Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Alphabet Soup - K

I know a guy named K.

He's an interesting bloke. He's Scottish, actually from Scotland. He's a big guy, 6 ft and a bit heavy, probably 225 lbs. He's got a skin condition, sort of albinism that makes his skin react badly to the sun. So, even though he lives in Florida, he's always covered up; long sleeve shirts, a cap, etc.

He's a chef and an actor and a funny guy. He's also a Goth, although I think that just happened because of the sun thing. Meaning he is more active at night and the pale skin makes him fit right in with the new Goths. He's got short, spiky bleached blonde hair and a few piercings. He's always wearing black eye shadow.

Even though he's 30 plus, he think, acts and talks much like a teen. One of the things he likes to do is skateboard.

Now, here is the story of the story. One night K is out with his girlfriend Aris and this other couple that I know. I think that the couples only know each other because I brought them together and this is the first time that they've actually hung out outside of being in my group.

They go have coffee and chat and they're going to go out and eat dinner or maybe that's the other way around, but it doesn't matter.
Anyway, between these stops, K says that he really wants to go skateboard a bit. It's been a few days and he has his board right in the car.

So, they go to the skateboard park, which is close by and he jumps out and starrts grinding around. He doesn't have his helmet and he really usually does wear it. Everyone says so. But, he's not doing anything tricky or crazy. Just zooming around, feeling the world rush by. Flying close to the ground. He skates around for 15 or so minutes. No problem.

Then it's time to go. He's coming across the park, just straight across. Nothing weird, no tricks, no grandstanding. And BAM! He hits something, maybe a rock or a crack or gum. Who knows? He falls, ass over tea kettle, and hits his head.

And just like that, he's out. His girlfriend and the others run over and he's flat unconscious. There's a little bit of blood coming out of his mouth, his ear and a lot more coming out of the crack in the back of his head.

The park people call an ambulance, who I bet are used to coming to this particular place, and they come and take him to the hospital.

When I find out, a day or two later, I arrange with my firend Larry to go visit.
And there's the goth guy, only not in black now. Not hidden behind makeup and a hat. He's pale, even for him, I think. He's got the white hospital gear on. It's such a contrast to the normal Black/White stark dichotomy. He's white on white now.

And he's got this immense scar on his head. They had to cut his head open to relieve the pressure. Blood built up and would have killed him

He's been in a coma for a couple of days, but has slightly reacted. They think he'll come out of the coma, but there is no good prognosis for what he'll be like. There is some brain damage, but to what extent nobody can say.

We have a fairly short visit and promise to come again. To keep up and to offer support.


It's hard to write this last bit, much like it's hard to say why I don't visit him, even when I said I would. Even when I had an opportunnity.

It's not like they are my good friends. I've only ever met, worked or hung out with them about 5 times. But, it seems that she could really use a connection. Could really use some support and I just haven't felt like I had it in me to do anything.

But now, I see that I don't have to do anything. I'm going to call and see if I could just visit and see how they're doing. Share some love.

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