Wait in the fire...
And I feel them drown my name
So easy to know and forget with this kiss
I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow
Grace—Jeff Buckley
Tuesday: Spent all of today baking muffins and cookies and other baked goods. Good times, except for the burn my arm received when I was taking a pan out of the oven. It's red and it hurts like the dingoes, but I sprayed some burn relief on it. Should be fine soon. At least I have a ton of sweet, fatty things to console me in my malady.
Wednesday: Couldn't sleep last night because that burn on my arm was living up to its name; felt like a furnace was flaming on the surface. Too tired and sore and freakin' feverish to go to midweek service, so I'm stuck at home until the Tylenol kicks in. IT'S CHRISTMAS WEEK AND I'M SICK.
Thursday: The burn is worse, go figure. I called Dr. P. Stein but all he told me was to take some Tylenol or Advil, drink plenty of liquids, and get my sleep--it's all I've been doing for the past twenty-four hours, and nothing. Nada. In fact, the spot where I was burned is getting WORSE. It's expanded and grown darker, almost a brown color. The veins surrounding it are starting to show through my skin with a deep yellowish color...it's disgusting and disturbing. Can't go to the hospital because I have no insurance and no extra money, and, on top of everything else, my cell phone up and died at two in the morning last night while I was trying to call Mom for home remedies. Ridiculous is what it is. Hmph.
Friday: Merry Christmas, but it's anything but merry. In fact, it's ho ho horrible. Pfft. I am reduced to corny jokes, and the burn is BIG. I mean, really big--and it's all veiny and almost like an enormous blackhead. I'd pop it if I weren't afraid of a fountain of black lava-puss splattering all over the remainder of my assorted holiday sweets. Oh, wait... crap. It's PULSING. I think--oh man. Shoulda called the hospital but I think that wha-- what the flamingo is happe
Later, Friday: Well. The burn is gone. There's a little hole in the skin there, but no more pulsing black puss. On the other hand, when I last stopped writing, the previously mentioned nasty things pulsed until something straight out of the Sci-Fi channel happened. The burn burst open, covering me in yucky sticky stuff that I won't go into detail about, and I found myself being sucked INTO MY ARM. Don't even ask me how, dear diary, because I'm telling you, I am now in the Twilight Zone.
Lots of darkness, occasionally a sparkle or two somewhere in the distance. Somehow, presumably since I was holding both you and my pen when the Sucky (Ha!) Event happened, I am able to write (while floating in complete darkness) (I think I've acquired magical night vision). I know I'm not dreaming because my dreams usually involve someone from Band of Brothers/Lord of the Rings/Crocodile Dundee which in turn makes them infinitely more pleasant than pulsing puss. Also I can't be dead because--well. I'm just too young and reasonably good looking. Plus, I just took a shower. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and godly people tend to die in nice, quiet ways.
Can't really think of anything else...the terrorists are not nearly this advanced, and Obama couldn't have meant this when he talked about Change...although apparently Yes I Can be physically sucked into my arm...and still emerge with both arms attached to my body.
Good grief. Floating in darkness really loosens up the fingers and thoughts. I think, though, that I'll see if I can sleep. If I lose you, diary, and you somehow make it back to civilization, tell the world that I did my best to represent the human race well.
Good night (Heh..night. Silent night, indeed).
Author's Note: Whoo! New story! I am so irregular with updates it's not even funny, but who knows how long my 2010 resolutions will last? No one. No idea who the OC's going to be for…if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism or maybe a story you'd like to pimp, please! Review! Chapter 2 will be up within the week, though. I can promise that.