Novelas y relatos de Amputee Fiction

Damien tutted, looking down at the bandaged stump where her left hand had been. The stump was painful and itchy, despite the painkillers, and she imagined she could feel her fingers twitching. Phantom limb syndrome the doctor had said. "My right hand," Belle muttered. 'Holy freaking shit.' "I cut off my fucking hand, Damien!" she cried. "I cut off my hand, isn't that enough?" Damien circled her bed and sat beside her. "It would have been enough." He picked up the white book, opened the pages and tore it in half. The pages flew out, covering her bed and the floor.

He stops after a while. "Rem," I put my hand on the side of his face. "Do you think Bob will like it?" I sent the newest manuscript about Juliet Mathias. Writing about one's life story is harder than writing about someone else's. I got really emotional when I was writing about my parents and my little brother. C.S. Lewis once said that the death of a beloved is an amputation. I truly believe that but I also know that I can learn to live with it. I keep the memories of them close to my heart.

I turned around, pulled out a thick stack of medical documents from my bag and slammed them on the table. "This is the amputation surgery record and disability assessment report issued by the capital's Jeshui Hospital." "My husband had a bilateral shoulder disarticulation! Do you understand? His arms were completely removed at his shoulders. Even the stumps were not retained!" I walked over and, in front of everyone, gently rolled up Chris' empty sleeves. There, there were only terrifying, deep scars. There were no stumps that could be used as support. "Without stumps, how could he move a robotic arm? How could he clench the fingers?”

When Charlie saw Hamed limping as he walked up the stairs, Charlie felt somewhat curious. So, he casually asked, “Brother, was your leg injured before?” Hamed turned his head around to glance at Charlie before he looked at his leg again as he sighed and said, “My left leg was once seriously injured in a battle. My leg was hit by fragments after a bomb explosion. At that time, there was only one way, which was to amputate my leg, but fortunately, after exhausting all of my energy, I managed to save my leg. However, my leg had already suffered irreversible damage. So, even after recovering, my muscles were severely atrophied, and the function of my leg also deteriorated greatly. So, I ended up

EMILY It had been one month since my life changed forever. The pain in my leg was no longer the sharp, burning agony it used to be, but it still pulsed and ached like a constant reminder of everything I had lost. My right leg was gone. Amputated. Just like that. One gunshot and everything spiraled. I had cried rivers, screamed into pillows, and cursed the world-but none of it brought my leg back. The only thing that kept me going now was the tiny life I cradled every morning.

Apart from that bleeding they had stopped from coming out of his mouth, his left and right legs looked mangled as though they had been crushed into a pulp. “We can,” Joel said quietly. Mary looked up at the sound of his voice. His tone matched the crestfallen expression she saw on his face-pain. Then she saw him tapping his hands against his legs and understood. He thought about what would happen to the man if he woke up and realized that his legs were gone. Would he hate himself and wish he had died? Mary has been in the same situation once. She had amputated the legs, it being the only way they could stop the infection from eating up the whole body. But when the man had woken up, he had re

Everything started going wrong since that night. I was here, thrown into this filthy, stinking hell. And I couldn't even kill that idiot Alexander. I shot him, and before I could pull the trigger the second time, I got hit in the leg. At the hospital, the doctor explained that the bullet fragmented and destroyed the nerve endings and blood vessels in the area. Reconstruction would be impossible, so they amputated my entire leg, almost at the groin - making it impossible to fit a prosthetic. So I depended on these damn crutches to walk. After they cut off my leg, they transferred me from the hospital to the infirmary of this horrific prison. As soon as I was a bit better, they threw me into t

“Didn't your friend tell you? They were trying to amputate your leg saying it was infected. Your friend went there and saved you. You would have been a one leg Missy now.” My whole body went cold. I didn’t understand. I didn’t remember either. Why would anyone want to do that to me? The walls seemed to tilt around me, and fear coiled tight in my stomach. I hit my head continuously, I was hearing voices in my head. Amputate her leg!! Amputate her leg!! “I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, my eyes shot tightly. “Why would you want to do that to me? Why would anyone…?”

I was merely going because I had exhausted my medical excuses for the week, thus I couldn't lie about the phantom pain that I often felt on the stump of my leg. That's right, my right leg, where I was shot was amputated two weeks ago. According to the surgeon, the bullets had destroyed my veins and it'd be advisable to cut my right leg, or else it could affect my other good leg. “Thank you,” I whispered, as a warden helped me onto the chair in the dock. I could feel everyone's eyes on me but I had no option but to put up with the strange stares. Let's face it, I ruined my own life by ever involving myself in the world of crime, all because of a man.

He was so thin that one as old as the priest she had just met could easily count his ribs without the aid of any lens. His lens and pupils were replaced with a plain milky colour with irritating discharges staining his eyes lashes. He had an amputated arm and leg. Right hand and left respectively he coughed while saying these words. There wasn't any plate nor crutches to support his begging ordeal. He was just there in an irritating position on the floor. Dale's tears flowed down her cheeks. This time she didn't sob. This time she wasn't raped. This time a loved one wasn't killed. Neither was she beaten.