It was silent.
No laughter, no shouting, not even a soft murmur of conversation.
Just silence.
My footsteps echoed down the corridors, growing more frantic as I searched.
I looked everywhere. Every ward, every nook and cranny and linen closet.
Everywhere except the chapel.
The chapel was last. I didn't mean it to be, but every time I ventured near, my feet were diverted, guided elsewhere, until finally there was nowhere else to look.
The door was impossibly heavy, heavier than the flimsy wood should have made possible.
My first thought was that it must be barricaded, but a pale grey light still shone weakly through the crack at the bottom.
I considered throwing my weight against the door, and my frantic thoughts even half-formulated a plan for breaking it down, but something deep in my mind warned me not to break the silence.
That's when I heard it.
Not a whimper. By no means a shriek. Just a high, pitiful whine, almost out of my range of hearing.
The pain was unbearable.
I clapped my hands over my ears as my knees buckled, slowly crumpling into a ball against the door.
The piercing sound seemed to go on for eternity as the seconds trickled by.
Then... Silence.
It was over as quickly as it had started.
Relief washed over me as the peace was restored, but it was quickly replaced by fear.
Whatever was on the other side of the door must have heard me fall.
I rose to my feet slowly.
A voice in my head screamed for me to run, run as fast as I could.
Run and never look back.
But how could I leave?
An eerie calm washed over me as I leaned into the door once again.
It swung open with ease this time.
Before I had time to survey the scene before me, the shrill cry struck me down again.
I collapsed.
My eyes squeezed shut but I forced them open again, drinking in the strangest sight.
No laughter, no shouting, not even a soft murmur of conversation.
Just silence.
My footsteps echoed down the corridors, growing more frantic as I searched.
I looked everywhere. Every ward, every nook and cranny and linen closet.
Everywhere except the chapel.
The chapel was last. I didn't mean it to be, but every time I ventured near, my feet were diverted, guided elsewhere, until finally there was nowhere else to look.
The door was impossibly heavy, heavier than the flimsy wood should have made possible.
My first thought was that it must be barricaded, but a pale grey light still shone weakly through the crack at the bottom.
I considered throwing my weight against the door, and my frantic thoughts even half-formulated a plan for breaking it down, but something deep in my mind warned me not to break the silence.
That's when I heard it.
Not a whimper. By no means a shriek. Just a high, pitiful whine, almost out of my range of hearing.
The pain was unbearable.
I clapped my hands over my ears as my knees buckled, slowly crumpling into a ball against the door.
The piercing sound seemed to go on for eternity as the seconds trickled by.
Then... Silence.
It was over as quickly as it had started.
Relief washed over me as the peace was restored, but it was quickly replaced by fear.
Whatever was on the other side of the door must have heard me fall.
I rose to my feet slowly.
A voice in my head screamed for me to run, run as fast as I could.
Run and never look back.
But how could I leave?
An eerie calm washed over me as I leaned into the door once again.
It swung open with ease this time.
Before I had time to survey the scene before me, the shrill cry struck me down again.
I collapsed.
My eyes squeezed shut but I forced them open again, drinking in the strangest sight.
I'd found them... Or, what was left of them.
The patients.
Like a game of dominoes, they were lined up nicely in the pews.
Their eyes were all fixed on one point.
On her.
She was a tall figure, cloaked from head to toe in patchwork. Her strange garment flowed gently to the floor as she drifted between the pews. Her outstretched hand dragged over the heads of the patients, hooked like a scythe gathering wheat.
At the end of each pew she stopped, bowed her head, and inhaled deeply.
That high, torturous sound. It came from her.
Like a game of dominoes, they fell over one by one.
It was a slow collapse, their eyes rolling back, their noses bleeding.
I had just begun to creep backwards when her gaze landed on me.
Hello.The voice came from within my own head, echoey and sickly sweet.
I scrambled further back as she advanced, ever so slowly.
"Who... who are you? Where did you come from?!" I gasped out.
She stopped, tilting her head just a fraction too far.
From them, of course.She spread her arms wide, indicating to the bodies around her.
Their minds are so broken and pretty, and they all dreamed of me.As she drew closer, I saw her tattered coat more clearly.
 |
| via Etsy |
Scraps of home.
They said it hurts. They asked me to make it stop hurting. So I did. I sent them home.Under her tangled mop of hair, her mouth twisted into a smile.
She swept down another aisle, pulling the life from the final pew.
I fought against the pain this time, scurrying backwards.
I can feel you hurting too.
The shrill noise faded at last, and now I was almost to the door.
I can make it all better.
The voice was fainter this time, her patchwork growing visibly more frayed.
She took a step closer, still gliding, but her movements more stilted.
It dawned on me that she had killed her very source of life.
She was an invention of thirty broken minds, all yearning for home.
Minds that were now gone.
She was just a dream, a dream that was falling apart, but not fast enough.
She advanced upon me, stumbling and tripping over tattered fabric.
I closed my eyes, and somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a scream.
When I dared to open them again, all I saw before me was a pile of rags and dust.
Well, that and a few dozen dead patients. I breathed deeply.
It was time for a career change.
