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MidReal Story
The Countdown to Life
Scenario:My father died and I began to cough like him.
Create my version of this story
Thomas Carter
deceased father, husband to Mary, tall with greying hair, kindhearted and strong
Emily Carter
central character, daughter of deceased, short brown hair, green eyes, introverted but resilient
Mary Carter
grieving widow and mother, wife to Thomas, medium build with sad eyes, supportive and loving
I coughed, and my father died.
It was a simple as that.
One moment he was lying in his hospital bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, and the next moment he was gone.
My mother and I were sitting on either side of him, holding his hands, waiting for the end, when I coughed.
It wasn’t even a loud cough.
Just a small one, really.
But it was enough to make my mother turn her head and glare at me.
She’d been glaring at me a lot lately.
Ever since my father got sick.
And now she’d never stop.
I knew that without even looking at her face.
I knew it in my bones.
I knew it in my soul.
I squeezed my father's hand, feeling the warmth slip away.
"Emily," my mother whispered, her voice trembling.
I looked up at her, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were fixed on my father's lifeless face.
"Mom..." I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.
"Don't," she said. "Just don't."
The room felt colder, the silence of the machines now a cruel reminder of what we had lost. I felt a tickle in my throat again and tried to swallow it down.
"I need some air," I muttered, standing up.
Mary didn't respond. She just sat there, staring at Dad as if willing him to come back. I backed out of the room, the door clicking softly behind me. The hallway was empty and eerily quiet. I leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths.
"Hey, you okay?" a nurse asked, walking by with a clipboard.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She gave me a sympathetic smile and continued on her way. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm inside me.
"Emily!" My mother's voice was sharp and close. I opened my eyes to see her standing in the doorway, her face twisted with grief and anger.
"What?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"How could you just leave like that?" she demanded. "Your father just died!"
"I needed a moment," I said defensively. "I'm grieving too, you know."
She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You always need a moment. Always running away when things get tough."
"That's not fair," I protested. "I've been here every day."
"But never really here," she snapped. "Always distracted, always coughing."
I stared at her, stunned by her words. "What are you talking about?"
She took a step closer, her eyes wild. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
I felt another cough coming and turned away from her, covering my mouth with my hand. When it passed, I looked back at her.
"Mom... please," I said softly. "This isn't helping."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Helping? Nothing can help now."
I reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away as if I'd burned her.
"Don't," she said again, her voice breaking. "Just don't."
I watched helplessly as she walked back into the room and closed the door behind her. I sank to the floor, my head in my hands. The pain in my chest was getting worse, each breath feeling like fire.
"Emily?" A familiar voice called out softly.
I looked up to see Dr. Harris standing over me, his expression one of concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently.
"No," I admitted, tears spilling down my cheeks.
He knelt beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get you checked out."
I nodded numbly and let him help me to my feet. We walked down the hall to an empty examination room where he had me sit on the bed.
"Tell me what's going on," he said as he began his examination.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "It started with a cough... but now it feels like something's wrong inside."
He frowned as he listened to my chest with his stethoscope. "Your lungs sound clear... but your heart rate is elevated."
I bit my lip, trying to hold back another cough. "What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out."
As he continued his examination, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was happening inside me—something beyond medical explanation.
Suddenly, Dr. Harris stepped back with a puzzled look on his face.
"What is it?" I asked anxiously.
Before he could answer, the lights flickered and went out completely.
My vision blurred, and I struggled to breathe.
Dr. Harris's voice became distant as he called for help.
"Emily, stay with me!" he shouted, but it sounded like he was miles away.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the cold floor.
Panic surged through me as I tried to focus on his face.
The pain intensified, spreading from my chest to my limbs.
I heard footsteps and muffled voices, but everything around me faded into darkness.
"Emily! Emily!" Dr. Harris's voice was frantic now, but I could barely hear him.
The room seemed to spin, the edges of my vision darkening further.
I tried to reach out, but my arms felt like lead.
The cold floor pressed against my cheek, grounding me in the midst of chaos.
"Get a crash cart in here, now!" Dr. Harris yelled to someone unseen.
I could hear the urgency in his voice, but it felt like it was coming from underwater.
My body refused to respond; every attempt to move was met with excruciating pain.
"Stay with us, Emily," another voice said softly, but firmly.
It was a nurse, her face a blur above me as she knelt down.
The pain in my chest was unbearable now, each breath a struggle.
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
My thoughts were jumbled, slipping away faster than I could grasp them.
In the midst of the chaos, one clear image came to mind: my father's kind eyes filled with concern.
His face was serene, just as I remembered it before everything went wrong.
I focused on that image, clinging to it as everything else slipped away.
"Charge to 200," someone said urgently.
There was a loud click and a hum that vibrated through the floor.
"Clear!" Dr. Harris's voice commanded.
A jolt of electricity surged through me, momentarily lifting me off the ground before slamming me back down.
The pain spiked sharply and then dulled into nothingness.
"Again!" Dr. Harris ordered.
Another jolt hit me, but this time I felt nothing at all.
The world around me grew quieter and darker until there was only silence.
My body felt heavy, and I struggled to move.
A nurse noticed my awakening and called for Dr. Harris.
He approached with a mix of relief and concern.
"Emily, you're in the ICU," he explained.
I tried to process his words, but everything felt hazy.
The sterile smell of the room mixed with the beeping of various monitors around me.
Just then, my mother, Mary, entered the room, her eyes red from crying.
She rushed to my side, holding my hand tightly.
"You're going to be okay," she whispered, though her voice trembled.
I tried to speak but only managed a weak cough.
The sound echoed in the sterile room, reminding me of my father's final moments.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her.
"Mom..." I croaked out, my voice barely audible.
She squeezed my hand harder, her knuckles white.
"I'm here, Emily," she said softly. "I'm right here."
Dr. Harris cleared his throat gently. "Emily, you've been through a lot. We need to run some more tests to understand what's happening."
I nodded weakly, feeling utterly exhausted.
The nurse adjusted some of the machines around me while Dr. Harris took notes on his clipboard.
My mother never let go of my hand, her presence both comforting and heartbreaking.
"Do you remember what happened?" Dr. Harris asked gently.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to recall the events that led me here.
"I... I remember collapsing," I said slowly. "And pain... so much pain."
Dr. Harris nodded. "You had a severe episode. We're still trying to determine the exact cause."
I glanced at my mother, who was biting her lip to hold back more tears.
"We're going to take care of you," Dr. Harris assured me. "But you need to rest now."
The nurse injected something into my IV line, and I felt a wave of drowsiness wash over me.
"Mom..." I whispered again as sleep began to claim me.
"I'm here," she repeated softly. "I'll be right here when you wake up."
Her words were the last thing I heard before darkness enveloped me once more.
When I woke again, the room was dimmer, and only one machine beeped steadily beside me.
My mother was still there, sitting in a chair next to my bed, her head resting on the edge of the mattress as she slept.
I shifted slightly, wincing at the discomfort in my chest.
The movement woke her up instantly.
"Emily?" she asked groggily but with immediate concern.
"I'm okay," I lied, not wanting to worry her further.
She sat up straighter and brushed a strand of hair away from my face.
"You scared me," she admitted quietly.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean to."
She shook her head. "It's not your fault."
Before we could say more, Dr. Harris entered the room again with a couple of other doctors.
"Good to see you awake again, Emily," he said warmly. "We have some updates."
He went on to explain that they had found an irregularity in my heart rhythm that might have caused my collapse.
They were running more tests to confirm their findings and decide on the best course of treatment.
As he spoke, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by everything that had happened in such a short time.
My father's death, my own health crisis—it was too much to bear all at once.
Dr. Harris must have sensed my distress because he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"We're going to get through this," he said firmly. "One step at a time."
I nodded, trying to muster some semblance of hope amidst the chaos that had become my life.
For now, all I could do was take it one breath at a time and trust that things would eventually get better.
Suddenly, alarms blared from one of the machines next to me.
Dr. Harris's expression changed instantly from calm reassurance to urgent action.
"Nurse! Get the crash cart!" he shouted as he moved swiftly towards me.
"Emily, stay with us!" Dr. Harris's voice pierced through the haze.
My mother was pushed aside, her cries drowned out by the chaos of the emergency response.
"Mom!" I tried to call out, but my voice was weak and strangled.
Dr. Harris shouted orders as nurses rushed around me.
"Get the defibrillator ready! Charge to 200!"
The room spun, and I struggled to stay awake, but my body betrayed me.
Pain shot through my chest, and I gasped for air.
The beeping machines grew louder, matching the frantic pace of my heart.
"Clear!" Dr. Harris commanded.
Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.
I heard my mother's desperate voice calling my name before everything went black once more.
When I came to, the room was eerily quiet except for the steady beep of a heart monitor.
I blinked, trying to focus on the ceiling tiles above me.
"Emily?" My mother's voice was soft but filled with relief.
I turned my head slowly to see her sitting beside me, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
"Mom..." I whispered, my throat dry and scratchy.
She reached out and took my hand gently. "I'm here, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."
Dr. Harris appeared at the foot of my bed, his expression a mix of concern and determination.
"Emily, we had to restart your heart," he explained. "You went into cardiac arrest."
I nodded weakly, processing his words.
"We're going to keep you here for observation," he continued. "But you're stable now."
I glanced at my mother, who squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"Thank you," I managed to say to Dr. Harris.
He gave me a small smile. "Just rest for now. We'll take it one step at a time."
As he left the room, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me.
My mother leaned in closer, her face inches from mine.
"I thought I lost you," she said softly, tears welling up in her eyes again.
"I'm still here," I replied, trying to offer some comfort despite my own fear and confusion.
The door opened again, and a nurse walked in with a clipboard.
"How are you feeling, Emily?" she asked kindly.
"Tired," I admitted. "And sore."
She nodded sympathetically. "That's to be expected. You've been through a lot."
She checked the monitors and made some notes before turning back to me. "If you need anything, just press the call button."
After she left, my mother settled back into her chair, still holding my hand tightly.
We sat in silence for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the room—a loud crash followed by hurried footsteps.
The door burst open, and another nurse rushed in with wide eyes.
"Dr. Harris! We need you in Room 12 stat!" she shouted before disappearing down the hall.
Dr. Harris reappeared briefly at my door, his face tense with urgency.
"I'll be back soon," he promised before hurrying after the nurse.
I looked at my mother, who seemed just as startled as I was by the sudden chaos outside our room.
"What do you think happened?" I asked quietly.
She shook her head slowly. "I don't know... but let's just focus on you right now."
I nodded in agreement, though curiosity gnawed at me.
I could hear my mother gasp beside me.
"What's happening?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
Before she could respond, the door burst open.
A strange figure entered, cloaked in mage-like clothing, his face partially hidden by a hood.
"Who are you?" Mary demanded, her voice a mix of fear and anger.
The man ignored her, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
"We don't have time for this," he said urgently. "I need to take her."
Mary stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "You can't just come in here and—"
"Listen to me!" he interrupted, his voice rising. "Emily's life is in danger. We need to move now."
Mary hesitated, glancing back at me with uncertainty.
"Please," the man pleaded. "Trust me."
After a tense moment, Mary reluctantly stepped aside.
He approached my bed and gently lifted me into his arms.
Every breath was a struggle as he carried me out of the room.
Mary followed closely behind, her footsteps echoing in the darkened hallway.
The corridor was chaotic, filled with shadows and distant shouts.
My vision blurred again, making it hard to focus on anything around me.
"Where are you taking her?" Mary asked, her voice strained with anxiety.
"Somewhere safe," the man replied curtly. "We need to hurry."
As we moved through the hospital, I could hear my mother’s anxious voice urging us to go faster.
"Please," she begged. "Don't let anything happen to her."
The man quickened his pace, navigating through the maze of hallways with practiced ease.
My body felt heavy and unresponsive in his arms.
I tried to speak but only managed a weak groan.
"Hang in there, Emily," he said softly. "We're almost there."
We turned a corner and entered a stairwell lit by emergency lights.
The dim glow cast eerie shadows on the walls as we descended rapidly.
Each step jostled me slightly, sending waves of pain through my chest.
"Is she going to be okay?" Mary asked desperately from behind us.
"I'll do everything I can," the man replied without looking back.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and exited into another hallway.
This one was even darker than before, with only occasional flashes of light from malfunctioning fixtures.
The air was thick with tension and the distant sounds of chaos.
"Keep moving," he urged as we navigated through the darkness.
Finally, we reached a set of double doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only."
The man pushed them open with his shoulder and carried me inside.
The room beyond was dimly lit but seemed more secure than the rest of the hospital.
He laid me down on a cot and quickly began examining me.
Mary hovered nearby, her face pale with worry.
"What now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"We stabilize her here," he said firmly. "Then we figure out our next move."
As he worked, I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness.
I winced as the needle pierced my skin, but the sensation was quickly replaced by a strange warmth spreading through my veins.
The room began to spin, and I clutched the edges of the cot to steady myself.
Despite the dizziness, a peculiar sense of hope washed over me.
"What's happening to her?" Mary asked, her voice tinged with panic.
"Just give it a moment," the man replied, his tone calm but urgent.
Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the building, sending debris and dust cascading around us.
The walls shook violently, and the lights flickered before plunging us into near darkness.
Mary screamed as a stone the size of a small dog hit her leg, causing her to collapse in pain.
"Mom!" I cried out, trying to reach for her, but my body felt too heavy to move.
The man rushed to Mary's side, helping her up. "We need to get out of here now!"
Before I could process his words, something heavy struck my leg.
He raised his hand, and a staff materialized out of thin air, topped with a glowing blue orb.
"Stay still," he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos around us.
He began chanting in a strange language, the words flowing like a river from his lips.
With precise movements, he traced a symbol in the air with the staff.
The blue orb glowed brighter, casting an eerie light across the room.
Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind whipped through the space, swirling debris and dust into a chaotic dance.
Mary screamed as the wind lifted her off her feet.
"No!" she cried out, reaching for me.
But it was too late.
The wind carried her through a portal that had appeared in the stone wall, her terrified face disappearing into the swirling vortex.
The man grunted, his face strained with concentration.
He turned to me and scooped me up effortlessly.
"We have to go," he said urgently, his eyes locking onto mine.
I could barely nod, dazed and in pain as he carried me out of the room.
We navigated through crumbling hallways, each step sending jolts of agony through my injured leg.
The building shook violently, pieces of ceiling and walls crashing down around us.
"Hold on tight," he instructed, his grip on me tightening as he dodged falling debris.
My vision blurred again, but I could make out the determined set of his jaw as he moved swiftly through the chaos.
Every corner we turned seemed more unstable than the last, the structure groaning under the strain of whatever force was tearing it apart.
"Almost there," he muttered more to himself than to me.
I clung to him, my fingers digging into his cloak as we pressed forward.
The air was thick with dust and smoke, making it hard to breathe.
We reached another set of double doors at the end of a particularly treacherous hallway.
He kicked them open with a force that sent them crashing against the walls.
Beyond was an open courtyard, bathed in moonlight and eerily quiet compared to the chaos inside.
He sprinted across the courtyard, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
I could hear my own ragged breathing mingling with his steady breaths.
"Just a little further," he promised, though I wasn't sure if it was meant for me or himself.
We reached an old stone archway at the edge of the courtyard.
The man paused briefly to catch his breath before stepping through it.
On the other side was a dense forest, its shadows deep and foreboding under the moonlight.
He didn't stop moving until we were well within the cover of the trees.
Finally, he set me down gently against a large oak tree and knelt beside me.
"You're safe now," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
I wanted to respond but found myself too exhausted to speak.
Instead, I nodded weakly, grateful for even this brief respite from danger.
The man stood up and scanned our surroundings cautiously.
"We can't stay here long," he said. "They'll be looking for us."
He offered me his hand. "Can you walk?"
I hesitated but took his hand anyway.
I grabbed his hand, and a strange new energy filled my body. I gasped and let go, instantly drained of this new energy, and some of my own left with it.
He cursed under his breath, then grabbed my hand again, the energy returning.
Together we started walking through the forest.
My leg hurt where the stone had hit it, but I tried not to limp, hiding that pain from him.
The forest was dense and dark, every step echoing in the silence.
The moonlight barely penetrated the thick canopy above us, casting eerie shadows on the ground.
He kept a firm grip on my hand, his eyes scanning for threats.
My heart raced with fear and uncertainty.
"What's your name?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the pain and the overwhelming darkness around us.
"Call me Callum," he replied without looking at me.
"Why are they after me?" I pressed on, needing answers.
Callum sighed. "It's complicated. You're special, Emily. More than you know."
I wanted to ask more, but a sudden rustling in the bushes made us both freeze.
He pulled me closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area.
A deer emerged from the underbrush, its eyes wide with fear before it darted away into the night.
We both exhaled in relief.
"Stay close," Callum whispered. "We can't afford any surprises."
We continued our trek through the forest, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The air was thick with humidity, making it hard to breathe.
My leg throbbed with every movement, but I bit my lip and pushed through the pain.
"How much further?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Not far," Callum replied. "There's a safe house nearby."
We walked in silence for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes.
The forest seemed endless, each tree blending into the next in an unending sea of darkness.
Finally, we reached a small clearing with a rundown cabin at its center.
Callum led me to the door and pushed it open cautiously.
The inside was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.
Dust covered every surface, and cobwebs hung in the corners like forgotten memories.
"It's not much," Callum said, leading me to a worn-out couch. "But it'll keep us hidden for now."
I sank into the couch gratefully, my body aching from exhaustion and pain.
Callum moved to secure the door and windows before sitting down across from me.
"We'll rest here for a bit," he said. "Then we'll figure out our next move."
I nodded, too tired to argue or ask more questions.
For now, all I could do was trust him and hope that we'd find a way out of this nightmare.
Callum noticed me fading and quickly moved to help me lie down on the couch.
"Easy there," he said softly, guiding me gently onto the worn cushions.
He knelt down to take off my shoes, but as soon as his fingers brushed against my foot, I winced in pain.
His eyes narrowed with concern.
"Emily," he asked, his voice low and serious, "what are you hiding from me?"
My eyes fluttered open, filled with a mix of pain and fear.
I hesitated, unsure if I should reveal the secret I'd been keeping since my father's death.
But Callum's gaze was unwavering, demanding honesty.
"It's... it's a mark," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"A strange mark that appeared on my foot after my father died."
Callum's expression turned grave as he gently lifted my foot to examine it more closely.
His fingers traced the intricate lines of the mark, his face growing more serious with each passing second.
He muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch.
"What did you say?" I asked, anxiety creeping into my voice.
"It's a curse," Callum replied, standing up abruptly.
He began pacing the room, his movements agitated and restless.
"A curse?" I echoed, my heart pounding in my chest.
"What do you mean? What kind of curse?"
Callum stopped pacing and turned to face me, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and worry.
"It's an ancient curse," he explained. "One that's been passed down through generations in your family."
I stared at him in disbelief. "But why? Why would someone curse my family?"
Callum sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated," he said again. "But it has to do with power—power that your family possesses and others want to control."
I felt a chill run down my spine as I processed his words. "So what do we do now?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
"We need to find someone who can break the curse," Callum replied firmly. "Someone who understands this kind of dark magic."
"But where do we even start?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of our task.
Callum's eyes softened slightly as he looked at me. "We'll start by getting some rest," he said gently. "You're exhausted, and we both need our strength for what's ahead."
I nodded reluctantly, knowing he was right but still feeling a sense of urgency gnawing at me. As I lay back down on the couch, Callum moved to sit by the window, keeping watch over our temporary sanctuary.
The dim light from the lantern cast long shadows across the room, making everything seem even more surreal. My mind raced with questions and fears, but exhaustion soon took over, pulling me into a fitful sleep.
The last thing I saw before drifting off was Callum's vigilant figure silhouetted against the window, ready to protect us from whatever dangers lay ahead.
Suddenly, I felt myself falling, and with a thud, I hit the wooden floor.
Pain shot through my injured leg as it scraped against a rough edge.
I gasped, clutching at the fresh cut.
"Callum?" I called out weakly, looking around the dimly lit cabin.
He was nowhere in sight.
Panic began to rise within me, but before I could fully succumb to it, the door creaked open.
Callum stepped back inside, his eyes immediately finding mine.
"Emily!" he exclaimed, rushing over to me. "What happened?"
I tried to push myself up onto the couch but failed miserably, wincing as my leg protested with sharp pain.
"It's nothing," I lied through gritted teeth.
Callum wasn't convinced.
He bent down and effortlessly lifted me back onto the couch.
As he did, his hand brushed against my leg, and I saw his eyes widen when he felt the wetness of blood.
"You're bleeding," he said, his voice filled with concern.
He quickly set me down and knelt beside me to inspect the wound more closely.
"It's just a scratch," I insisted, though the pain told me otherwise.
"Let me see," Callum demanded gently but firmly.
He rolled up my pant leg to reveal the fresh cut mingling with the older injury.
His face grew serious as he examined it.
"We need to clean this," he said decisively. "It could get infected."
He stood up and moved swiftly to a small cabinet on the other side of the room.
I watched as he rummaged through it, pulling out a first aid kit.
The cabin was small and sparsely furnished.
Dust motes floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern hanging from the ceiling.
The walls were lined with old wooden planks that creaked with every movement.
Callum returned with a damp cloth and some antiseptic.
"This might sting," he warned before gently dabbing at the cut.
I winced but tried to stay still as he cleaned the wound with practiced care.
"How did you get this?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off his task.
"I must have scraped it when I fell out of bed," I admitted reluctantly.
He nodded but didn't say anything more until he had finished bandaging my leg.
"There," he said finally, sitting back on his heels. "That should help for now."
"Thank you," I murmured, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment for needing his help once again.
Callum stood up and offered me a reassuring smile. "It's no trouble. We need to take care of each other if we're going to get through this."
I nodded, feeling a bit more at ease despite everything that had happened. "What's our next move?" I asked, eager to shift focus away from my vulnerability.
"We need to find someone who can break this curse," Callum replied. "But first, we need to make sure you're well enough to travel."
"I'm fine," I insisted. "We can't afford to waste any time."
Callum's expression softened slightly. "I know you're strong, Emily. But pushing yourself too hard could make things worse."
I sighed, knowing he was right but hating the idea of being a burden. "Okay," I conceded. "Just promise me we won't stay here too long."
"I promise," Callum said firmly. "We'll leave as soon as you're ready."
With that settled, we both fell into a contemplative silence.
The weight of our situation hung heavily in the air, but for now, we had a momentary reprieve from danger.
Callum moved back to his position by the window, keeping watch over our temporary sanctuary.
I lay back down on the couch, my body aching but my mind slightly more at ease knowing that Callum was there to protect us.
