The room is painted a brilliant white, typically what you’d expect of any old other hospital room. The space is blindingly bright and with the visible vase of what I gather to be get-well soon flowers, it feels almost happy; a complete contradiction to everything I am feeling. Why am I so sad? My trail of thought is suddenly interrupted by a faint knock on the door. A nurse creeps cautiously in, evidently careful to not cause a stir. She’s a plump woman, stout, with a face so kind. “Good morning, Mrs Smith”, she beams as she greets me with a warm, gentle smile. “I see we’re doing wonderful today. Your sister called and said she’s flying in to come visit. She should be here in a couple of hours.” I softly nod with the little energy I have and as she left, I, in a slight daze, start on the food she had placed before me, trying too hard to remember the face of my own sister.

       Prudently, I eat with utensils my hands seemed to have nearly forgotten how to use. Soon enough, I fall asleep and I do not wake until I feel a hand brush through my hair. She’s already here? A kiss befalls my head. I open my eyes and, to my pleasant surprise, there he is, right beside me. Daniel, my beloved, is here, with my hand held in his so tightly you’d never think he’d ever let go. He stares at me with such tender, loving eyes, glassy from the tears I can see welling up. “Welcome back, cupcake”, he whispers in a voice that cannot possibly be any sweeter; a voice that fails not to warm my heart. Right then and there, I feel safe – I am home.

I like how it turned out. Now, the only thing left to do is to figure out the rest of the story. :))
Constructive criticism would be lovely.

And, here's a random painting for you! :D

Ever since I last painted during the recollection last week, I can't seem to get enough of it. Made this when Mich slept over. :D