Nothing Good
Ambulance in the middle of the night76 total reviews
Comment from nancy_e_davis
You certainly have a way of knowing how predictable people can be in different situations Lee. Your stories always tell it like it is in any situation. Great imagery and characters in this one. The peoples reactions so typical and human and most of the time so petty! Well done my friend. Well done. Nancy
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You certainly have a way of knowing how predictable people can be in different situations Lee. Your stories always tell it like it is in any situation. Great imagery and characters in this one. The peoples reactions so typical and human and most of the time so petty! Well done my friend. Well done. Nancy
Comment Written 07-Aug-2017
Comment from Thomas Bowling
Maybe I just want a smoke. Ever think of that, Sigmund?
I chuckled at this line. Sometimes a thing is just a thing. This story is full of great lines and gotchas. Good luck in the contest.
reply by the author on 07-Aug-2017
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Maybe I just want a smoke. Ever think of that, Sigmund?
I chuckled at this line. Sometimes a thing is just a thing. This story is full of great lines and gotchas. Good luck in the contest.
Comment Written 07-Aug-2017
reply by the author on 07-Aug-2017
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Thank you, Thomas. Glad you enjoyed. The contest was decided five years ago. Frankly, I don't recall how I did. Thanks again. Peace, Lee
Comment from apky
Great story, Lee. You might have posted it here back in 2012 (long before my time in FS) but it was the first time I read. As with all your reads, it was excellent.
I loved how you put this in the opening para:
I lay there with wide eyes and shallow breath, waiting for the intrusion to resound, even as I sensed there would be no instant replay for a bump in the night.
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Great story, Lee. You might have posted it here back in 2012 (long before my time in FS) but it was the first time I read. As with all your reads, it was excellent.
I loved how you put this in the opening para:
I lay there with wide eyes and shallow breath, waiting for the intrusion to resound, even as I sensed there would be no instant replay for a bump in the night.
Comment Written 07-Aug-2017
Comment from rama devi
Great story, my friend. SUBTLY SATIRICAL WITH A MOTTO CLEARLY CONVEYED.
It speaks volumes.
Flows (and unfolds) well. Superb deep POV and descriptive detail. Well paced.
I once drove a neighbor to the hospital (no ambulance was needed) and she never forgets it. A few months ago, that neighbor's husband died. he sister came to help her. When her sister saw me getting out of the car one day, she zoomed over and with a beaming smile as if we were family said, "Thank you for taking my sister to the hospital last year. You're an angel."
It's really not that hard to be helpful. I wish more people would realize how rewarding it is. I wish you had gone in the car with him to the hospital. Sigh. Maybe next time????
Love the honesty of this write.
NOTES
Love your word choices here:
Some sound that had already dissolved before its vibrations could jangle their way through the gauzy layers of my sleep.
*suggest trimming EVENTUALLY (to avoid two adverbs in a row and because it is implied) here:
Eventually, groggily, I realized the bedroom walls flashed a familiar, rhythmic semifor.
* Through thumb-parted venetian blinds
I believe the V should be capped in Venetian
*
Shrugging on a robe and stepping into my old(,) boat-shoe ersatz slippers, I scuffled into the living room.
Love your word choices there too...shrugging and scuffled. Yeah! And later, scuttled, too. Great verbs!
*Years when I slept on eggshells,(no ,) and kept the EMTs on speed-dial.
*spacing typo:
Having given up my dead, perhaps I reckoned it time to put my own demise back on schedule.
Maybe trim BUT here:
But it appeared that every bulb in the house was lit, and the front door gaped a wide-open yellow rectangle.
I remembered how I felt when the ambulance parked, pulsing(,) in front of my own house.
SUPERB SIMILE: When I felt as thin and transparent as Saran Wrap.
*Instead, I squeezed through a narrowly gapped door and stood in the front porch shadows.
narrow-gap door
Love this phrase: the night-gawkers' vigil.
Outstanding alliteration and satire:
There were several congresses of five people, and more. Clusters of concern? Or merely cliques of the curious?
* I couldn't remember this kind of turn(-)out for her emergency room pick-ups.
*
Once more(,) I told myself, 't(T)his is none of your business; time to go back to bed.'
Clever line: Evidently, not all the pitfalls of smoking show up on chest x-rays.
Good descriptive simile:
"Jack," I called back with all the enthusiasm of a dull brick.
Here too: His feet were bare and paler than a frog's belly.
Good satire here too:
All I could think of was a rube hoping to sneak a peek under the tent flap of a carnival side-show.
8optional comma:
This time(,) Jack took a long draft from the red cup.
*The smell sent a sympathetic tequila(-)shiver through my body.
*
A woman in a manish EMT uniform stepped through the Fatal's open front door and jogged to the ambulance.
Mannish? or Man-like? manish is underlined by spell checker. Might reconsider it.
Well said: Least we can do is pry quietly." And good subtle pun on pry and pray! Was that intentional?
Great phrasing:
The gawk-clusters grew and slowly migrated in from both ends of the street as everyone tried to get closer to the action---a classic pajama pincer maneuver.
*
"Dick.(,)" I said.
Great line: "What do married people always argue about? Everything, and nothing much.
* The female technician I'd seen earlier,(no ,) pushed from the other end.
*Mr. Fatal came through the door and caught up with his wife(,) who was strapped to the wheeled stretcher.
Good simile (apt~!): while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
Love the empathetic observations here...totaly spot on:
The lights continued to blaze through the Fatal's windows as I watched my neighbor's silhouette flit back and forth, room to room. I knew what he was doing. Packing. Pajamas, robe, slippers, toothbrush, comb, favorite book or magazine. Most importantly, ID, insurance papers, and a current list of medications. He'd be leaving for the Emergency Room soon, bringing her everything she'd need, but frantic he'd forgotten something. Praying she'd still need it all, once he arrived.
Sweet:
I wanted to remind him to bring her eyeglasses and her dentures. Easy items to forget--especially for a man who'd probably never packed a bag in his life.
*When the chips are down(,) no one wants to hear from a smart-aleck.
Well said: Whatever, I remained rooted to the porch . . . feeling as though I had passed a torch. Or maybe a kidney stone.
Perfect closure here: I took a deep breath and told myself it was time to bag up her clothes for Goodwill.
I turned on every bulb in the house,(no ,) and left the front door wide open.
Knowing you'll fix minor spag and consider suggestions, six stars in advance.
Warmly, rd
reply by the author on 07-Aug-2017
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Great story, my friend. SUBTLY SATIRICAL WITH A MOTTO CLEARLY CONVEYED.
It speaks volumes.
Flows (and unfolds) well. Superb deep POV and descriptive detail. Well paced.
I once drove a neighbor to the hospital (no ambulance was needed) and she never forgets it. A few months ago, that neighbor's husband died. he sister came to help her. When her sister saw me getting out of the car one day, she zoomed over and with a beaming smile as if we were family said, "Thank you for taking my sister to the hospital last year. You're an angel."
It's really not that hard to be helpful. I wish more people would realize how rewarding it is. I wish you had gone in the car with him to the hospital. Sigh. Maybe next time????
Love the honesty of this write.
NOTES
Love your word choices here:
Some sound that had already dissolved before its vibrations could jangle their way through the gauzy layers of my sleep.
*suggest trimming EVENTUALLY (to avoid two adverbs in a row and because it is implied) here:
Eventually, groggily, I realized the bedroom walls flashed a familiar, rhythmic semifor.
* Through thumb-parted venetian blinds
I believe the V should be capped in Venetian
*
Shrugging on a robe and stepping into my old(,) boat-shoe ersatz slippers, I scuffled into the living room.
Love your word choices there too...shrugging and scuffled. Yeah! And later, scuttled, too. Great verbs!
*Years when I slept on eggshells,(no ,) and kept the EMTs on speed-dial.
*spacing typo:
Having given up my dead, perhaps I reckoned it time to put my own demise back on schedule.
Maybe trim BUT here:
But it appeared that every bulb in the house was lit, and the front door gaped a wide-open yellow rectangle.
I remembered how I felt when the ambulance parked, pulsing(,) in front of my own house.
SUPERB SIMILE: When I felt as thin and transparent as Saran Wrap.
*Instead, I squeezed through a narrowly gapped door and stood in the front porch shadows.
narrow-gap door
Love this phrase: the night-gawkers' vigil.
Outstanding alliteration and satire:
There were several congresses of five people, and more. Clusters of concern? Or merely cliques of the curious?
* I couldn't remember this kind of turn(-)out for her emergency room pick-ups.
*
Once more(,) I told myself, 't(T)his is none of your business; time to go back to bed.'
Clever line: Evidently, not all the pitfalls of smoking show up on chest x-rays.
Good descriptive simile:
"Jack," I called back with all the enthusiasm of a dull brick.
Here too: His feet were bare and paler than a frog's belly.
Good satire here too:
All I could think of was a rube hoping to sneak a peek under the tent flap of a carnival side-show.
8optional comma:
This time(,) Jack took a long draft from the red cup.
*The smell sent a sympathetic tequila(-)shiver through my body.
*
A woman in a manish EMT uniform stepped through the Fatal's open front door and jogged to the ambulance.
Mannish? or Man-like? manish is underlined by spell checker. Might reconsider it.
Well said: Least we can do is pry quietly." And good subtle pun on pry and pray! Was that intentional?
Great phrasing:
The gawk-clusters grew and slowly migrated in from both ends of the street as everyone tried to get closer to the action---a classic pajama pincer maneuver.
*
"Dick.(,)" I said.
Great line: "What do married people always argue about? Everything, and nothing much.
* The female technician I'd seen earlier,(no ,) pushed from the other end.
*Mr. Fatal came through the door and caught up with his wife(,) who was strapped to the wheeled stretcher.
Good simile (apt~!): while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
Love the empathetic observations here...totaly spot on:
The lights continued to blaze through the Fatal's windows as I watched my neighbor's silhouette flit back and forth, room to room. I knew what he was doing. Packing. Pajamas, robe, slippers, toothbrush, comb, favorite book or magazine. Most importantly, ID, insurance papers, and a current list of medications. He'd be leaving for the Emergency Room soon, bringing her everything she'd need, but frantic he'd forgotten something. Praying she'd still need it all, once he arrived.
Sweet:
I wanted to remind him to bring her eyeglasses and her dentures. Easy items to forget--especially for a man who'd probably never packed a bag in his life.
*When the chips are down(,) no one wants to hear from a smart-aleck.
Well said: Whatever, I remained rooted to the porch . . . feeling as though I had passed a torch. Or maybe a kidney stone.
Perfect closure here: I took a deep breath and told myself it was time to bag up her clothes for Goodwill.
I turned on every bulb in the house,(no ,) and left the front door wide open.
Knowing you'll fix minor spag and consider suggestions, six stars in advance.
Warmly, rd
Comment Written 07-Aug-2017
reply by the author on 07-Aug-2017
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Thank you, Oh Great One, for this special (and exhaustive) review. As predicted, I have made all the corrections, and even adopted all of your suggestions.
I suspect you sensed this piece is kind of special to me. Your thoroughness and detail are very much appreciated. If someone held my feet to the flames and forced me to submit something for publication, I'd probably choose this story first. I added about 300 words since the original post, and I think they pay off. Another three hundred words, and I might submit it to the Seal Committee.
I hope you'll accept an honorary Thumb for this, rd. If I'm right about the rules, as the incumbent, you're ineligible this month.
Nobody reviews me like you do, but I like to encourage those who try.
Thank you again, rd. You've made my morning.
Peace, Lee
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Aw, thanks for your very kind reply and also for the honorary thumb. I love that idea, as I hate to see the thumbs wasted when i would not qualify. I did sense this to be special, and I can see why. I do think it to be worthy of a seal, too.
Making your morning makes my evening (almost 11 pm here in India).
Peace,
rd
Comment from pbomar1115
A similar ambulance emergency event of someone else always conjure up understanding. And when it happens to a loved one, it can be easy to acquaint another to what is important. I enjoyed the story.
Phillip
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A similar ambulance emergency event of someone else always conjure up understanding. And when it happens to a loved one, it can be easy to acquaint another to what is important. I enjoyed the story.
Phillip
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
Comment from pome lover
so this is a real scenario, one you experienced. If so, I'm sorry you're smoking again. But then again, maybe you're not.
You're a natural born story teller. I can certainly say that.
And you tell it naturally. Good descriptions of people and feelings.
I am curious though about something. Why did you leave the front door open? Don't you have bugs where you live? :)
Good account of a replay on your street.
pome lover
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so this is a real scenario, one you experienced. If so, I'm sorry you're smoking again. But then again, maybe you're not.
You're a natural born story teller. I can certainly say that.
And you tell it naturally. Good descriptions of people and feelings.
I am curious though about something. Why did you leave the front door open? Don't you have bugs where you live? :)
Good account of a replay on your street.
pome lover
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
Comment from Sis Cat
A breathtakingly painful story that brought relevance to my life as a man grieving the loss of his mother witnesses an ambulance pulling up to his neighbors' house in the middle of the night. This is a quiet, contemplative story as neighbors gather to watch. Even I, a reader, become a gawker at this unfolding tragedy and mystery:
Many of my neighbors from up and down the street--their slumber evidently disturbed as mine had been--stared openly. Some from lighted porches. Others in huddled clusters out on front lawns. They wore pajamas, robes, and various other forms of sleepwear appropriate to this unseasonably mild April night. Almost every house on the cul-de-sac offered at least one representative to the night-gawkers' vigil.
Your details are surreal and vivid, such as this passage:
The male EMT rested the stretcher on the lip of the truck and disengaged the front supports while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
Cool efficiency in the face of dire emergency is best left to the professionals. Disorientation and disarray are every loved one's rights. When the chips are down no one wants to hear from a smart-aleck.
The narrator wants to help and say something to Mr Fatal:
Our eyes locked and we exchanged conspiratorial nods. He drove off, and part of me wanted to be with him. To offer him support? Or just for old time's sake? Whatever, I remained rooted to the porch . . . feeling as though I had passed a torch. Or maybe a kidney stone.
After an evening of passivity, the narrator is roused to action in the final scene, reminding me of my actions as I ended one phase of grieving over my mother:
On my way back to bed, I stopped at the door to my mother's bedroom. I turned on the light. She wasn't there, of course, but something of her still was. I took a deep breath and told myself it was time to bag up her clothes for Goodwill.
This is a quiet, contemplative story I have not seen from you before. It has deep relevance. While I do not know how you did in the non-fiction contest five years ago, I urge you to submit this to literary publications.
Thank you, Lee, for reviving this post from the past which resonates in the present.
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A breathtakingly painful story that brought relevance to my life as a man grieving the loss of his mother witnesses an ambulance pulling up to his neighbors' house in the middle of the night. This is a quiet, contemplative story as neighbors gather to watch. Even I, a reader, become a gawker at this unfolding tragedy and mystery:
Many of my neighbors from up and down the street--their slumber evidently disturbed as mine had been--stared openly. Some from lighted porches. Others in huddled clusters out on front lawns. They wore pajamas, robes, and various other forms of sleepwear appropriate to this unseasonably mild April night. Almost every house on the cul-de-sac offered at least one representative to the night-gawkers' vigil.
Your details are surreal and vivid, such as this passage:
The male EMT rested the stretcher on the lip of the truck and disengaged the front supports while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
Cool efficiency in the face of dire emergency is best left to the professionals. Disorientation and disarray are every loved one's rights. When the chips are down no one wants to hear from a smart-aleck.
The narrator wants to help and say something to Mr Fatal:
Our eyes locked and we exchanged conspiratorial nods. He drove off, and part of me wanted to be with him. To offer him support? Or just for old time's sake? Whatever, I remained rooted to the porch . . . feeling as though I had passed a torch. Or maybe a kidney stone.
After an evening of passivity, the narrator is roused to action in the final scene, reminding me of my actions as I ended one phase of grieving over my mother:
On my way back to bed, I stopped at the door to my mother's bedroom. I turned on the light. She wasn't there, of course, but something of her still was. I took a deep breath and told myself it was time to bag up her clothes for Goodwill.
This is a quiet, contemplative story I have not seen from you before. It has deep relevance. While I do not know how you did in the non-fiction contest five years ago, I urge you to submit this to literary publications.
Thank you, Lee, for reviving this post from the past which resonates in the present.
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
Comment from hvysmker
Don't know what woke me. Some sound that had already dissolved before its vibrations could jangle their way through the gauzy layers of my sleep. I lay there with wide eyes and shallow breath, waiting for the intrusion to resound, even as I sensed there would be no instant replay for a bump in the night.
*** Vivid picture. And a good hook.
Ah, damned pop-psychology, the know-it-all of modern psuedo-sciences. Maybe I just want a smoke. Ever think of that, Sigmund?
*** Damned right! Although I went to e-smokes, if cigs went down in price I'd return in a moment. Electronic cigs are so much cheaper.
The male EMT rested the stretcher on the lip of the truck and disengaged the front supports while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
*** Exactly.
The story reminds me of when my father was forced into a nursing home. In his last years he was impossible to live with. I'd moved in with him years before when it was apparent he couldn't take care of himself. He was approaching ninety at the time. He was grouchy even then and grew grouchier as the time wore on. He didn't have a kind word to say to anyone, so they stayed away rather than be reviled in a visit. It even got to where I'd spend days in my room when home from work, coming out only to cook and clean for him. Then came the time when I couldn't take care of him and work. Me and my sister enrolled him in a nursing home. I'll always remember, though, stepping into the house from the back porch with him gone. It was traumatic to me, as though a dark cloud had been lifted from the house. I hurried to open drapes he'd insisted on keeping closed, letting sunlight in for the first time in maybe twenty years. The difference was hard to believe. Now going on eighty, I vow not to become the same as him at the last. Going to hell will no doubt be bad enough. Why should I visit it on myself and others before that time is due?
Charlie
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Don't know what woke me. Some sound that had already dissolved before its vibrations could jangle their way through the gauzy layers of my sleep. I lay there with wide eyes and shallow breath, waiting for the intrusion to resound, even as I sensed there would be no instant replay for a bump in the night.
*** Vivid picture. And a good hook.
Ah, damned pop-psychology, the know-it-all of modern psuedo-sciences. Maybe I just want a smoke. Ever think of that, Sigmund?
*** Damned right! Although I went to e-smokes, if cigs went down in price I'd return in a moment. Electronic cigs are so much cheaper.
The male EMT rested the stretcher on the lip of the truck and disengaged the front supports while his partner slid Mrs Fatal into the vehicle like you'd shove a pizza into the oven.
*** Exactly.
The story reminds me of when my father was forced into a nursing home. In his last years he was impossible to live with. I'd moved in with him years before when it was apparent he couldn't take care of himself. He was approaching ninety at the time. He was grouchy even then and grew grouchier as the time wore on. He didn't have a kind word to say to anyone, so they stayed away rather than be reviled in a visit. It even got to where I'd spend days in my room when home from work, coming out only to cook and clean for him. Then came the time when I couldn't take care of him and work. Me and my sister enrolled him in a nursing home. I'll always remember, though, stepping into the house from the back porch with him gone. It was traumatic to me, as though a dark cloud had been lifted from the house. I hurried to open drapes he'd insisted on keeping closed, letting sunlight in for the first time in maybe twenty years. The difference was hard to believe. Now going on eighty, I vow not to become the same as him at the last. Going to hell will no doubt be bad enough. Why should I visit it on myself and others before that time is due?
Charlie
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
Comment from EverInParadise
This is such a good read, the word drawn pictures specific and true to form. You definitely are a superior writer. I enjoyed the read and related to this from my life and the loss of my mother several years ago. Glad to offer 6 stars. I'm a fan.
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This is such a good read, the word drawn pictures specific and true to form. You definitely are a superior writer. I enjoyed the read and related to this from my life and the loss of my mother several years ago. Glad to offer 6 stars. I'm a fan.
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
Comment from country ranch writer
Being awakened in the middle of the night by flashing lights and an ambulance showing up next door is unnerving to say the least. I don't know my neighbors because I like my privacy. One night the ladies husband had passed away. We never knew he existed because she would leave him in the house by himself while she ran around gown. He was confined to his bed and couldn't get up. It was sad to find this out. He died of cardiac arrest they said.
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Being awakened in the middle of the night by flashing lights and an ambulance showing up next door is unnerving to say the least. I don't know my neighbors because I like my privacy. One night the ladies husband had passed away. We never knew he existed because she would leave him in the house by himself while she ran around gown. He was confined to his bed and couldn't get up. It was sad to find this out. He died of cardiac arrest they said.
Comment Written 06-Aug-2017
