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Fictional Experience Story about Child ***** Read Stories Online Free

in Literature
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My Fictional Experience Story about child

I was a special kind of child. Not that I was physically or mentally disable, I was an immune-ly disabled. I was one after one suffering from diseases and finally came to know about the main problem I had with me when I was 10.  Growing up with the respiratory disease has not been a blessing for me of course.  My disease always felt like a bother to me but not to my parents. I had to visit hospitals more frequently that schools which were always a complaint to my teachers. They worried that I will not have enough attendance to sit for an exam. I was very happily attending my classes after my operations until I fell as soon as I stood up to answer a simple math question.

I woke up with my mother right beside me sobbing and feeling all blue. I laughed at her because it had become all normal to me. When I looked around I was given IP drops and on another side, blood pint was hung. Dark red colored , so red to make me go pink from the yellowish tone. Well, that’s what my doctor said , I was anemic too. Could my life get any better?

fictional experience story

Days after I was admitted to my second home – the hospital because my lungs did not cooperate with my body. My nose denied to take up enough air to fill my lungs and thus my body would not function well. I always felt my nose was an insecure girlfriend who was stuck with the lung and no matter how many times lungs convinced the nose , it just did not cooperate. And then old friend guy – my mouth would his friend , the lung to settle in peace. I was excited because I was going to have a big operation and was really eager to wear the green OT dress. My doctor were all ready and I was taken to the OT. They would ask me stupid and basics questions and the nurses would inject a transparent liquid which made me forget everything thereafter.

I woke up in a ward and as the curtains were drawn to let my smaller corner get some air , I saw a guy a year older maybe laying in the bed and playing on his phone. He did not seem critical , maybe he was just admitted for a minor cause.In my mind , he was a depressed guy fed up with his life who talked to himself, looked at the stars with no charm in his face. Maybe his girl had left him or maybe he wanted to travel the world but here he was, in a hospital with an insane girl by his side who thought of him in her songs and about whom he least bothered. I laughed at my thoughts .  As I stared at him, he looked at me and I acted like a total freak. He smiled !! “Was he dumb?”, I said to myself. Days passed and we were getting to know each other. Well not like everything we never talked , we just looked at each other and smiled. All I could know was his daily routine – his mother would bring him food and he would deny and eat anyway. His father would come at the end of the day and would be throughout the night.

As I went through the thought on my mind , the boy called me but I did not listen due to my ear plugs. I looked at him and asked if he needed anything. “ oh so you are awake, I thought you died with the eye open”. How rude was that because of they way he laughed he might take it as a joke but I found that really offensive. “ I am sorry but I could not help myself from laughing at my own joke”, he said. I convinced him that it was okay. “ did the operation hurt?”, he asked again . “ oh yes, it will hurt a lot . They cut you open without any medicines” . He was scared and I was happy because I took a sweet revenge. “ I have a hole in my heart and I have an operation tomorrow. Doctor said I can even die”. I felt guilty on what I said but what was done can not be taken back.

My mother was really concerned about my eating. She always brought me mutton soup and rice , something I did not eat for last 15 years. My mother warned me to finish the food before she came back from the pharmacy. I looked at the boy . He was emptily looking at the ceiling. I called him twice but that did not interrupt him.

“ hey you?? The guy with the hole in the heart” . The guy looked at me vacantly. I was worried about what I said earlier about scaring him about the operation. It was the late night and my mother was fast asleep. “Maybe she was more than tired”. I looked at the boy and he was already looking at me. “ Do you want to go out ?”, the guy said. “This late? My mom will kill me if she finds out” “ She won’t know”. I agreed. We went to the terrace , breathing heavily. I looked at the stars ,” they say if you die you become star” . I said. “ I don’t believe in that. Stars are different and humans are different. Both have their own processes. I believe when the human dies , the soul separates from the body and starts to wander places”. I did not even get what he said , it was more than just words.” The moment was intense. I could even feel his eyes staring at me even though it was a pitch dark night. “ Can I hug you?”. I was shocked upon what he had said. I could not think and in a rush, I said yes. Maybe that’s what my subconscious mind wanted .  We hugged and things were getting awkward but a comfortable silence. “it was my first hug to a girl”, he said blushing. “ It was my first too.” Then we back to our respective beds and hoped for his operation.

He died the next day. I was not feeling anything – I was a dead living. He didn’t have to face the operation. It was like , the only thing his death was waiting for was meeting me at the end. I smiled at the fact that my first love was a boy whose name I never knew I felt a sudden guilt on my mind. Maybe it was my fault that he died. Maybe it was me that ruined him. I did not know what to do but had a feeling that he might just be happy as he would be.

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Jitendra Sahayogee

I am Jitendra Sahayogee, a writer of 12 Nepali literature books, film director of Maithili film & Nepali short movies, photographer, founder of the media house, designer of some websites and writer & editor of some blogs, has expert knowledge & experiences of Nepalese society, culture, tourist places, travels, business, literature, movies, festivals, celebrations.

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