Wendy's Words

This story is also on my website, but I will put it here as well. It was a short story I wrote for University studies in 2011. 

Wendy's Words

“Oh, No Wendy, not like this,” whispered Alice as she pushed away the dirty blanket and papers, that covered the now motionless body of Wendy. Alice reached out to touch the grey lined face. It was cold, lifeless, yet peaceful. She forced her fingers to search for a pulse at her neck, nothing. Alice quickly pulled away shaking. As she did some books fell to the ground frightening her. They were the ones that Alice had given the old lady on the first interview. She picked them up then fumbled for her mobile to ring an ambulance. She feared that they would ask her to try and resuscitate Wendy.

They asked the usual questions and Alice forced herself through the answers saying she would try and do as they wished. She started crying.

“I am sorry I can’t do it. She told me that she had cancer six months ago.”

 “I have to notify work so I can’t stay on the phone. I am sorry. I told you we’re at Ellis Street Southbank, under the Freeway Bridge and it is flooding here.”

Alice couldn’t talk anymore she had to hang up.

Still shaken she rang Joe.

            “Joe I found her, I think she is dead. The ambulance is on its way. Will you cover for me, Joe?”

            “Why care Alice? She is just an old street woman. He added, Gilmore the producer said we’re only to film from the cliffs not down there, Alice it is dangerous down there by the river it is flooding.”

            “Joe, real humans care!” Alice pushed the end call on her mobile with force thinking, you’re just impossible.

            Looking back at Wendy she thought, I care because of her eyes. They remind me of someone.

“ Well you’re free from cancer now, Wendy.” Alice mumbled as she took a closer look at the old street lady and noticed that she was still holding a pen.

            “She died writing!”

Flipping the pages of one of the books Alice saw that they had been filled with beautiful handwriting then she noticed a poem.

Night light,

City bright,

Shimmering, reflecting,

This artificial world.

Disrespecting naturally,

The real light.

The moonlight, stars bright,

Pinpointing the vastness

Of the endless universe.

Rainbow Serpent River

Forever twisting embracing,

This manmade metropolis.

Where does your true spirit dwell?

Whispering warnings

That time will change all.

Water deep remembering,

All living, longer than memory,

Can recall.

All I ask is,

Will it all crumble to dust?

To become discarded and forgotten as us?