Wednesday, February 5, 2014

A Broker for Souls

Another 100 word story.

I hate to say this, but every time I'm at work I feel as though I'm working for the devil.  Simply because of the absurd prices we charge patients for medications, buying a bottle of pills at a steal and then charging patients an arm and a leg for just one pill.

It's sad when patients come in with something that could have been prevented with just a change in diet/exercise, when newborn babies from drug-addicted mothers need to be given narcotic medications to help them, when a family watches a loved one pass away and then given a bill before their even cold.

It's a sick world.

*picture is originally from

02/04/2014 (Tuesday)- A Broker for Souls

               The devil sat down beside me, as I sipped coffee alone, in a hospital cafeteria full of sick people. 

Leave any souls for me, doc? he asked in a voice full of cinder and smoke. 

               I shuffled the papers in front of me, doing my best to ignore him. 

               C’mon, buddy, we’re on the same team here.

               “You’re not real.”  I popped my pills, the ones that kept me sane and the devil away. 

               No, I’m not. 

               Checking my watch I head back to my patients, his smoky voice following, chasing me down white sterile halls.

               I just work here.