William Shakespeare 's ' The Bed '

1151 Words Aug 1st, 2014 5 Pages
I looked at Lyon laying in the bed. I knew that this was Lyon, because everyone told me so. But the boy before me with the tubes running into his nose, and the translucent skin was not the boy I knew. My Lyon was robust, overweight vibrantly healthy and possessed of a spirit that would cause him to get up from his chair and dance across the room even if he was alone.
The boy before me could barely breathe. His body was nearly lost in the sheets of the bed and he didn 't move. He sucked in air through a tube in his throat and the machines pushed the oxygen into him in a rhythmic tempo that was almost irritating. The machines around him hummed and made faint noises that filled the room with an ambient presence. The one closest to him beeped in rhythm to his heart, causing me to want to feel his pulse and make sure it was really his.
I approached the figure in the bed and reached out to his wrinkled hands. The hands which once held me firmly as I learned how to walk again, they now barely moved as I slipped my fingers across their papery surface. His body was warm with life, but our world would not be dancing this day.
I leaned over him, forcing myself into his field of vision. His eyes fluttered open and I looked into the watery depths. I thought I saw a corner of his mouth turn up just a bit and I knew without a doubt that inside he was laughing at me being there. It was so hard to see him locked in this fragile, old body with the soul of a young man seeking adventure in…
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