CURE CRISIS...

   Funny how inspiration can come from life experiences, and influence my writing; guess that's what they mean by We Write What We Know.  I've mused some people and situations from work into my story.

The car sat still.

   The man’s starring eyes were fixed.

   The silver car’s headlights flashed on.

   The man’s blues eyes reflected the brilliant beams.

   The race car’s engine roared to life.

   Fear welled up in the man’s face.

   The squealing tires spun out of control, burning smoke bellowed upward as the car’s rear frame danced about on the hot pavement.

   The brown haired man suddenly went pale, his outstretched arms ridged, up-turned eyes twitching uncontrollably.

   The sports car headed directly for the man at top speed without veering off.

   Everything went black.

   “LISA!” A voice yelled out.

   Nothing.

   “Lisa!” The staff hovered over the jerking man called out again.

      “What?” The nurse called back from the dining room where she sat at a table updating her records on an electronic device.

   “It’s Stanley Rice,” He called from the Living room, “He just had a two minuet seizure; that dumb car commercial was on.”

   Lisa smirked as she rose to go check on the client, “Goodness, again? Ron, how many does that make it now?”

   “Eight,” Ron Sites answered back then added, “ Well, least this shift.”

   “There were three seizures this morning.”  A second staff injected.

   “You worked this morning, Stephanie?”  The nurse inquired.

   “Nah,” The African-America checked her watch, “First shift wrote it down on the Log Repot.”

   Lisa nodded as Ron asked his co-worker a side comment, “Did ya notice his eyes?”

   Stephanie’s curled lip expressed recoiled, “Yeah his baby blues are kinda creepy now, hum?”  The other two agreed with nodding arched brows of their own.

   Ron Sites, the senior staff informed them, “He came back with his parents yesterday.”

   Stephanie sighed, “My two week vacation flew by.  Man, last time I saw Stanley I was actually thrilled he went to the Clinic to have the procedure done.”

   Lisa added, “Think we all were, Stef.  I was there with him when he got it done.  The Technicians doing it still make my skin crawl.”  Answering her ringing phone the nurse spoke awhile and then hung up, “Marylyn, the Charge, just got off the phone with Doctor Prather.”

   Ron wondered, “She mention anything about his blue eyes?”

   Lisa shook her head, “No, said the doctor was just as stumped, and that he’d never seen yellow eyes go back to their natural color before.”

   Ever the conspiratorial minded one, Ron Sites offered, “We all know that’s not the case. The government and these wacked out doctors are all covering up world domination.  You know these clients are just pawns of their end game!”

   Stephanie smiled off her co-worker’s rant, “Are they going to reschedule a do over, Lisa?”

   “I asked Stanley’s dad that when they brought him back to the Home,” The other two listened intently, “He’s mom is an Emularian; said it depended on what their Bishop wanted them to do.”

   Stephanie Yatter sarcastically spat, “For real?  If the price is right for a donation you mean.” Waving her hand in the air, “These ultra-religious folks just don’t make no sense to me doing this stuff for money.  ‘Ol Stanley here deserves to be normal like the rest of us.” Then she laughed, while rubbing the smiling client on the head, “Besides, you’d look sexy with yellow eyes Mr. Rice.”