Writing Wednesday

Okay, so here it goes. This is a off-the-cuff, totally unplanned, mini-write-a-thon. I'm going to write for 15 minutes non-stop, using a few writing prompts and post it up here to see what we get. Here's the prompt:

Redefine the cliche phrase "ice water in her veins."

Ready, set, go!

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It kinda burns, really. It's so cold it hurts. I clench my teeth and dig my nails into my palms, take quick, short breaths.

"Don't worry," the bespectacled doctor says. "We only need you to do this for five minutes while we get the sample."

"Okay," I say, through clenched teeth. You see, I'm sick. Terribly sick. I've been in the hospital for almost a year now, wasting away to skin and bones. There's something inside me that's eating me up. It makes me want to eat too, all the time. I eat and eat and stuff food in my face for like, 20 hours a day, and I'm still hungry and getting skinnier and skinnier. Right now I weigh 101 pounds. The doctors keep me constantly connected to a drip, trying to get nutrients inside me. That helps, but not much.

No one knows what's going on. They don't know what's wrong with me. And they're getting desperate. Which is why they are pumping ice water into me right now. Whatever it is that's inside of me is in my bloodstream, and for some reason, they could never find it. Whenever they tried, my body would heat up like crazy and the thing would move so fast, they wouldn't be able to catch it. It was actually me that suggested we cool me down. I figured, if this thing is making me hot so it can move, why don't we fight back? So here we are.

I feel like there are ice crystals forming in my veins. Like I have millions and millions of tiny slivers slicing through my flesh right now. It's so cold I can't even shiver.

"How much longer?" I ask.

"We're almost there," says the doctor with the glasses. "I can almost see it."

I glance up at the display screen. Right now it's showing the inside of one of my blood vessels. So strange. The doctors are all riveted, searching for answers.

"God damnit!" mutters one of them, the one operating the little camera tube. "It's heading for her heart!"

"Alright, that's enough, I'm pulling the plug." Nice glasses doctor reaches out towards the camera doctor, but he slaps his hand away.

"No! I've almost got it! I can get it, I swear!"

"Carson, get out of there! We don't know what that thing will do if it gets to her heart!"

The pain is getting worse. The ice is turning into coals. I feel like I'm burning again, only, I know that I'm not. I  look at my toes; they're white, almost blue.

"It hurts," I say, but both of the doctors either don't hear me, or ignore me.

"Oh my god," the bespectacled doctor whispers. He grabs the camera doctor's arm. "Get out! Get out of there!"

"What?" I say, twisting my head around to see, despite the deep, cold burning that's penetrating farther and farther into my body. "What is it?" I get a glimpse on the screen of something white, angular, and shaped like a mass of tree roots before, suddenly, there is a flash, and a stab of pain in my heart, like someone poured lava straight into the center of it, except completely opposite. There's a noise like a thousand panes of glass shattering, and then silence and whiteness.

When I next open my eyes, I have blink to make sure they're really open. The room is white. Well, not really white, but covered in ice and snow from top to bottom. I sit up and look around for the two doctors. It's quiet. Like New Years Day morning.

"Hello?" I call out, softly, my voice hoarse, like the wind. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

I see the tip of a polished black shoe poking out of a snowbank on the other side of the room. Leaping off the warm metal operating table, I tramp through the snow and grab the shoe, pushing piles and piles of it off of the man with my bare hands.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask, worried. The nice doctor's face comes into view and I gasp. His eyes are frozen, literally frozen and clouded over like an ice cube, open in an expression of horror, and his face is covered in frost. One lens of his glasses is broken. He's dead for sure.

I stumble back into the metal operating table, knocking over a tray of instruments. My legs are white, whiter than white, nearly as white as the snow surrounding me. And I realize I'm not burning anymore. Or hungry, for that matter. In fact, I feel fine, even though I'm sitting in the snow in nothing but a hospital gown. I pick up a handful of it and it doesn't melt. It actually feels like flour. I grab the tray from the floor and turn it around to look at myself. I'm pale as a ghost.

"What's going on?" I ask no one. The metal tray clouds over with ice crystals and creaks, then shatters into shards in my hands.

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And that's it. Kinda weird. I've been kind of into X-men and stuff for a while, so I can definitely see some of that in my story. I hope you guys enjoyed it!