Monster Hosptial

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

The blood-curling scream echoed through the breathless hallway like a police siren at a funeral. The soul-tearing shriek was unheard by in the blood-soaked building, to Emily’s horror, nobody living anyway. She ran through those sickly white corridors like a rat running through its maze to find it’s precious cheese. Unfortunately for this story’s rodent, it found a mousetrap. The butcher’s knife barely missed her lovely face. By now Emily was out of her mind with fear, the blood, the traps, the entire hospital. She stopped in her tracks and watched the blade spin in front of her eyes. She could see the dried blood on the fine gleam of its blade. She dared not move, she was very glad that she didn’t because about 4.5 seconds later, a somebody fell right where she would have been standing, had she moved. Well, it was more like somebody’s body than an actual somebody. A skeleton, wearing an impromptu Neuse made from the chain attached to his Flava Flav clock that he wore around his neck. To add to Emily’s horror, the clock was covered in blood, and it looked fresh.

She stood there, transfixed on the clock, watching the hours tick away. Any other time, this clock would have been hilariously out-dated, but under the circumstances, it was like watching a clown bleed out. Then she saw it. A cockroach, one cockroach. Then she panicked even more than when she saw the knife. She hated bugs, with a passion. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief when she saw that it climb up her dead friend’s leg…bone. Following their leader’s…lead, more cockroaches streamed into the murderous hallway.

After they pooled around her feet, she snapped like a twig and took off like a kid to the ice cream truck, but replace the joy of ice cream with the fear of flying butcher knives that dogged Emily down the hallway, her continued shrieks did nothing but heightening her already elevated sense of panic. Eventually she arrived at a door, had it not been at the end of the hallway, she would have missed its pale white appearance. She noticed it was slightly hotter at the end of the hallways than the rest of the winding maze that they wish to call a hospital. She reached out to the door handle and ended up continuing her verbal assault on the silence when she found that the door handle was on the verge of melting from the hear. Her hand throbbed from the blinding pain.

It had been about an hour since she had passed out from the pain, she could hardly remember. By now the heat was unbearable, and as she looked up, she saw a cloud of smoke billowing from the door. She immediately tried to get up and run back down the corridor, but she was still light headed and stumbled over her own feet and fell flat on her face. She now had a perfect view of what was coming down the hallway, her newly made creepy-crawly friends, the cockroaches. The fear enveloped her as she rose, her legs bolted towards the door, she used her t-shirt to cover the door handle, which did little to stop the pain, and opened it. Just as she did, she heard a blood-curling scream that could rival her own, the door swung open and after the wall of smoke, and her coughing, subsided, she searched for the source of the fire, and the scream. She found both in the same place.


A room made completely of a see though material, Plexiglas, maybe. It was enclosed except for the door, which was ajar. Inside the transparent hell was an inferno Emily had never seen the likes of before. In that she found the source of the ear-shattering wail. A man, middle aged, tall, good looking. This description was speculation, of course, because he was practically melting from the fire. Just before he passed out (she was shocked that he’d stayed conscious this long) he looked right into Emily’s eyes, and then died. For a man who was about lose his life, he looked so cold, so emotionless, so…inhuman. After he collapsed, Emily made a B-line for the door at the opposite side of the room, she entered the small room, which seemed to be the security hub of the hospital (which seemed rather pointless to her, she began to wonder what kind of hospital this was) Complete with dozens of screens and keyboards, the room felt as impersonal as the rest of the forsaken hospital. Emily broke down; falling to the floors she began alternating between coughing and crying. The smoke, it surrounded her, eating away at her life. The flames came closer, liking at her outstretched feet. She was paralyzed, she didn’t know if it was from the fear or the smoke that was circulating through her body, causing it to shut down, it was probably the smoke, because a second later everything went black.

She awoke from her wretched dream, drowning in her own sweat, but otherwise alright. The smoke and heat, and obviously the fire too, had gone. Why was she still alive? She surely should have been- this train of thought was abruptly derailed when she was brought back to earth, or wherever she was, by something sharp poking her in the leg. Her hand swan dived into her pocket to fish out what the intruder was. A three-ring journal was the catch of the day. With the wire from one of the rings protruding, obviously what had poked her. She had never seen the journal, at least she never remembered seeing it, but her name was written on the front, so obviously she had. She found much more than juicy gossip about the popular girls and the stupid jocks inside, on the single entry.

I want them to die. All of them. They call us terrorists? Look at them! The pigs! Oink oink. They try to silence us, but they don’t realize that we stand up for the beliefs and rights of everybody, and now that we’re gone, more will stand up and continue the fight. The world is not enough for them. If we ever find aliens, I’m sure we’ll wage war on them too. ALF and ET don’t stand a chance (granddad told me about those shows, just before they got him.) They control everything. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I hate it. But on the bright side (written on the side of the journal: Looking on the bright side, when there is no bright side) prison feels like everyday life, minus the “protests.” I figure that I should put this article in case anybody finds this once I’m dead. It’s from one of the prison’s decade old newspapers, of course owned by the government. So, in other words, complete- (the next word was scratched out violently, she know what it said)

The Soviet Herald
Issue I. Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Newly Re-Formed Soviet-Union Liberates North America

Soviet Union military general ValidSlav announced that operation “Riot Control” or “Контроль Бунта” was a completely success, Friday. Troops toppled the last opposition base in New York, ensuring victory. Unrest had grown when riots started in 2008, just before the presidential elections. According to officials, after that, two factions former, the Patriots (who were focused on right wings politics) and the Liberators (who were focused on left wing politics.) Fighting in the streets ensued, and soon the government was in shambles due to in fighting, the current president fled to Canada, but was arrested and brought before the UN within days. The day his trail was to begin, the embassy was attacked by terrorists, it is unclear what faction that they came from, but they caused a number of injuries and deaths, those who weren’t killed or managed to escape were taken away, including the president, whose whereabouts are still unknown. (A large picture of the president was included next to this) Martial law was immediacy declared for the United States, neighboring Canada and the newly formed South American Union (including Mexico, who joined just before the fighting began). The riots continued anyway, mostly due to the fact that most of the army was included in the rioting says presidential advisor Yuri Ivanikoff. A group of extremists soon ceased power in the government, only to declare anarchy. Analysts say that North America lost over a fourth of its population because of the rioting, heath issues and other things that the unreliable government failed to protect from. The Soviet Union (which successfully reformed in 2007) stepped in to install peace. Today marks the first day of freedom in the region, which is the newest state of the Union. Under the rule of the Union, the America Sector (consisting of all of North and South America) can expect the process of the government to take a few months, by that time the area should be more peace than it has been in decades, says the Union leader Alla Federov. She went on to say that she feared the Americas were spinning out of control since around 2000, when she says the area started to collapse. The fate of other countries such as Cuba, who are resisting the Union’s offer to help, is still undecided; Federov insists that they will be dealt with in a just way.


It’s enough to make anyone sick. Riots? A fourth of the population? Nobody was killed in these “riots”, or as we like to call them “peaceful protests”, but many were killed in the invasion, nobody knows how many, but a fourth sounds low. My best guess? Everybody who can’t run very fast. Or, fast enough.

Viva la Revolution
Emily.

Emily’s head swam, the backstroke to be exact. This was her? She was this protesting rebel? Not that it mattered, nothing mattered right now besides getting the hell out of…wherever she was. She looked up to the sea of idiot boxes, the security TV screens. Nothing. Nobody in any one of the pale rooms, not even her million little friends. Her eyes bugged (pardon the pun) at the emptiness, it’s a hospital, shouldn’t there be more people? Oh, and something else bugged (again, pardonne moi) her, Mr. Disco Inferno’s body was gone, so was any proof of his body, or the fire, ever being there, had she imagined it? A throb of pain from her right hand shattered this theory like introducing a rhino into an antique shop. Her hand, stilling burning in pain, snapped to her face, right in front of her eyes. The confusion in her mind spread like a blooming rose. There was no burn on her hand, well, no burn from touching that blistering doorknob, anyway. She had been branded. This was a bit much for her to take. The symbol stared at her, mocking her, she knew what the symbol was yet she never remembered seeing it. Her brain decided to shit down again, the last thing she saw before passing out was the taunting symbol. Night night.

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She awoke from her nightmare; the nightmare seemed dwarfed by her current situation. Just before the dream slipped from the slippery fingers of her consciousness, forever to be lost in the deep rifts of the subconscious, she conjured up some images of the dream. Something about a giant killer mutant vegetable, oh, and some cockroaches, just to annoy her, she supposed. Upon dusting herself off from the fall to the floor, she made another disturbing discovery after she woke up, something odder than mutant vegetables, for her anyway, of course she had tried mutant vegetables before, tasted too much like metal. Anyway, the discovery was one that was truly terrifying, in front of her, the wall of TV screens had changed. Her face was now projected on all but one of the dozens of different screens in front of her, except one. In the dead center was a single white T.V, one she’d never seen before. On it was this message, in a scribbled script.

Timg to bIg gmIlig

She rubbed her eyes, twenty seven times. What the hell was this? She was never the smartest girl in the class, but even she knew that this was complete and utter gibberish. The “to” and the “big” were the only ones that sounded vaguely English. She took a step closer to the luminescent box of wonder, only to find that taking that step was like taking a step off the C.N Tower. She fell to her knees, and then the rest fell to the faded white linoleum. She had no idea how it all happened, first she was standing, then she was on the ground. Then, she was asleep.

Again, the mutant vegetables plagued her dreams, but she was distracted by something else. A puddle, right next to her. It was tinted slightly green, she assumed it was from the rank floor that she was laying on, normally that would make her sick, but she was paying attention to something else, the white TV. From the reflection in the puddle she could see the odd message clearly, though slightly green, but the odd message now made sense. The letters were backwards, except the g’s. She couldn’t figure it out until she realized they made a sort of warped e. The message read:

Time to dIe emIle

She could only assume that “emIle” meant “Emily”, even if she wished that whoever, or whatever it was that was in such a murderous mood was after some girl named “emIle”, not her, as selfish as that may be. She fought valiantly to keep her consciousness, her body protested; she hadn’t eaten or drunken anything since she got to this wretched place. Her mind fought her body, but it was like a life raft in a hurricane, it didn’t stand a chance. She awoke again, only to find a blatant inconsistency in the room since she had last seen it. All the TVs now had a new program on, they all featured clocks. Digital, traditional, 24 hour, 12 hour, red clocks, blue clocks, green clocks, that deal. All the clocks said the same thing “11:58” (except the 24 hour ones, which read “23:58”) but of course the time was subject to change. She noticed another thing that was out of place, the white television. It had been removed from its original spot, seemly impossibly, considering at least twenty other TVs were stacked on it. It was now located on the top of the pile, like the king of the hill, mocking the others who had not reached the top. Also, the sparkling white box’s pure black screen was off. As her mind wandered, which was hard not to, how long had she been here? Why can’t she remember anything? Who moved the TV? The clocks continued their funeral procession onward as she daydreamed, tick, tick, tick. Or in some cases tick, tock tick, tock. All the flickering screens had sound effects. As the clocks hit 11:45, like, well, clockwork, she noticed the lights ever so slowly start to dim, just before the clock hit 12:00, the lights were almost out. By 11:59, the light was nothing but the dimmest of glows, even overshadowed by the incessant glow of the TeeVees. Then, exactly as all the television clocks hit midnight, they all turned off, as did the overhead tube light. Thus extinguishing the only source of illumination for her personal prison cell. Just as she was ready to break down and start the waterworks, the faithful white television, on top of the carcasses of the now defunct televisions, sprang to life. It showed the classic “3…2…1…” of the ancient movies from the fledgling days of film, it defiantly gave off that vibe. It was grayscale, and defiantly high definition. As the movie started, Emily, or emIle, as her murderous stalker called her, she couldn’t help but wish she had popcorn. The film showed a scientist, or so she assumed from his fancy white, or rather, light gray coat. He started speaking, and as Emily sat in stunned silence, she still wished she had popcorn.

“We here at CURE would like to welcome you, and thank you for deciding to partake in our research. We are dedicated to making sure that your stay with us is comfortable, so feel free to ask your group leader for anything. Each day here will begin with 3 hours of exercise, to ensure that all of our subjects are in the best of physical shape. Afterwards, you will be served a nutritious breakfast, and immediately following that, the tests will begin. Your tests will depend on your group, but we assure you that they are all safe, because your safety and well-being is of utmost concern to us. Thank you again for participating, we hope everything goes well.”

Then, before the white TV melted into the darkness, a message appeared on the screen

“Brought to you by the Chemical Understanding, Research and Education program”

By now things like things like this weren’t as shocking to her, hell, she even stayed conscious, as much as her body still protested. Honestly, she didn’t care about all of this, she just wanted out. O-U-T. She got up and casually strolled out of the room, back in to the endless twisting hallways, just wandering on autopilot. It never occurred to her she was probably in shock, of course, shock victims seldom realize what’s happening. During her endless pursuit for whatever she’s looking for, Emily saw at least 3 skeletons, many with broken legs, arms, or fractured skulls, some missed body parts all together. When she finally reached a dead end, instead of turning around to find another corridor, she collapsed against a wall, sobbing uncontrollably, letting her anguish pour from her eyes. Her wails echoed through the breathless hallway. When she was done, and her eyes had dried, she picked herself up and kept walking.

Emily fished into her pocket again, pulling out the journal of her past life, the life before this tortured one. She re-reads the lonely entry, as she nonchalantly stepped over a skeleton just in the process of rotting (that makes 4, unless she had already passed this one). She flipped through again, still seeing only the one solitary entry. Going through it a third time, she noticed something, two pages; stuck together. They were glued shut, so she pulled them apart, carefully, ripping them in half. When they did come apart, even if they were in several pieces, she found one more entry, rather short for long-winded friend, herself.

LuckiNthatV

That odd entry, courtesy of herself, was as odd as the death threat care of the T.V. She decided that decoding this obscure message was imperative to escaping, so, walking down the lifeless corridor, she started thinking. She walked until her legs ached, she then leaned against a wall and slumped to the floor, wishing she were home, doing…whatever it is that she does. She started at the entry until her vision went blurry and her mind began to drift into the faint whisper of an industrial ceiling fan, somewhere off in the distance. Just before she slipped to sleep, she looked at the entry again.

Her dream was her average trip, but there was one thing that was different, just at the end of her dream, there was a little girl sitting in the corner, she had no clue where this corner was. Emily walked over and tried to see what the girl was doing, she found out, the little girl was reading Emily’s mysterious journal entry, only she was mumbling to herself, Emily leaned in closer to hear…

Emily awoke, writing down her dream onto the flip side of the journal in question, so that the faint memory would not escape into one of the many deep canyons of her mind. She decided that the dream was a sign; she knew it would help her somehow. After hours of racking her overworked and underfed brain, she could not think of anything. She decided it might help if she re-enacted the dream. The corner didn’t seem significant, but she did it anyway, then, like a crazy on the side of the road, she started mumbling to herself. Hardly able to hear herself, she spoke louder and clearer, reading the entry. She keep saying it, putting the accent on different letters, still nothing clicked. Nothing. She repeated it for the 9th time, the 10th, the 11th, the 12th, the 13th. She got it. She knew what the message said. She ran back down the hallway, trying to find the T.V room. Luckinthatv. Lookinthatv. Look in the TV.

She arrived, short of breath but at her most optimistic since she awoke for the first time. She ran in the room, looking at the tidal wave of tee vees. Which one to look in? She grabbed a broken piece of wood that was lying on the discolored floor, she started swinging. Hitting maybe 10 or 20 idiot boxes, and finding nothing, before setting her sites on the king of the boob tubes, the white television. She had to stand on her tiptoes, having let her plank drop; she managed to grab a hold of it. She pulled it down so hard that the electrical cord from the back ripped from the wall. She lifted it over her head, and using her delicate yet strong hands, she hurled it to the floor. Letting all the rage and frustration flow through her, then to the TV, she watched as the white box explode as the screen hit the linoleum, it shattered into a trillion pieces. As it hit, she heard a deafening BANG! Followed by a whoosh and the quick bang then crash of a bullet hitting the tiles on the wall. Emily moved the shattered remains of the television formally known as the “king of TVs.” Under the wreckage she found a .44 magnum, the classic Dirty Harry gun. She picked up the recently fired weapon, feeling disappointed yet reassured at the same time. She had expected a key or a cell phone, but instead she found a means of protection, she couldn’t really complain. Seeking an escape, she re-entered the killer corridor, winding her way through the twists and turns until she came to two solid steel double doors that she had never seen before. She recklessly ran through the doors with a swoosh, immediately wishing she hadn’t. Inside the room was the biggest science fiction cliché she could have ever imagined, the room was filled with some sort of…creatures, encased in large tubes, swimming in some sort of green liquid. While she had always thought it foolish in the movies, she now realized it was all too real. Suppressing the urge to start shooting, she moved her eyes to a colossus door. Her mind did back flips, could this be the exit? Could this all be over? She moved over to the door, not seeing a handle, she looked around. She spotted a big green button, reaching out for it, ignoring the spark shooting number pad above it, she pressed the button. The doors slowly, suspense fully creaked open, and as they did, Emily’s optimism faded to a horrified reality. This wasn’t an exit, no; it was a prison cell for these freaks, these mutants in front of her. Holding her gun in front of her as the first wave of mutants approached, it dawned on her that this gun was never for protection, no, this gun really was her way out. Checking it, she found exactly what she suspected, one bullet. As she turned the gun around, she though to herself; Goodbye Monster Hospital