《Garden of Death》
Part One - Sickness
SFX/ Skreee squeee skrek
The sound of tired metal whining could be heard as a chair crawled forward. It was just another addition to the background noise that hummed through the halls.
A young boy slumped back in the chair, accepting the ride without eagerness or protest. His dark brown hair slightly unkept as it fell over his brows. From his appearance he looked to not even yet a teenager, but his face was sunken and tired like a man facing the end of a long life.
His eyes lightly closed to the scenery around him, while his other senses never halted in taking in those familiar sounds and smells.
The quiet hums of the machinery and sudden buzz as the innercom came to life. As the scent of medicine and chemicals assualted the nose. The steady atmostphere that could change in a moment in the case of an emergency.
These things had always been with the boy, since as long as he could remember. While a normal child probably spent their time idly passing by with school and friends, he was trapped within the confines of a hospital.
Through the years of tests and treatments. He grew up far from a life he could have had. The boy had grown tired of the curse he was born with.
As his family, friends and doctors, told him to live on and with hope. Day after day. He began to resent life, seeing those around him come and go while he is always confined to rot.
SFX/ Skreek skrek
As the boy held in his bitter thoughts the chair turned into his room. A two bed room devided by a curtain, on the far wall a large window. The chair crawled to the bed near the door and the nurse helped him into bed.
Although the bed beside the window is empty, he had been given the other. He had once asked to move, but they passed off his words. The chair is folded beside the bed while the boy covers his limp legs with a sheet.
She spoke with a smile about the upcoming results to the tests from today and of the upcoming meal. But the boy only turned away to stare blankly at the wall. A slight sadness could be seen in her eyes, but as the boy did not stray his view from the plaster white wall he did not see it.
She left not too long after. She like many other nurses tried to get close to the sickly boy, but it seemed to be of no avail. The boy has given up or to be more precise, he has grown tired.
As he laid back on the bed, he turned to see if he could catch a glimpse of the window past the dividing curtain. However it just doesn''t seem he will. The curtain is drawn out completely, the view blocked from the boy''s eyes.
He sighs and closes his eyes to rest. "...again..." He murmers as he dozes off.
A dim light shines in the sky as a fog lays across the dark landscape.
As if color is a foriegn entity in this land. The blackened and bare trees sparsely cover the grey dead soil. The air itself frozen with a deathly chill, air as stale and rotten as the land.
A single soul inhabits this place. With a familar face, his hair has been darkened black, the same unkept hair from his woken life. His sunken cheeks and sullen eyes are cast downward. His hospital robe rotted and falling apart in places, his skin grey to match the scenery.
He walks listlesslyhere. A dream he has seen since he was a child. In a place just as familiar as the hospitals he spent his life.
His feet drags as he lumbers forward. Once in the past he had felt elation at being able to walk in his dreams, but as the reoccuring dream came everytime he closed eyes, the feeling stagnanted into weariness.
Although no wind blew in this place the fog rolled over the ground in waves. Passing through without looking up the boy continued on. Knowing instinctively where the path lead, yet trudging on regardless.
In the distance the sight of an wrought iron fence could be seen, upon closer inspection it was as old and rotted as the land it was build on. The fog seemed to seep from beyond the gate, filling the surrounding forest.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The boy made his way to the gate, his legs going heavier with every step. He looked up for the first time since he began walking, staring intensely at the gate. His arms reached out towards the latched gate, grasping the rough rusted bars. Putting allof his strength into his legs he pulled the gate willing it to budge.
SFX/ KRA KRAK
His jaw clenched as he struggled. The gate unmoving, only moving enough to let out a painful creak.
The boy fell to his knees, still grasping the gate. He rests his forehead on the bars and looks beyond the boundary. The sight of a graveyard fills his vision, the uneven landscape dotted with tombstones, monoliths and statues.
But such things didn''t concern him, moving between the graves, with large scyths propped on their shoulders. Tall, in black cloaks, they floated just above the ground. Their appearance is that of the reapers in mythology.
The boy opened his mouth to yell, calling out to the entities beyond, but no noise could be heard. As if his voice denied.Yet he continued to yell, clenching the gate harder in his hands. Blood slowly slipped from his hands, sickly blackened color. But there was no pain, not that it mattered, the boy continued on unfazed.
Silently screaming to the ghosts of death. Crying for relief, crying for death, crying just to cry.
He began coughing up blood from his raw throat, struggling to continue. The ghosts of this land continues weaving through the graves, unfazed by the boy at the gate. Not even aware of his presence.
The boy knowing they would never hear him still tried, even when he came to resent them for not seeing him. An endless cycle, continuing on. Forsaken by life and by death. The boy cursed this rotten world, and those who refused him life as well as death.
He let go of the gate and laid back on the ground, it was cold. He looked as his bleeding hand, he would probably wake up soon. He turned his head back to the graveyard, a knot formed in his throat. Before he could open his mouth the fog began to envelop him. banishing him from this land of death.
SFX/ beep beep beep...
The sounds of the hospital slowly began to fill his ears. His dream forgotten as he began to focus on the stir around him.
A stable monitoring system beeps somewhere nearby, it was probably his own. He could hear frantic noises about but he drowned them out. He did his best to keep his eyes unfocused as a nurse tested his dialation with a flashlight. He did not want to bother with anyone.
The worried voices calmed down after some time as the presences around him decreased. He recognised some of the voices, but didn''t listen to what they spoke about. He was unconcerned about his own health and treatments.
While he had slept his heart had stopped and he had been pulled back by the technicians. That was the likely cause of this stir. A dense pain was throbbing through out the boys head and chest, it was probably caused by a defribulator. He was slightly disappointed.
as the voices decreased he became aware of the two people left in the room. Even if he didn''t open his eyes, he knew who it likely was. A warm hand grasped hisown tightly, he almost flinched. the pain in his chest excited slightly.
Probably noticing him clenching his teeth, his mother spoke to him. Her voice cracking slightly, she had probably been crying.
"Mi-Michell? Michell? A-are you awake?"
The boy named Michell cursed himself slightly. He did not want to speak to his family, and did his best to fake sleep when he could. He opened his eyes and turned his sore neck towards his mother.
She looked to be only in her late 20s. Her wavy brown hair running past her shoulders stopping at her shoulder blades. Her green eyes red from crying looked to her son with hope and fear. Completely unaware of her son''s hateful feelings.
Thus when she saw her son open his eyes, when not very long ago he was on the brink of death, she fell to his shoulders hugging him tightly.
Mitchell cringed at the sudden pain, his teeth clenching further. He brought his hand to comfort his crying mother, as he looked to the end of his bed where the second guest was standing. It was his elder brother, he had a pained look in his eyes.
Similar to Michell himself, his brother had dark brown hair cut short as to not fall over his eyes. Facial hair was showing signs of growing on his face, he had most likely not had time to shave. His suit appeared discheveled as well. Was he getting ready for work when he rushed here?
Visible bags can be seen under both of their eyes. Michell could feel a knot growing in his throat, he did not want to see his family. But he didn''t seem to have a choice, as they stuck around for quite some time. Speaking of anything new, pointlessly draging on topics.
Things like, his brother had gotten a shift change, mother had taken up an old hobby again and so on. Only speaking up when he had to Mitchell wished the time would pass quicker.
It didn''t take long though, his brother took the lead and headed off first. Reluctently his mother soon followed leaving him in silence again as a nurse came to fix an IV drip to his arm.
SFX/ drip. drip.
"I...wonder if my heart...will stop again..." He said it louder then he meant, causing the nurse to give him a sad look.Checking his charts and IV drip, the nurse tried to start small talk hoping to cheer him up.
But as usual he took to looking at the wall, ignoring the nurses attempts at socializing.
Part Two - Rot
Michell *******, 12 years of age. Currently in inpatient care at the city''s central health facilities.
His condition is uncertain. Itseems to stabilize right on the brink of death. To all the doctors in charge of his personal care, his illness is a mystery.
As if he refuses to die, he continues again and again to surprise the staff as he returns from a state of clinical death. Leaving the doctors to only scratch their heads more.
With every test coming back inconclusive and the outcomes of the treatments only worsening his condition. The doctors are at a loss.
Reviewing his medical history, a senor doctor of his team organises the information in hand. From the first signs of the mysterious illness.
A child barely the age of four is admitted to a local hospital with a severe case of pneumonia, from a simple cold his condition quickly worsened to the distress of his parents.
Following the condition as the standard treatments are carried out, although it was touch and go the childs stablizes.
A follow-up check before discharge shows a strange abnomality in the test. Such a thing wasn''t unusual, tests require cross checks quite often for conclusive results.
Without much worry the technition at the time discharges the child with follow-up care instructions. If that was all it wouldn''t have been worth noting, but the following night the child is rushed back by parametics after his heart stopped in his sleep.
Reaching a state of clinical death at the ER, the doctors sign his first death certificate. Not three hours later the child wakes up histerically crying in the morgue.
The number of incidents only increase. With the slow deterioration of his nervous system and circulation, by the age of 7 he lost all use of his legs.
His heart giving out regularly and his body slowly shutting down, without a single clue to the cause.
Starting back at the pneumonia the doctors started by searching for a viral or bacterial root. Ending up without any conclusive proof it was such.Testing for cancers and autoimmune responses, with no avail. If anything his cell growth and immune function was decreasing with the deterioration.
With the state of the illness, an illness quickly deteriorating the body and bringing the patient into a state of clinical death regularly, the child was admitted to a inpatient facility for his treatment.
Continuing through the medical log, the senor doctor has something else he is looking for. Although the log isn''t as well kept as the treatment and condition log, he was curious about the mental deterioration.
The four years since his admittance, his mental health has greatly declined in the eyes of the doctors and nurses. Many believing it was normal, the child growing up in a hospital constantly fighting for his life.But the senor doctor was uncertain if it was a regular case of enviromental depression, but without a detailed log he can''t link it to the illness as related.
Closing the documents, the doctor furrows his brow. He would have to ask the family directly if he wanted to know.
Michell was laying in his hospital bed staring at the ceiling. Fatigue was currently overwhelming him, but he didn''t feel the urge to revisit his reoccuring dream at the moment. He gazed over at the curtain dividing his room in two.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
It was just out of reach, with the state of his legs and weakness that has threatened to make his arms follow suit, he wouldn''t be able to move closer. He turned his head towards the door, as the sound of footsteps began to distinctly get closer.
He returned to looking at the ceiling as a nurse entered the room. She asked him several things about his condition, and he vaguly responded without interest. Whether it be his slowly numbing arms or the pain that assulted his head, he knew the medicine would only create more problems.
He slightly hoped one of the treatments would bring about an end of all this, whether to cure him or kill him. He would accept either without question.
She changes the drip and asks him if he will be eating today. He doesn''t answer, his appetite was nonexistant and what he did eat gave him terrible cramps. His meals often ended in him vomiting or suffering for several hours. She was most likely aware of this.
Michell glaced at the folded wheelchair that was proped against the wall beside his hospital bed. He debated asking for a ride around the ward, he would often do so when he didn''t feel like sleeping. There were few things to entertain patients in a hospital.
Few rooms had televisions, but the hospital currently only had antenna access and the reception was questionable. Magizines and books were an option, but they never interested the boy much. His education has stagnated in the hospital, and he wasn''t able to read enjoyably.
Catching his gaze while he is lost in thought the nurse asks him if he wanted to go somewhere. He hesitates for a moment before taking the oppurtunity, with a quiet voice.
"If I can..."
The nurse took his quiet questioning tone as him being shy. This particular nurse was a regular visiter of Michell''s, one that hasn''t given up on making nice.
She was young, probably barely even twenty. Her wild blond curls roughly tied back in a pony tail. Her dainty figure probably caused her to be mistaking for a teeager often. Though there was a gentle maturity in her pale blue eyes. Even for Michell who was adamant in his way, he wasn''t so heartless that she didn''t sway him ever so slightly.
Helping him into the wheelchair with a little effort, she wheeled him out of the room. It was often that this nurse would take him for rides through the ward. Though he would try his best not to be interested, she would still speak to him about life and experiances outside the hospital.
SFX/ skree squeee skree
He didn''t know why, but it somehow calmed his mind. Leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes, he took in the feeling. Not too long after he fell asleep.
The colorless wasteland filled Mitchells sight when he opened his eyes. As his feet dragged foward on the same cold path, he looked downwards.
His cold grey toes showing signs of necrosis as the lumbered on, he was not in pain thoough. He could only see the rot, he could not feel it. Not paying mind as the skin slowly peeled back from the rotting flesh and bone.
He looked up to see the same wrought iron gate in front of him. Reaching out a hand to grab it.
Flinch
His hand jerked away from the bars, or at least what should have been hand. Blackened necrosis and tar thick blood had taken over his right apendage.
Flesh stripped off in layers, twisting away from his bones as they dropped to the cold ground. He clasped his hand tightly with the other hoping to halt the decay. But it was no use, the flesh fell apart further from his touch, exposing the small bones of his wrist and the beginning of his arm joint.
His breathing quickened as he looked back towards the gate. Doubtful he could move it with one hand alone, the servants of death on the other side were as unfazed as they had always been.
He fell to his knees clutching his arm as the rot steadly advanced to his elbow. Even without the pain and feeling, the shock overcame him. Such a thing has never happened before.
The slow rotting of his feet as he walked through this wasteland was a regular occurance, the rot would settle in the moment he set foot here. It always took his feet, but he was able to move on even at the loss of his toes. Watching the flesh blacken a fall away like mud made his stomach turn.
He frantically cried out towards the cemetary, knowing they would give no care. He still cried and screamed, with a voice that made no sound, and carried no further then his own throat.
The fog began to converge on his vision. Again banishing him from the cursed place.
Part Three - Arm
Torn awake by the sharp pain like a burning knife stripping his flesh. The dream still fresh in his mind he tried to raise his arm expecting to see the same putrid rot.
But his arm did not move. He screamed out in agony at the waves of sharp pain moving from his chest to his arm, as if ripping apart from the inside. Even with the will to move his body didn''t obey.
Summoned by the screams of pain, several nurses entered the room with worry on their faces. Many were familiar with Mitchell as he had been a patient since he was a child.
Such an outburst of agony was highly unsual, in the past when he began to lose his legs he would occasional complain of pain. But not to this degree, a new symptom meant new worries.
Michell cried out as nurses fawned over him to get a grasp of the situation, assuring him the doctor was on their way. Cold sweat had dampened his sheets and his breath was shallow as he tried to endure.
A nurse that had come and go from the beginning returned with a new IV, it was most likely laced with a type of strong pain reliever. He turned his head over to get a look of his arm.
His gown had been pulled off exposing his chest and shoulder, the rot from the dream was nowhere to be seen. But the pain was there, his arm was convulsing painfully, though he had no control of it.
A pin prick from the IV barely grasped his attention as his arm clenched and twisted as though possesed. He cried out again as the sharp pain exploded through his arm, one of the nurses began restrianing his arm and frantically asked for the doctor to hurry.
Having bite his gums while he clenched his jaw, the wound slowly seeped blood from the corner of his mouth. He stiffened as the pain slowly began to subside, still expecting the spasms to assualt him again.
SFX/ haah hah haah...
He panted at the moments relief, relaxing into the bed and closing his eyes. He willed himself to sleep, to return to the rotten wasteland where he not even feel pain. But he was soon pulled back when a nurse roused him awake.
He turned his tired eyes to look at her, not even willing to move his neck an inch. Her familiar face filled with worry and her blond curls even more messy then they were before.
She had heard the news about Michell''s sudden painful spasm and had taken to checking on him herself. Although when she asked him how he was feeling he just closed his eyes.
He felt extremely drained, his usually fatigue was now an overwhelming exhaustion. He didn''t have it in him to move an inch, let alone speak, so when he saw her worry he felt more resent for this curse of his.
He just wanted to sleep. Fall into a deep sleep without dreams. Even if it meant never waking up again, in this life without freedom, he could only suffer.
As his breathing slowed and he was taken by sleep, the young nurse felt a aching in her chest. Even as a nurse in an inpatient facility, such an ilness is something she has never seen before.
She felt like he would die the moment she looked away.
SFX/ bep beep bep bep
stirred by the sound of his beeper at his waist the senor doctor rises from his work. He had been reviewing the history of his patient again, only to be called for an emergancy from said patient.Stolen story; please report.
If his heart had stopped again, the hospital staff would have revived before I arrived. By the urgency of it, it was something new. A new symptom.
Such news panged the man with anxiety as he made his way to Michell''s room. A new symptom could mean either a break through towards recovery and diagnosis, or the deterioration was excelerating.
SFX/ tep tap tap
His feet quickened as he came to the inpatient ward. Although it is called the inpatient ward, this ward particularly was for unstable patients in need of quick attention. Within a ten minute walk from the staff offices, making quick responses to any emergancy.
He came to Michell''s room panting slightly, but not out of breath. Before him was a familiar nurse. A new face to this particular hospital, she only started a couple of months ago.
In that time she has become attached to Mitchell and can often be seen wheeling him around the ward in his chair. he was surprised when he had heard, the antisocial Michell would frequently enjoy her company.
As the doctor entered the room she startled slightly, stuttering about his condition as she filled him in.
''Upon waking he had cried out, as he was known to be a quiet patient the nurses were rightfully panicked, his arm had begun painfully seizing. He was in visable agony as she stated with a pained face.
It took more then 15 minutes to settle him down, with the administered pain reliever by IV. He was promptly over come by exhaustion after that.''
Reviewing the facts he examined the arm in question. It was still twitching slight, but showed no response to stimulation. The tips of his fingers showed signs of oxygen deprivation, taking on a slightly blue color.
his brow furrowed while trying to grasp the cause. It was obviously the same deterioration that took over his legs, but the pain assaulting his nerves and the spasm were not symptoms of his previous case.
''Over come by a numbness as the legs loses function'' and ''joint pain and dull muscle pain slowly fade completely with feeling in the legs'' such notes still fresh in his mind after reading the medical history.
Testing the flexability, found the joints stiffened and protesting any movement as they occasionally twitched. the doctor was at a loss, the symptoms came suddenly, the examination from the evening before showed no signs of problems.
The nurse who had stepped to the side watched with a worried expression as the doctor murmured to himself and filled out the new symptoms on a form.
Although torn about what to do, she stuck around silently hoping to be of some help.
SFX/ heh haah hah
The wasteland unchanged no matter how many times visited.
Michell knew as much. putrid rot dripped from his arm, the rot stopped half way past his elbow, he did not know if it was because of the events at the hospital or that the rot was just satisfied.
He was walking again through the wastelands dead forests. Except this time he moved not towards the but the opposite direction, in the years he had lived this dream he had come to know the vastness of this place.
And with purpose he moved on. Towards a stagnant lake that inhabits what he believes to be the southern edge of the wasteland. The cemetary to the north an endless meadow of dead to the east and painful darkness to the west if traveled far enough.
He soon came to the edge of a large lake. It would probably take a week to travel to the other side by following the shore, unfortunately, he was always given only a short amount of time here.
He sat at the edge looking out towards the opposite shore, the water was just as rotten as you''d expect from this land, but there was no helping it. He dropped his feet into the water. The soles of his feet were rotted away and blackened with putrid necrosis.
As his feet submerged he could feel his feet assualted be a sickening feeling. Even though he could not see beneath the surface, he came to learn of the fish that swam there.
Pulling his feet back the rot has been eaten away, leaving behind his grey foot, half gone, exposed muscles and tendons rapped loosely around exposed bones. He did not know why they would eat the rot instead of spreading it, but he found it useful.
He lowered his arm into the water and grimiced as the sickening feeling assualted him once more. As if they were licking inside his brain with their cold tongues, he pulled away his shoulder when the sensation ended.
His muscles spread away from the bone like a sickening flower. Fresh blood dripped as he ripped the rotted gown sleeve, he did his best to rap the muscles back together, it was hideous to look at without skin.
He sat back resting leaning on his good arm and looking out to the lake. Without noticing his feet slowly repaired themselves, weaving together new muscles and fresh skin spread out from the edges of the torn feet.
This often happened here. Alone rotting away, the young boy Michell has adapted to cope with his forsaken fate.