Burnt (it) to Drill (away)
Grrrr swisshshssh grrrrrrrr shhhhh
The shrill swishy sound sent shivers down my spine as I lay stiff on the stretched chair, my eyes squinting from the glary light peeping inside the dark glasses that the doc made me wear.
It was sheer relief every time the jarring drill stopped and I got a chance to sit upright to spit out a mouthful in a little basin.
Each time I did that, my eyes opened wide and my mouth left agog at the sight of an overpowering painting on the facing wall – a flaming red guitar that seemed enigmatic in the focused light of the surgery.
This happened a million times before the doctor finally showed me all that he took out from my mouth.
I looked at the guitar one last time and came out towards the reception.
“Can I ask you something, doc? Why that picture in your surgery?” I asked hesitatingly
“Oh! That? That was my dream thrill, this is my daily drill”, his voice sounded excited while the laughter was shallow.
“Aww! May be you can still pursue it in your free time” I suggested, while hoping I understood his poetic statement.
“Hah! A doc with a free time? Maybe one day”
I came out thinking. Next week I’ve my entrance exam for medical college. I’m sure I too do not love medicine.
My last minute story for the weekly challenge Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. The picture prompt from pixabay.