i have no freaken idea of whats to write about strecther….I request a new word please! This one’s a little tough for the first try and thats is not so fair is it? thought so
I gasped as I was placed onto the stretcher by the medics who had just removed me from my burning house. Caught afire by a careless parents lit smoke, a danger to myself. On the stretcher I felt myself trying to catch my breath, gasping for the fresh air that I could rarely find inside my house. I didn’t know where my parents had ended up, and at this point I didn’t really care. I was just happy to be alive.
It was supposed to be a little bit of fun. Harmless fun. But I suppose it always is. Until it isn’t and your watching someone you care about, more than you ever knew, being carried away.
The stretcher was sitting abandoned in the warehouse, surrounded by old newspapers and crates. It had a blanket and pillow that looked used. Maybe by a homeless person.
They carried him out slowly as she ran behind, desperately gripping at his limp hand. He was unconscious, they said. We don’t know what’s wrong, they said. How could they not know? How could nobody know? And then a shot rang out, piercing her eardrums. Now, no one will ever know.
I hate strechers. What a horrible concept. I feel uninspired. I was hoping for something more like “fish” or “figgy pudding” or at the very least something about crumpets. Apparently I am hungry, and boring. The sun has gone away. This still has nothing to do with stretchers, does it. I read a piece about stretch marks today. They are not like tiger stripes, apparently.
He found the stretcher all alone in the back alley. Th sun was cascading through the branches of the half fallen down tree. It didn’t want to go back. Not now, it was far too early.
time stretches by
it feels like eternity
life after life I see pass by
it just keeps on going
no one cans stop it
just as no one really means to start it
life happens
end of story
except for the pain and sorrow people mask
a stretcher of time and endless torture for some
He and his brother carried her out on the stretcher. He looked down into her eyes and she quickly glanced away. Making eye contact was not good for her heart right now. Anything but this, she thought. Why me!
One word can make a huge difference as they say Pen is mightier than the sword. A word of kindness can help cheer an upset person and a harsh word can even break relationships.
His body lay on the stretcher, taught. His wife wept over his as he was carried away, throwing her hands up to heaven, rain falling on heryellow dress. She said, ‘Why me?’ and said it again and again until she fainted and
Smoke. Explosions. That cloying in the back of the throat that soldiers know all the time. And the shouts and the “move him over here!” and the nurses moving fast, and the cold metal against your hands slippery with blood. It was hell getting him this far and the nurses weren’t sure what they could do for him, but it was better than being out there in the mud and the smoke and the noise.
There’s a lady asleep on a stretcher, hand dangling to the floor. No blood, just bandages. It feels calm outside, but In her head there’s a tornado of grief. Where is he?
Stretcher. Stretch out. Lying down. Face to the ceiling. How did I get here? How did my life end up like this? Stretched out and stuck in an ER, waiting to be seen. Patient. Impatient. How did I get here? How did things end up like this? I didn’t want it to. I didn’t mean for it to. Now I’m just one big ache.
I walked into the ward and looked clumsily around for my brother. I peeked my head around some of the cold, clinical doors but couldn’t find him. In a state of panic, I turned on my heel and came crashing into a stretcher. “I’m so sorry” I mumbled, making way for them. Then I spotted him – the dark mop of hair, the chiselled jaw. But he wasn’t my brother. He was someone I knew, but at the same time I didn’t know him at all. Then he was wheeled out of my sight.
Transported from world to another other, feet in one, head in the next. He was taken, we saw him leave. No one saw him arrive. For a second he existed in both, he was stretched between the two.
coffee is a stretcher to somewhere near the afternoon after pulling an all-nighter, partly due to work and also because sleep doesn’t come easily when shallow-breathing…meditation is good for you, I think.
coffee is a stretcher to somewhere near the afternoon after pulling an all-nighter, partly due to work and also because sleep doesn’t come easily when shallow-breathing. meditation is good for you, I think.
They carried him out on a stretcher. This wouldn’t have been unusual in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal. I have no idea where they found a stretcher, or why they got to use it on him, but they did.
Death seems to be a pretty common word invading my thoughts lately. Stretcher is such a strange name to call a temporary excuse for a bed. It’s the transportation that is suppose to save your life after an “accident”. Is anything even an accident anymore? People die every single day and a stretcher takes them to their grave. It should have been simply named “your death bed”.
One day a kid named strecher was walking along trying to find is mom, so he reached around a corner and ate a cheese puff, which turned out to be his mom, he killed his mom…
My soul layeth on the stretcher on it’s way to limbo hospital. It’s still searching for where it belongs, lost in the world. The body is still alive but it looks very much uninterested in everything it is surrounded by. Help my soul.
A stretcher is most likely applied in hospital use. Another name for this item is a gurney. I have never been on a stretcher, but I have seen many people, mostly my relatives on stretchers. They are mostly made with fabric and cotton, but the stalks are of stainless steel.
Laid out and moaning on one of many, the blaring sounds of sirens, heat from flames and acrid smoke. Like a scene out of Gone With the Wind, she thought above the cacophony of screaming, shouting, radio bursts urgently demanding medics, police, firefighters. “Tara’s burning,” she whispered..
A man was walking in the brisk summer morning when the sirens blared his ears. He jumped and just at that moment saw the ER men hustling with a strethcer into his own home. The man’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed past all the people to get inside his house. There she was. His heart broke as she lay there and the happiness had been drained from her face. The men lifted her onto the stretcher and took her away without as much as a glance toward him. Daniel knew at that very moment by the circumstances and the yellow tape that now surrounded the room that this was no accident. He then swore that until the day he died he would find who did this, and he would avenge his only pride and joy in life-his wife.
oneday i got a phone call, my sister was in hospital and when i got there she was
layed out on a stretcher all messed up from her car accident. I felt sick to the stomach
I had never seen anyone disfigured in the way that she was.
Someone is bleeding profusely on top a stretcher, they’ve been in a car accident. there are paramedics all around rushing him to tyne ER. There is a women crying running beside them.
To stretch one’s self, to search for secret selves hidden on shelves. Dusty layered layers against a backdrop myriad of cereal bars and robotic cashiers. You need to creep close to the edge, to jump of the shelf, to stretch yourself, or you’ll remain as shrivelled and shrunk as you were on your day of birth.
The man lay by the roadside, blood seeping from his head. Noone knew whether he was alive or dead. A crowd had formed as the emt’s moved him gingerly upon the stretcher. It wasn’t until the sheet was pulled over his body that the terrible silence that had fallen over the crowd gave way to screams.
I worked out a lot today I heard something in my hip pop. My trainer laughed and said, “good, you’re making progress.” Was she kidding? They always say listen to your body. My body was not having a pleasant day. I could be wheeled out on a stretcher for all she knows and even then she’ll probably think I made progress.
We sometimes talk about grace-growers – people who require you to have more grace, because not everyone is easy to love. Sometimes people have hurt that they carry around with them and they are sometimes difficult to get along with because they take things the wrong way. Think one can go ahead and call the grace-grower a stretcher too; same principle. Stretching is painful, but it’s how we grow.
The blood was everywhere, the body limp. Death smiled cruelly as he swallowed the soul of the once alive person, but now in fact, quite dead. If only the peremedics had guessed the real problem, maybe he could have been saved. Not anymore. His sould now beloned to Death.
“Tell me the truth.” The raspy voice seethed with anger, the source of the sound a masked man.
He, the victim, lay quite uniconsciously on the stretcher, his body in the form of an X. His wrists and ankles were ruthlessly shackled with rust-stained and skin-percing materials.
He spat, and said, “Never.”
At his repsonse, the masked man screamed a terrible scream that seemed to make the shack more eerie. A moment later, a high-pitched wail pierced the night. It was from the man lying on the stretcher.
“I will never stop this until you tell me.”
Those were the last words that the man would ever hear from the mysterious masked man. The door shut loudly, and the gears working in order to pull harder at the shackles echoed in the victim’s ears.
I was lowered onto the crisp, soft hospital bed, still lying painfully crippled in the stretcher i was in. The fall was damaging. Too damaging.
i have no freaken idea of whats to write about strecther….I request a new word please! This one’s a little tough for the first try and thats is not so fair is it? thought so
I gasped as I was placed onto the stretcher by the medics who had just removed me from my burning house. Caught afire by a careless parents lit smoke, a danger to myself. On the stretcher I felt myself trying to catch my breath, gasping for the fresh air that I could rarely find inside my house. I didn’t know where my parents had ended up, and at this point I didn’t really care. I was just happy to be alive.
It was supposed to be a little bit of fun. Harmless fun. But I suppose it always is. Until it isn’t and your watching someone you care about, more than you ever knew, being carried away.
The stretcher was sitting abandoned in the warehouse, surrounded by old newspapers and crates. It had a blanket and pillow that looked used. Maybe by a homeless person.
They carried him out slowly as she ran behind, desperately gripping at his limp hand. He was unconscious, they said. We don’t know what’s wrong, they said. How could they not know? How could nobody know? And then a shot rang out, piercing her eardrums. Now, no one will ever know.
I hate strechers. What a horrible concept. I feel uninspired. I was hoping for something more like “fish” or “figgy pudding” or at the very least something about crumpets. Apparently I am hungry, and boring. The sun has gone away. This still has nothing to do with stretchers, does it. I read a piece about stretch marks today. They are not like tiger stripes, apparently.
He found the stretcher all alone in the back alley. Th sun was cascading through the branches of the half fallen down tree. It didn’t want to go back. Not now, it was far too early.
time stretches by
it feels like eternity
life after life I see pass by
it just keeps on going
no one cans stop it
just as no one really means to start it
life happens
end of story
except for the pain and sorrow people mask
a stretcher of time and endless torture for some
He and his brother carried her out on the stretcher. He looked down into her eyes and she quickly glanced away. Making eye contact was not good for her heart right now. Anything but this, she thought. Why me!
One word can make a huge difference as they say Pen is mightier than the sword. A word of kindness can help cheer an upset person and a harsh word can even break relationships.
His body lay on the stretcher, taught. His wife wept over his as he was carried away, throwing her hands up to heaven, rain falling on heryellow dress. She said, ‘Why me?’ and said it again and again until she fainted and
Smoke. Explosions. That cloying in the back of the throat that soldiers know all the time. And the shouts and the “move him over here!” and the nurses moving fast, and the cold metal against your hands slippery with blood. It was hell getting him this far and the nurses weren’t sure what they could do for him, but it was better than being out there in the mud and the smoke and the noise.
There’s a lady asleep on a stretcher, hand dangling to the floor. No blood, just bandages. It feels calm outside, but In her head there’s a tornado of grief. Where is he?
Stretcher. Stretch out. Lying down. Face to the ceiling. How did I get here? How did my life end up like this? Stretched out and stuck in an ER, waiting to be seen. Patient. Impatient. How did I get here? How did things end up like this? I didn’t want it to. I didn’t mean for it to. Now I’m just one big ache.
I walked into the ward and looked clumsily around for my brother. I peeked my head around some of the cold, clinical doors but couldn’t find him. In a state of panic, I turned on my heel and came crashing into a stretcher. “I’m so sorry” I mumbled, making way for them. Then I spotted him – the dark mop of hair, the chiselled jaw. But he wasn’t my brother. He was someone I knew, but at the same time I didn’t know him at all. Then he was wheeled out of my sight.
A stretcher by a roadside
some place hot
as long as the person on it
isn’t completely covered
there is hope
Transported from world to another other, feet in one, head in the next. He was taken, we saw him leave. No one saw him arrive. For a second he existed in both, he was stretched between the two.
coffee is a stretcher to somewhere near the afternoon after pulling an all-nighter, partly due to work and also because sleep doesn’t come easily when shallow-breathing…meditation is good for you, I think.
coffee is a stretcher to somewhere near the afternoon after pulling an all-nighter, partly due to work and also because sleep doesn’t come easily when shallow-breathing. meditation is good for you, I think.
They carried him out on a stretcher. This wouldn’t have been unusual in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal. I have no idea where they found a stretcher, or why they got to use it on him, but they did.
Death seems to be a pretty common word invading my thoughts lately. Stretcher is such a strange name to call a temporary excuse for a bed. It’s the transportation that is suppose to save your life after an “accident”. Is anything even an accident anymore? People die every single day and a stretcher takes them to their grave. It should have been simply named “your death bed”.
injury ,hurting, something i dont like, pain ,hope, change and living life ,having fun
Pain is a time stretcher
And time is a pain shrinker
What happens then?
Answer me
A stretcher is what the hospital personel use to haul injured or sick people around. It is also used by other specealized personel.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT A STRETCHER.
stretcher.. stretcher..
What do you really even say about a stretcher? I mean.. its a stretcher.
Alright this sucks. I’m still half asleep.
Stretcher…
Stretcher…
Stretcher…
My time just glitched and started over. Maybe this time I’ll tell a story.
Things you can carry on a stretcher:
dead people
fat people
short people
dogs
guns
cheesecake
apples
monkey bread
turtles
poop
monkeyssss
One day a kid named strecher was walking along trying to find is mom, so he reached around a corner and ate a cheese puff, which turned out to be his mom, he killed his mom…
My soul layeth on the stretcher on it’s way to limbo hospital. It’s still searching for where it belongs, lost in the world. The body is still alive but it looks very much uninterested in everything it is surrounded by. Help my soul.
A stretcher is most likely applied in hospital use. Another name for this item is a gurney. I have never been on a stretcher, but I have seen many people, mostly my relatives on stretchers. They are mostly made with fabric and cotton, but the stalks are of stainless steel.
Laid out and moaning on one of many, the blaring sounds of sirens, heat from flames and acrid smoke. Like a scene out of Gone With the Wind, she thought above the cacophony of screaming, shouting, radio bursts urgently demanding medics, police, firefighters. “Tara’s burning,” she whispered..
A man was walking in the brisk summer morning when the sirens blared his ears. He jumped and just at that moment saw the ER men hustling with a strethcer into his own home. The man’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed past all the people to get inside his house. There she was. His heart broke as she lay there and the happiness had been drained from her face. The men lifted her onto the stretcher and took her away without as much as a glance toward him. Daniel knew at that very moment by the circumstances and the yellow tape that now surrounded the room that this was no accident. He then swore that until the day he died he would find who did this, and he would avenge his only pride and joy in life-his wife.
oneday i got a phone call, my sister was in hospital and when i got there she was
layed out on a stretcher all messed up from her car accident. I felt sick to the stomach
I had never seen anyone disfigured in the way that she was.
Someone is bleeding profusely on top a stretcher, they’ve been in a car accident. there are paramedics all around rushing him to tyne ER. There is a women crying running beside them.
the ambulance came
the car crashed
the victim died
the baby cried
the mother ran
it happened too soon
i woke up on a strtcher
in the sick room
To stretch one’s self, to search for secret selves hidden on shelves. Dusty layered layers against a backdrop myriad of cereal bars and robotic cashiers. You need to creep close to the edge, to jump of the shelf, to stretch yourself, or you’ll remain as shrivelled and shrunk as you were on your day of birth.
The man lay by the roadside, blood seeping from his head. Noone knew whether he was alive or dead. A crowd had formed as the emt’s moved him gingerly upon the stretcher. It wasn’t until the sheet was pulled over his body that the terrible silence that had fallen over the crowd gave way to screams.
I worked out a lot today I heard something in my hip pop. My trainer laughed and said, “good, you’re making progress.” Was she kidding? They always say listen to your body. My body was not having a pleasant day. I could be wheeled out on a stretcher for all she knows and even then she’ll probably think I made progress.
We sometimes talk about grace-growers – people who require you to have more grace, because not everyone is easy to love. Sometimes people have hurt that they carry around with them and they are sometimes difficult to get along with because they take things the wrong way. Think one can go ahead and call the grace-grower a stretcher too; same principle. Stretching is painful, but it’s how we grow.
The blood was everywhere, the body limp. Death smiled cruelly as he swallowed the soul of the once alive person, but now in fact, quite dead. If only the peremedics had guessed the real problem, maybe he could have been saved. Not anymore. His sould now beloned to Death.
“Tell me the truth.” The raspy voice seethed with anger, the source of the sound a masked man.
He, the victim, lay quite uniconsciously on the stretcher, his body in the form of an X. His wrists and ankles were ruthlessly shackled with rust-stained and skin-percing materials.
He spat, and said, “Never.”
At his repsonse, the masked man screamed a terrible scream that seemed to make the shack more eerie. A moment later, a high-pitched wail pierced the night. It was from the man lying on the stretcher.
“I will never stop this until you tell me.”
Those were the last words that the man would ever hear from the mysterious masked man. The door shut loudly, and the gears working in order to pull harder at the shackles echoed in the victim’s ears.