Resurrection- Shay

I can’t breathe, I said.

 I’ll take you to the beach, she answered

I had a secondhand red bikini and wanted to swim.

Surfers stood looking out at the breaks, wetsuits down. The last one came in, blue-lipped and goosefleshed.

I have to swim.

That’s my girl.

I kicked hard to warm up, under each crest.

I stayed in a long time, came out slow.

The surfers applauded

You’re making us look bad!

She was grinning, wiping away tears when I reached her.

This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a month.

I raised my arms, laughing.

Resurrection - Nicole

She was just hours away from the seven year mark. Nervous juts of the head and the tick behind her eye acting as stopwatch.

Internal debate over the exact starting point had consumed her- from the embryonic phase or birth - had raged for so long, before a silence said that only when she was in the world could count.

Though every cheek cell, fingernail, eyelash, bended knee, rusty elbow and palm print had its own rate of turnover, each too was building to the same moment, concentration straining to unite in a final entity. Brand new. Fresh start. Resurrection.

Resurrection - Polly

"I think you should just email him. I understand what you're saying about wanting to be chased but...unless of course you're just playing hard to get." Peter tipped his pint glass a little, a tiny gulp.

"I'm not playing anything, I swear! Just, I don't want to chase. Be the chaser. You know what I mean." Ellie took a larger sip of her beer.

Peter pursed his lips and looked up. A familiar expression. One that had eluded her for a while, and here it was again. Here it was again.

"How long has it been since the last communication?"
"A week."
"Oh, so just email him. You have nothing to lose."
"It's a good point." Except you. You, you, you, she tried to say with her eyes. Her heart never spoke loudly enough.

Resurrection - Alex (Lord Lazarus)

Stillborn. Four minutes.

Twelve years, nailed to a tree. Eleven minutes.

Eighteen years, overdose on sleep meds. Seven minutes, coma for four months.

Twenty-seven years, another overdose. Dead for forty-five minutes. A syncopated syncope.  

Thirty-three years old, car accident. Seventeen pumping minutes to “Stayin’ Alive”. Only three minutes of silence.

Forty-nine years old, heart failure. Twenty-five failed minutes of defibrillation. Ten minutes before I feel my body ache and head throb.

Sixty-one years old, an abdominal aneurysm. Another fourty-five minute flatline. I awoke in a morgue drawer with a tag taunting me, dangling from my left toe.

Lord Lazarus. Again.

Resurrection - Mollie (Bad Ecstacy)

Me and Jessica, we are just standing in the loud and dark. Waiting for the hit. The air around Jessica’s face bends convex and she might have a fishbowl on her head but she curves away. Slowly my cloudy body drifts backwards, relaxing casually towards the floor. I skip stonelike on the cement, airily look up from the confusion of my body ceasing to hold me up, and she’s standing there very far away. She leans over me, a smash to my senses and she’s hit my face and I’m back in the room and I’m back on the floor.

Resurrection - Mischa

More of his blood is outside than in, but the boy is alive. Stiff, crimson bandages hide holes in his hands and feet. His skin is translucent white. He whimpers slightly as paramedics wheel his stretcher through the hospital. 

“Fucking kids,” says one to the ER doctor. “They were ‘playing’ crucifixion. Friends get three nails in before he lets himself scream. Parents rush out, find him pinned to a tree. He’s 12.”

The doctor shakes his head. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, without realising. Eight minutes later, he does. 

“This one,” he sighs over the ECG’s flatline beep, “isn't coming back.”

Prompt 2

Topic: Resurrection

Style - Drabble - Exactly 100 words. No more. No less.