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Writer's pictureAsher Neal

Jimmy's Journey

This is a short story I wrote about a red blood cell (erythrocyte) that is travelling through the circulatory system. I hope you enjoy!

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“Hey Jimmy, how are you doing?” Clark asks as we enter the left atrium.

“Pretty good.” I tell him. “My oxygen load is big today.”

“Yeah, I’m maxed out,” Clark says. “Asher must be exercising, the command center is pulsing pretty fast.” As he says this, the bicuspid valve opens and the plasma carries us into the left ventricle.

“Hey Geneva!” I call. “Is Asher working out?”

“I believe so,” she says. “But please treat our planet with more respect. That’s His Majesty to you.” Leukocytes like Geneva are so legalistic. Asher cannot hear us. He probably is not even thinking about us. The left semilunar valve unleashes us into the aorta, and I say hello to Josh and Megan. We ignore Geneva bragging about how important she is because she kills invading aliens.

“Are y’all as heavy with oxygen as I am?” I ask Josh and Megan.

“Yeah, Asher is lifting weights,” Megan tells me.

“That’s His Majesty to you,” Josh says sarcastically. From the aorta, we rush into the brachiocephalic artery, which carries us to the brachial artery. This artery is huge; thousands of blood cells pour through it. Josh, Megan, and I each enter different capillaries, taking our precious packages of oxygen to starving cells. The capillaries are tiny and cramped compared to the brachial artery.

“What’s up Grace?” I greet a platelet.

“I love muscular tissue,” Grace tells me. “It’s so warm when Asher works out.”

“It is hot in here,” I say. “And the brachial artery was so wide. Asher must be doing bicep curls.”

“I hope Asher doesn’t burst a blood vessel lifting this heavy,” Grace says. “Then I would have to actually work.” The plasma carries her away down the capillary while I pass through the cell layer to enter the muscular tissue. Dropping off my oxygen at my destination, I pick up some carbon dioxide.

“How do you like trash duty?” Geneva asks as I reenter the capillary.

“Oh, it’s you again,” I say.

“Yep, just doing my duty, watching out for viruses,” Geneva says smugly.

“Well, I’m doing my duty, getting rid of trash,” I call as the plasma sweeps me away. I am carried into the cephalic vein, which is filled with carbon dioxide-bearing erythrocytes, just like me. No one is moving as fast in this vein as we did in the artery. Eventually we reach the superior vena cava and pour into the right atrium of the command center.

“That was a good run,” Josh says.

“Not bad,” I tell him. “Where is Megan?”

“She had to go down the radial artery, so she’ll be back later,” Josh tells me. The tricuspid valve opens, and we enter the right ventricle. The command center pulses again, opening the right semilunar valve.

“He really must be working hard,” I say as we enter the pulmonary trunk. “This is a fast beat.” Josh and I ride the plasma up the left pulmonary artery to the left lung.

“I wish we could go to the right lung, it’s bigger,” Josh complains.

“Bigger doesn’t mean better,” says a platelet riding next to us. We reach the lungs and dump our carbon dioxide. Picking up our next package of oxygen, Josh and I ride the pulmonary veins back to the command center. Entering the left atrium, I see Clark.

“Ready to do it again?” Clark asks me. The bicuspid valve opens, and a new adventure begins.

THE END

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