Amputee Fiction Novels & Stories

“Oh, ye-e-es. Sleepy-town life, can you dig it?” Wishing for another subject, anything, Richard watched as a pretty woman in a wheelchair was brought in by her handlers—a physically disabled young blonde, both of her legs amputated. She cradled what appeared to be a plush-toy panda on her lap in twisted hands. They trundled her down the aisle, locking her wheelchair into place next to a pew, and then left her there. “Yes siree, sleepy-town life,” Tommy persisted, crouching behind them. 2

It was a sight of raw, physical trauma. Snow had spent the last hour dreaming of finally becoming Liam’s woman, but she had completely pushed the reality of his amputation to the back of her mind. When the stump suddenly lunged into her field of vision, she couldn't suppress her base human instinct. She let out a sharp, audible gasp, her pupils dilating as she recoiled in visible shock.

Yrah nodded and showed the guards to a bed who brought in the inmate with a prosthetic leg, followed by his young French friend who didn't seem eager to leave. "What happened to him?" "Uh… well, iz funny, mam'zelle, ee zaid 'is leg hurt parce-que zee leg that iz 'urt is diz leg," the young man tried to tell her, struggling with his English. Yrah smiled to assure him and checked out the other inmate who was curled up on the bed and whose eyes were shut tight from the pain he seemed to be having. Phantom pain—a condition suffered by those who've had amputations. The pain originated from the limb that had already been cut off.

My mind scrambles to catch up, to process what he’s just said. “What are you talking about?” I demand, my voice gaining strength despite the burning in my throat. The doctor hesitates, exchanging a look with the nurses before sighing. “You suffered severe injuries. We had no choice but to amputate your left arm from the elbow down. You were fitted with a biometric prosthetic to replace the lost limb.” No. No. That can’t be right. My breath hitches. My stomach churns. I lift my right hand to rub at my temples, trying to make sense of it all. Then, without thinking, I raise my left arm to touch my face—

Previous partners had left him for so much less. Perhaps it was a relief that just then his leg started to really bother him. The amputated one. He attempted to groan but it came out as a pained whimper. How do you soothe hurt in something that no longer exists? Desperate to do something, anything, he scratched and clawed at his stump, too out of it to worry about making things worse. The flame like discomfort grew and lessened in awful waves, teasing him and never going away.

He didn't offer empty platitudes or tell them to just be grateful he was alive; he needed them to confront the grim reality of the amputation themselves. Cindy and her family were completely blindsided, left with the exact same burning questions as Joseph. Two hours later, Richard came to. Finding out he had survived made the loss of his legs somewhat bearable, and he began recounting the event in ragged, agonizing pieces. He had been ambushed by a Zahn family crew on an isolated, empty stretch of road. Outnumbered and trapped, he stood absolutely no chance. Once they had him pinned, they deliberately ran over his legs with a truck.

It would probably take really long to finish, but I wanted it done sooner rather than later. April had called and told me about her doctor visit. The doctor told her she could do her physical therapy at her pack, but that he had no experience making or placing prosthetic limbs. He referred her to a hospital that was a few hours away, that had the most experience dealing with these types of injuries. She would have to lie about some things though, it was too fucking unbelievable that she had just lost the leg. Shit, her leg looked like she was born that way. The scar had almost completely disappeared by now.

The pain came later—slow, creeping, before it swallowed her whole. Knile stood outside the operating room, his palms stained with her blood, his mind racing with calculations he couldn't fix. He had made billions managing crises in print, weaving narratives to his liking. But now, the only story he wanted to rewrite was one reality refused to yield. The doctors told him the truth like they were delivering the morning paper—cold, clinical, irreversible. “She survived. But both legs were crushed beyond repair. Amputation was the only option.” Knile didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Not for minutes. Maybe hours.

Chloe explains softly as her eyes begin to mist over. Without a thought, I reach across the desk and take her hand. She gives me a small watery smile before continuing. "The doctors had to amputate the majority of my right leg, and I was unable to attend either of their funerals. Healing hurt....my body and my mind. Guilt and regret suffocated me daily. Shame and the feeling of not being pretty anymore were devastating. Learning to walk with a prosthetic was a hard and long process. Being able to be around my father is still hard. He misses Gavin and behaves as if I am to blame. But I pushed through it all. I did rehabilitation and discovered my passion for it. I did a bunch of classes onlin

He smiled at me. I looked away and started swinging up high. "It's because..." He just watched me. "I'm not normal." I don't know if he heard that, but I hope he didn't. The swing moved slowly, and he was just looking at me. "I'm not normal either." He said and looked at his leg. I mean his amputated leg. "That's completely fine," I told him. "I can't play soccer anymore." He held tightly on his cargo shorts, and I heard him sniff. Is he crying?