Nightmare Fuel, Day Three.

Here’s a new prompt for Nightmare Fuel from my friend Bliss Morgan.

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Usually the light in the corridor between the doors is turned off.  When I have the strength to crawl across the floor and then lever myself up on my crutches, and I look through the round window, all I can see is the glowing holes at the other end, baleful eyes glaring at me, casting murky patterns of shadow and light on the floor and walls between.

But tonight.  Tonight I can see the length of the space.  The light woke me up, and after panting my way up the wall and lurching around to lean against it, I look through the reinforced glass, and I can see everything.

Everything.

The floor is black, and flecked with grey speckles, and the walls are white.  The ceiling is tiled, fluorescents flickering in them, and they reflect off of the floor.  There’s a railing on the left side of the room, but wait, that’s not a railing, why would railing have chains looped through them?

On the right side are two beds.  One is empty.

The other is not.

I can see everything.

The empty bed is made, clean sheets, clean blanket, clean pillow and case.  The other bed is occupied.  All I can see is the top of their head.  It moves every so often.

I turn and put my ear to the window.  Yes.  I can hear muffled moans.

I turn back to look throught the window and knock on the door.  “Hello?” I call.  “Can you hear me?  I’ve been here a long time!”

No answer.  And as I raise my hand to knock again, the doors at the far end open.

Two people in lab coats walk in, carrying clipboards.  One stands over the person in the bed, performing all the usual medical tests.  Eyes, ears, throat, pulse… but wait.  That arm.  It’s missing.  The hand.  The doctor pulls up the other arm, also handless.  I stare through the window at the arm stumps, wrapped in white bandages, red stains at the very ends.

I can see everything.

Then the other doctor steps around and pulls a scalpel out of her pocket.  And with a quick slice.  Cuts off an ear.

The first doctor has turned away from me but then I see that he has cut off the other ear.  They wrap the occupant’s head with bandages, while the patient thrashes on the bed.  They give the patient a shot from a syringe, and the thrashing stops.

Then they go to the far doors and leave, but before they do, I can see that one doctor is chewing on the ear he holds.  Worrying it with his teeth, like a piece of jerky.

I pound on the door, shouting incoherently.  The female doctor glances up at me and nudges the other one.  He looks at me.  Tearing on the ear in his mouth.  He nods.  A promise.  To return.

Then they leave, and as they go, the lights in the corridor go out.  I can see is the glowing holes at the other end, baleful eyes glaring at me, casting murky patterns of shadow and light on the floor and walls between.

I close my eyes.  I sink to the floor.

I can see everything.

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