The Thing In The Waiting Room
By Grant Story

The fluorescence from the ceiling violated the depths of sight. There's was nothing I could do to stop this heinous invasion. As I was wheeled past empty rooms, the orderlies moved at a quicker pace. I was done here and it was time for my departure. I was brought to the front desk of this L-shaped hospice. A strange providence it was, the de-saturated lighting, the halls that birthed the surgical rooms, and the waiting hall that stretched to an unnatural length. In some aspects, the structure seemed to take on a life form all its own.
Staring at the swinging doors that connected this clinic to its chamber of accommodation, the nurse at the front desk signed me out. I could barely hear the conversation between the orderly and her. As they conversed, strange sounds emanated from behind the doors, into the waiting room. Muffled yelps and pleas of help seeped from the crevices of the hall doors. I stood upright from the wheelchair and took two steps forward. The cries of terror and madness had ceased. I paused in my tracks.
A discharge of immense proportion sounded from the walls. I turned to the employees of this rank asylum to discover that they hadn't noticed the destructive clamor. Before I could turn my gaze back to the ominous doors, a grumble forced its way into my thoughts and perception. Its resonance desecrated my senses and betrayed my awareness. The menial intonation spoke only one word from its convoluted maw...my name. My senses reeled as the adrenaline invaded my system. Fear and shock took on a whole new definition. In most cases, terror causes one to stop in his tracks, to be held back from vocal and physical support. This was that case yet I somehow found myself moving to the doors.
As I pushed through the entry, the cadavers of many bodies lay around me, on the couches, in the chairs, and motionless on the floor. Some had their eyes slashed out. Others' chest cavities protruded up from their torso, missing their hearts. My hands shook with an intense fear as I looked to the area where the electronic sliding doors would've been. All I could discern was smoke. As the vapor disbanded, I noticed a large opening where the entrance was. Fragments of the wall were absent as well, creating an even larger aperture. And there it was.
It stood there eyeing me. I could not make out its face from all the hair that hung in front of it's visage but I could feel it watching me, studying me. My name echoed through the hall yet again from its immoral jaws. Its intonations sickened my hearing. I could not think of anything but the way it moved its hideous vocals. It invaded my mind like a foul essence polluting a pure source.
Rising to a height of around four and a half feet, its body was concealed in hair. From where I stood I noticed that its colors resembled a filthy brown and yellow while its hands and face were stained with the blood of it's victims. I could only imagine its eyes being white, as if it had no pupils. But I knew it did not need them. It hunted using smell, hearing, and its intellect. It may have been blind through the eyes but it could observe just by functioning. Why did I know these things? And why was I not trembling so? As soon as I questioned myself, it was giving me answers. I think it was then that I went mad.
It began to run towards me. The display of the acrobatics it performed was hypnotic. Bouncing from one wall to another, it flipped and tumbled toward me. This oncoming terror was sheer beauty. Before I knew it, it was upon me. I shut my eyes as my flesh was punctured. I felt the warm essence of life flowing down my chest as its needle-like talons grasped my heart. My soul appreciated this and yearned for it. I was powerless. It embraced me, draining the vitality from my soon to be corpse.
Awaking in my bed, I felt alive again. My sanity had come back to me. How could this nightmare, that seemed so real, be untrue? My body was wet as if I had showered yet I must have been dreaming. I pulled back the sheets to see my dead corpse, mangled and dismembered, lying next to me. Everything made sense now for as I looked at my hands and arms, they were masked with hair and wet blood.

 

 

 

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