Creative Writing: An Inspector Calls

Crawling, the stream of blood running into my mouth distracting me from getting to the phone. Slowly I feel my mind slipping, and the only thing I can think of is reaching the phone before I go unconscious. The pounding of my heart beat is exhausting, but I am in reach of the phone. With everything left in me, I dial the only number I can remember anymore. Each ring seems to take longer and longer, but over my heartbeat I heard a faint “Hey Nanny”. My words came out shattered, incoherent, and what I said was, “It’s dripping”. Lying on the floor, incapable of holding the phone any longer, it dropped to my side. I was able to hear the panicking on the other line. “Mom! It’s Nanny!” I said as I panicked from what I had just heard my grandma, Nanny. My mom replied with, “What, what does she need?”. “All she said was that ‘It’s dripping,’” I said. Yelling to my dad, my mom said, “Tom! Get in the car we’re heading over to Mom’s house. I think she’s hurt. Katie, don’t hang up the phone, keep talking to her!”. My dad, mom, brother Sam, and I all jumped in the car and rush over to Nanny’s house, which is luckily only five minutes away. With sweaty palms, I gripped the phone, and pressed it to the side of my face, listening to Nanny’s faint breathing. Before the panic later that day, I woke up, meandered down to the kitchen, and sat down in front of a warm stack of pancakes. Sitting next to me was my grandma, Nanny. It wasn’t an odd occasion for Nanny to be over on the weekends because she lives alone, with just her dog. As I tried to ignore conversations and the world until my stomach was full, and my eyes were completely open. Nanny tried striking up a conversation, “Good morning, how was your Christmas?” she asked expecting an immediate response. Mumbling, with a mouthful of pancakes, “Good”. “Getting anything good?” she asked again, not noticing my answer was telling her to leave me alone. “Clothes, hockey tickets, and a new phone,” I replied with the least amount of enthusiasm. This was where my Mom, Lauren, came to the rescue. She continued the conversation with Nanny, allowing me to continue my waking up process. I sat across the table from my older brother, Sam, who had just gone through the same conversation with Nanny before I made my way down stairs. Sam was 23 years old, and whom we rarely saw because of college. My Dad, Tom, and younger sister, Charlotte, made a ruckus in the livingroom taking down the Christmas tree and any other festive decor. My Dad shouted to Nanny from the living room, “Hey Nan, do you need help putting your tree away?” “No, I think I should be fine,” she replied, “I took the tree down and put it in the box. Just need to put it back on the shelf.” A typical response from Nanny. She enjoys being able to live independently at the age of 80, and take care of herself. “Are you sure?” my Dad said with concern. Stubbornly she replied,“Yes! I am sure I can lift one …show more content…
When will we see her?” I asked with some urgency. My dad responded to my question, “Probably not for a day or so. The doctors are reconstructing her skull, and she has a severe concussion. Along with the concussion, the doctors predict that she will have some memory loss too.” With she answers, my heartbeat returned to its normal pace, and I sunk back into the chair next to my brother. We looked at each other, with no need to exchange words, just ready for the long road of recovery ahead. It was a few days later when I got to go back to HCMC and see my grandma. I walked back up the stairs and down the long hallways to her room. I almost gasped when I saw her for the first time after the accident. Her nose leaned to the left, her soft, pink skin was many shades of black, blue and purple. Nanny’s head was half bald from where the doctors had to shave to get to the bleeding. I giggled to myself, if she could see her hair now, she probably wouldn’t let us in her