With a growing sense of dread, the harsh whirring of the drill echoed through the sterile room, each grind sending shivers down my spine as I felt the relentless pressure on my teeth. My gaze fixated on a single point on the ceiling, desperate to escape the torment below.
As the drill bit mercilessly gnawed away at my teeth, the weight on my jaw intensified, a relentless force bearing down on me. Numbness crept through my veins, mingling with the cramps and exhaustion, suffusing me with a sickening sense of unease.
Then came the dreaded clamp, a cold metal intruder forcing its way into my mouth, slicing through tender flesh with callous precision. Though the sedation dulled the pain, the sensation of skin parting served as a haunting prelude to the agony awaiting once the numbness receded.
Each rough thrust of the clamp intensified the feeling of suffocation, the rhythmic pounding of my heart drowning out all else as fear gripped me in its icy embrace. I attempted to signal for respite, but my hand, obstructed by the looming tool tray, groped blindly in vain, trapped in a nightmarish limbo.
When at last I managed to raise my hand, a glimmer of hope flickered in my tear-stained eyes, only to be extinguished by the dentist’s unwavering focus on his torturous task. Helplessly trapped and unheard, a choked sob escaped my throat, tears tracing silent rivers down my cheeks as I prayed for the ordeal to end.
But you are a writer, you just never applied yourself to write a book or a novel or a collection of short books or poems and to sell it.
You do write and you are superbly good at it, you just never capitalized on it. Does that exclude you from being a writer? I should think not.
Never mind the fancy talk but I’m reading Lady C. at the moment (iykyk if you don’t plz don’t ask) and it’s an old book so I’m sort of copying the talk the same way I would copy somebody’s accent subconciously
A shame, I’ve read it and liked it. Maybe you can use it to torture my character? Not the dentis expreince exactly, but the experience of a service like dentistry done upon a person who is untrusting of others and fears something being done to them by strangers and then having to endure a stranger he has not yet began to trust to do upon him an act, like surgery for instance, which he cannot do himself, but being very aware of the possibility of the person having to do very little to hurt him and being afraid of his implements, not knowing if the pressure and the pain he’s feeling is as it should feel or if he’s justified in his silent paranoia.
Edit: By my character I meant Aardal
I also consider this well written becuase I can see and understand the experience, and it’s almost like I can feel it too, despite the fact I was always brave and never that frightened at the dentist’s office save for when it hurt or when I was afraid of being ashamed of not brushing often enough
if you don’t plz don’t ask) and it’s an old book so I’m sort of copying the talk the same way I would copy somebody’s accent subconciously
