I couldn't wait to get another instalment out so here is Chapter Four. I'm sorry they've all been so sad lately but I am going to improve on that in the coming chapters, hehehe.
I have big ideas for this story so please inform me if it drags or is getting a little to boring! I am again skipping a few months so it is set around November 1914, please say if you don't like me skipping big parts its just to keep the story flowing.
I own nothing.
O life with the sad seared face,
I weary of seeing thee,
And thy draggled cloak, and thy hobbling pace,
And thy too-forced pleasantry!
I know what thou would'st tell
Of Death, Time, Destiny -
I have known it long, and know, too, well
What it all means for me.
But canst thou not array
Thyself in rare disguise,
And feign like truth, for one mad day,
That Earth is Paradise?
- Thomas Hardy
At first Sybil had found London, the big city and bussling life, fascinating however after a month of the same scenery it grew very monotonous.
''Sybil darling, are you awake?'' Aunt Roasamund yelled from her downstairs library.
''Yes Aunt Rosamund, I shall be down in a moment'' Sybil have excelled brilliantly in her nursing and she enjoyed her work more and more everyday. During her time in London however independant she may feel she was still dressed and had her hair made up by a Housemaid much to her annoyance. So as the young women tided Sybil's hair she thanked her and retreated downstairs to greet her Aunt.
''Oh, Morning Sybil dear'' Aunt Rosamund greeted her niece pleasantly calmly sipping a cup of tea.
''Good Morning Aunt, is there any post?'' Her much anticipated letters from Branson had become dormant over the past few weeks. Her heart swelled with longing.
''I'm afraid not Sybil, why so interested?'' Rosamund raised her eyebrows in suspicion ''Have you a beau I do not know of?''At first she did not hear Rosamund speak, still nothing she thought, where was he?. A mental image appeared in Sybil's mind of Tom, Her brave and courageous Tom, lying face down punctured and broken in the treacherous no-mans-land he hand spoke of so darkly.
Sybil mustered a smile at her Aunt, oh if only she knew. ''No, nothing like that, I am simply wondering'' Sybil swiftly sat down and devoured her breakfast, bid goodbye to her Aunt and left for the Hospital.
She stepped out onto the same cobbled stones, a flash memory of the count in Ripon crawled into her brain making her sigh heavily and briskly walk down the same road she did everyother day. The hospital was not far from her Aunts so she walked the short way there everyday at 7.00am sharp.
Today was the day she had forever dreaded, Sybil and some colleages were to be promoted to Sister of the Ward which held the Mentally ill patients, this simply mean't the Soliders whom had been overcome with depression, Hallucinations, and worst of all Shell-Shock due to their time on the battlesfields, the senior nurses had explained to them that it was an awful illness to witness as many men would thrash and scream in their beds. They were forbidden to mention the war or anything to do with the events occuring around europe; at that time around such people as it may trigger a distressing memory. Sybil reached the hospital and was greeted by fellow Doctors and Nurses whom she had become aquainted with.
''Nurse Crawley'' She whipped around to behold the person whom had spoken her name. It was Elizabeth, Lizzy to her friends, the two were both from Yorkshire and came from well-of backgrounds. Also Lizzie, like Sybil had a loved one on the frontline.
''Any news from Tom?''The young women asked bareing a slight smile. Sybil had spilled her heart out to the girl about Branson and she, their forbidden love, and exhuberation topics of conversation.
''Not yet I'm afraid'' Was all she could reply before Lizzie was ushered away by a senior nurse to check upon the wounded whom were arriving in truck loads from the front.
Sybil entered the grand hospital and quickly found her way towards the ward she needed to attend, she went to the Senior Nurses desk and appointed to the women that she had been transferred into Ward M11 the elder lady pointed in the right direction and Sybil followed her path until she reached the bright and spacious ward.
''Nurse Crawley at last, thankyou ever so much for helping us here, we have just recieved 14 news patients from the trenches in Ypres, the men are extremely shaken and isolated.'' The young women ushered a dumbfounded Sybil around the vast ward. The mass of men laying in the proximity took her breath away, poor poor fellows she thought noticing men ... boys no older than 17 crying and praying for mercy.
''Is their a patient list mam?'' Sybil found it would be much easier if she were to know the names of those in her care, ''Cetainly'' She brandished a long scripted list of the names, beds and medication of her patients. ''Thankyou'' Sybil replied as she delve into her work catering for everyman whom she could draw eyes on, hoping to brighten their turbulent minds.
''Nurse'' The voice came from behind, a tallish man with sweeping ash-coloured hair, he had slits for eyes around them his skin was battered and bruised causing his eye lids and bags to become puffy and swolen, his voice was croaky and broken. Sybil pitied the poor man, taking the seat next his bed she spoke in a soft calm voice. ''Yes, sir?'' She smiled her brightest smile.
The man laying down seemed mentally capable, though his face was punctured and beaten he seemed of sound mind through his manurisms and spoke with a calm, albeit quiet and crackling, voice.
''Please may,'' he paused for a breath, his nose was beated and bloodied, breathing seemed a task ''may I have some water?''
Sybil steadily took the glass cup of water, carefully lifting the patients head up to allow him to sip the cool water, some trickled down his mouth and the moisture hit the sheets. ''Sorry'' he breathed as she lay his head back on the pillow. Sybil smiled again at the man, ''it's quite alright ... - ''
Sybil had forgotten she held the patients names in her hand, looking for his cot number she found it above the soliders head,19 it read, she scrolled with her finger down the pages and reaching number 19 her heart stopped as all the blood drained from her face.
Cot 19 - Wounded, severe shell-shock and insomnia - Corporal Branson, Tom.
ooooooh, is it him? or not? Well you'll have to eait for the next one which shall be up either tomorrow or later today (as its 00:19am in england) hehhee.
Your reviewing would make it arrive much faster though, please tell me if I am going to quick with the story?
Please feel free to message me, or review if you have any idea's for another chapter ot whole other story. Please I'd love to here your opinions.
thankyoou sooo much for reading and I will surely post more soon!
:D