Pawl: A Fictional Narrative

Throughout the procedure, I was able to interact with the patient and communicate effectively with him, discussing his pertinent health history as well as his experience in dealing with his chronic wound. Such communication and patient interactions bring an abundance of positive feelings to any clinical situation. I also felt positively about the decision of the nurse and healthcare provider in the use of barrier cream to prevent further maceration of the peri-wound skin,

All the men got up and ran because they were afraid that he would shoot them all then and there. Ulrich calmly walked back where Georg was standing at the well. He was finally done washing up. All the blood came from a small gauge on the top of his scalp. Georg still smelt like blood, so Ulrich took him in his house to give him some new clothing and to get him bandaged up. Ulrich’s lovely wife was sound asleep when they were in the house. Georg changed and wrapped his head in cloth to close up the cut so it does not get infected.

One night, the lord and Sir Gawain make a pact to exchange gifts earned the next day. They agree that whatever the lord wins on the field will be exchanged for what Gawain wins in the castle. The next morning, the lord and his men go out to hunt for deer, while Sir Gawain is still asleep in bed.

The cold also affects Ethan’s feelings as it takes the warmth from the stove to melt “Ethan’s dark thoughts” that were induced during his time in his cold study (75).

The lady unraveled the bandage and winced as the tattered cloth scathed her injury. Her hand was swollen with splotches of red and blue.

Perhaps she had already passed out by the time he stood up, or perhaps she came in after he left, through a second doorway, from the living room. He said that he went down the corridor and tried to reach the children’s bedroom. In the hallway, he said, “you couldn’t see nothing but black.” The air smelled the way it had when their microwave had blown up, three weeks earlier—like “wire and stuff like that.” He could hear sockets and light switches popping, and he crouched down, almost crawling. When he made it to the children’s bedroom, he said, he stood and his hair caught on fire. “Oh God, I never felt anything that hot before,” he said of the heat radiating out of the room.

Jake winced at the sharp burn below his rib cage and slowed his stride. He slid his vest aside and peeled the bloodied shirt away from his wound, revealing a toothed patch across his skin. The bullet had missed his gut, and the bleeding had eased. He wouldn’t need a doctor.

Once Perceval hurried the small crowd from the room, he asked Ulrich to step into the hallway with him, and Carina, fussing with the bedclothes, overheard the whispered conversation.

“We will do more than make it work. The three of us will be happy together for all our days. Hopefully more than three of us in the future.”

Perceval completed his morning patrol and changed from his knight’s garb. He knew he should wait until that evening to see Joan, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to kiss her cheek and tell her he loved her. It would only take a moment, and then Joan could return to her tavern work.

“Can you hold him up? I’ve gotta wrap the gauze around him.” He got a simply nod from the boy before he gently lifted Leo up, Donnie quickly wrapped the gauze and allowed Raph to set him down again. He repeated the actions on Leo’s legs, wrapping the broken one before cleaning the claw marks and wrapping those too. He leaned against the wall a few hours later, every one of the small cuts and scrapes on all his brothers and April were covered. Raph pulled Leo into his arms, allowing Mikey to curl up with his head resting on Raph's plastron. He rested his head on his brothers. Raph looked up and smiled lightly at Donnie, reaching his arm out. Donnie sighed before curling up on the other side of the largest turtle, his arms resting protectively

I thought the rule of “once bitten, twice shy,” applied to everyone. Well, right now it seems like it’s ALMOST everyone. All thanks to Sagar Poudel who turned the tables on my long-term imagination. His introverted nature, bookworm spirit, and outstanding affection for others, made me feel like I was in a deep and intimate conversation with myself. But the only thing that prevented me from freaking out, apart from his constant love for family, is the fact that he “never holds a grudge against anyone”. At least, that was what I was being told whilst I stared into his eyes in search of clues of fear or emotional imbalance. Surprisingly, I found none.

It is a cool night in early 16th-century Italy. Nicolo, a man in his early 20s, walks hastily along a cobblestone street as he clutches a folded piece of paper in his hand. His clothes are rugged, and his forehead is creased; he has an exasperated look on his face. When he arrives at the tavern, he opens up the door and walks into a room filled with the remaining drunken men stammering and women flirtatiously laughing, as it is almost closing time. Though he is no stranger to this scene, he heads right towards the bartender without cracking a smile, and props himself down in the most isolated chair at the bar. He slams the paper on the bar, and motions for the bartender to come over.

"You have some cuts, your lip is bleeding pretty bad. Just let me help, please," Her soft plea and calming demeanor caused him to ease up. No sense in rushing things, if this beautiful woman wanted to take care of him.

She looked at him with reassurance in her eyes, so Taran focused, made a short, clean swipe with the blade against her lower arm, and she bled.