Zeppelin

Zeppelin Zeppelin

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

Zeppelin wakes up to find out her brother has shot her in the head. She then remininsces about her child hood and discovers the life ahead of her will be a challenge.

Summary

Zeppelin wakes up to find out her brother has shot her in the head. She then remininsces about her child hood and discovers the life ahead of her will be a challenge.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Zeppelin

Author Chapter Note

Zeppelin wakes up to find out her brother has shot her in the head. She then remininsces about her child hood and discovers the life ahead of her will be a challenge.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: July 02, 2011

Reads: 350

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: July 02, 2011

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My eyes studied the ceiling with a blank, lifeless expression. Beeps and doctors sharing small talk flooded my ears. It smelt clean and sanitary like, a doctor's office. I had wires running up my forearms, bandages scattered about me. Footsteps echoed into the room and I heard someone saying my name. "Zeppelin," a warm, sweet voice said repetitively. Finally, I made eye-contact. It was a woman dressed in white with a cart beside her. She had brown, spiral-curled hair drooping to her shoulders, and faded green eyes that narrowed upon me. "I have your breakfast here," she said, pausing. I stared at her without a clue. "Uh, we have you some pancakes, applesauce, and orange juice," continuing, she seemed as if she was trying to insist on something, or get me to realize something. I looked at her in dead silence. She frowned, and had a worrisome look on her face. Perhaps she was hoping for a different response. But I was resilient, for I had no other response. My body was stone-cold. Where was I? Who was she? "Do you remember what happened last night?" she asked me after moments of no spoken words. I opened my mouth. "No." I was biting my chapped lip as usual, nervously awaiting her response. "Zeppelin, you were shot in the head last night." Her awkward response astounded me. I slowly moved my hand up to my head and felt the tightness that surrounded it, beginning at my forehead. I felt gauze-like cloth, and a soggy, circular shape indented on the left side of my temple. It hit me like a second bullet. I'd been shot in the head. And that's when the words started pouring out of my mouth like hot syrup; warm, sticky, and bittersweet. "By whom?" I said sharply, a single tear dripping down my cheek. She studied me with clear compassion, and after another moment of quiet, "It was Tyler," Tyler? My brother? Then I realized why.


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