morrighain (morrighain) wrote in ctd_epiphany,

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Shane at St Jude Hospital

      Shane didn´t like hospitals. There was something about them that made him feel... terribly down. It was not the smell neither the green colour that seemed to invade every single corner of the building. It was not the look of the ones who were waiting for some attention neither the faked smile on the nurses faces. It was not the coffe machines producing dark water that nobody on his mind would call coffee neither the posters on the walls telling you to eath healthy, to keep a good position when working with the computer and to control your colesstherol. It was the sadness, it was the emptyness, it was the dark veil of mundanity covering every single thing he touched around there. It itched, it stang, it hurt. It looked at him from the deep abyss of the Nothing and twisted her satyr soul into an spiral of pain and hesitation. He couldn´t cope with it... But, when you have a friend, you have a treasure. And Thomas was the finest jewel... if only he could understand mixing drugs and alcohol was not the more sensible idea in the world!

       Now, now... in that particular moment, he was at the Hospital. Sharing a room of about 25 meters squared with another 20 people who, liked him, waited for anybody to come and inform them about the state of their friends and relatives. When they arrived, Thomas was unconcious. The young boy stuck his hands into the pockets of his tight black jeans as his cherry converse shoes licked the tiles of the waiting lounge once and again, up and down, like a father-to-be waiting to discover anything about his beloved. He wore an old The Clash t-shirt, so old it was more grey than black. On his chest Joe Strummer exhaled the smoke of his cigarette and, if the ambient hand´t been so hostile for him, those with the second sight will discover the old star staring at them and smiling in a most defiant way. Though, for shane, this was a place of Winter and not a temple of Hope.
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