Short Story Of The Pokemon Center Waiting Room

Madeline Whittier is a sick seventeen year old girl. She has been sick since she was a baby. She is not able to be outside for she will die. Her mom is trying to protect her from the outside world. She is stuck in her house all day long in her white room, with her white bed, with her white clothing.

“Hello!” Screamed Irene, “Is anyone here! I need help! I have cuts and bruises! Is there a doctor nearby?” Sadly, it was just her wandering the streets. Soon she sees a figure that looks like it might be a person, so she runs toward it.

The low ceiling cowered above and the black plastic chairs formed a restless crowd around me. From my seat, I could smell the acute scent of cleaning fluid, whiteboard markers, and the nauseating perfume of the girl sitting next to me. Like so many other students, she exuded concentration. Her brows were drawn as her hand moved rapidly over the testing booklet, only pausing to reposition herself or cast an almost imperceptible sidelong glance. The effortlessness of her actions furthered my anxiety as I began tapping my foot uneasily against the speckled linoleum floor. Through the dusty shades that hung precariously in front the only window in the room, I could see the outline of a solitary building shadowed by the dense gray fog that clung to the courtyard outside. At that moment, I would have given anything to be able to run and scream at the top of my lungs. I had an inexplicable urge to break free from the confinement of that room and what it

She walked up the stair unhurried, her steps confident, and her hair still perfect without fault. As she reached the top of the stair there was slight hill that rose up before her, stood heavily on top was a creature that made her top lip rise in an act of disgust. It was easily 7ft tall, built similarly to a man, but its legs were thick and tough, no feet at the bottom like any person, they resembled an elephants, hard and wide, made to balance the large creature it was carrying. Its arms were disproportioned; the top of the arm was thinner than the bottom, getting wider and more engorged as it got closer to its hand. The hand looked like a swollen mess, heavy and fat with its tiny fingers poking out, similar to a plastic glove that had been blown up like a balloon. But it was its face that was the most disgusting thing to the girl. It was small and lumpy, its mouth taking up a large part of it, almost splitting the face. The mouth was long and thin, the sharp spikes of teeth had shot through its lips on multiply occasions, leaving the tough skin around its mouth shredded and scarred. And at the top of its head was its eyes, they were fish like, unblinking and dull. The creature in front of her was disgustingly

The brown brick building in the back of the school, next to the Orbach Science library, is at first shockingly small in size, the UCR School of Medicine. The golden lettering is easily read from a far distance. The surrounding area is very peaceful and calming where I am able to hear the birds chirp as I walk along the shady pathway. There was not a student in sight. As I entered the brown brick building, it smelled delightfully clean and sanitized. All I could hear was beeping from a machine that I could not identify. As I continued walking, a cool breeze was felt as I passed a classroom that was in session. The interior of the classroom seemed very spacious. The more I continued to explore the building, I discovered the dean’s office, and

The bell signalling the end of second period hadn’t sounded, yet. Or maybe it had.maybe she missed it amidst the screams. She wondered if it was all over, perhaps somewhere in a distant corner of the school, students and teachers rejoiced and hugged each other knowing there was nothing left to fear. No matter how quite it was outside fear still rushed through her body, mentally and physically. She knew she couldn’t get up. Fear had paralysed her. She had fled the library and fled her way through the southern hallway when it began. The hall was infused with kinetic horror. An aimless frenzy of kids and adults bound in a reckless pack of mass confusion, like and ant hill being washed away with a hose. No new knew what to do. They just ran. Lisa couldn’t run. The fear had taken ahold of her and would allow her to move any faster than a sloth in a waking

There was a strong pungent of disinfectants and rubbing alcohol as she was rushed into the lobby. Crying out her last breath to express her agonizing pain as she lied down on the cold gurney. The nurses in a light blue uniform quickly arrived as several doctors in long white gowns rushed to the scene. Her mother was by her side, holding her hands as tight as she could, as the nurses pushed the agitating gurney towards the automatic doors. Soon her visions blurred and as the world turned into a tint of pink and red. As her vision slowly darkened, she solely relied on the touch of her mother’s warm hand and her soothing voice. Notwithstanding the tight grip of her mother’s hands, they was soon torn apart. Fear took over her body as she cried even louder. The sudden yet rhythmic beep was the last memory she could recall. It was March 5th.

Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, 7-year-old me swung my feet back and forth under the generic, time-worn furniture and anxiously wrung my sweaty palms. I’d been to the doctor’s before, but with each returning yearly visit the dread that sunk to the bottom of my gut never shrunk. “Jillianne Carrasco?” The nurse called. My stomach turned. I began to shoot my mother a pleading look, but she wasted no time in grabbing my hand and leading me to the smiling nurse waiting at the door, and we both followed her through the pasty white halls to a customary exam room. The nurse closed the door behind us and asked me to take a seat on the crinkly tissue paper cot. She smiled warmly, likely taking note of my nervous breathing and shaky hands.

Finally spotting the room, she swiped the card and entered, wondering if she was there first, or if he had left already. She was really nervous, a feeling she wasn't that used to experiencing, and that she absolutely hated. She was taking the pitifully low class interior decoration when she felt something cold against her head - it had to be a gun - and someone pushing her in.

The girl fidgeted in the metal chair, waiting for her mother to be escorted out. It had been the first time since last year she had decided to visit, on her own. The only reason she was doing this was because it was her mother’s birthday today. She tried to divert her attention elsewhere, but she could only focus on how dirty the glass that acted as a barricade, was.

As the door swung open, a musty odor greeted her. She fumbled to find the light switch. Standing in the doorway, she waited a few moments while her eyes adjusted to the darkness before moving into the center of the room.

“She’s in pain!” Lizabeth shouted, when her mother winced after trying to sit up. “Can’t you see that? Do something! Get the doctor!” she snapped at the attending nurse in Room #152 at Outer Drive Hospital.

Jaylee sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom. She closed the door and stood there, waiting. The door slowly creaked open, and her heart was hammering against her chest like a zoo animal trapped in a cage.

“Douglas I chose you!” throwing out oshawott phoebe battled Isabella with vigor she had the urge to join the battle herself her blood was rushing she could almost feel her teeth sharpen but pushed the urges down the call to fight to rip that little shit to peaces a sense of euphoria washed over her as she watched the snivy fall Isabella looked on in dismay calling her Pokemon back seeing her friend saddened made her joy dim but not by much she turned her happiness onto Douglas

One looks outside and sees a myriad of strange creatures with fantastic elemental powers. Some shoot jets of water strong enough to punch through steel, others can fly faster than any aircraft, and a select few can even warp the fabric of time and space. OK, stop playing Pokemon Go and actually pay attention to the essay.