Member-only story
Her Gospel, Part 1
A Short Story
Originally written for Philosophy 200
Judeo-Christian Studies with Prof. Susan Priest.
No one’s laughing at God in a hospital. — Regina Spektor
It was 4:30 in the afternoon, two weeks to the day after being admitted to the University Medical Center, that she opened her eyes.
She was Jane Doe 136. Somewhere in her late teens, the girl was pale and deathly slim, except for a slight bump that once indicated a child within. Her hair had only been the truly beautiful thing about her, a long, honey-colored mane that was brushed and obviously well cared for.
Now she was just deathly. The girl in the hospital bed was bruised, battered, and broken. She was covered in bandages, plaster, and tubes; and framed with machines that breathed and lived for her. Her hair was gone. As was her child.
She had no identification, had no way to contact her kin. Even the modern advances in fingerprinting and genetics had done nothing to shed light on who she was. Nobody had come looking for her, and nobody had been able to put a name to her. She was simply 136 to most of the nurses in the ICU ward, and that poor, beautiful girl to a couple.
