It’s a hard thing, coming to terms with the fact you’re dying.I know that for most people death is some far-off abstract concept, some ‘’philosophical’’ issue,if you will.. I was like that too when I thought I had my whole life ahead of me- I imagined that when my time came,I’d be more than ready to leave this whole place behind me. The funny thing about death, however , is that you won’t really know how you feel about it until you come face to face with it. My moment of ‘’enlightenment’’ came when I was 32- I felt a sharp pain in my chest and, before I knew it, I was lying on the office floor,staring at the ceiling and the terrified faces of my colleague all huddling over me. When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors told me I had an advanced form of coronary disease , and that I’d need a heart transplant in order to live. It was then that I knew I’d give anything to stay alive.
The only important thing in my life became waiting for a donor to pop up. However,as you may know, suitable donors are hard to come by,and waiting lists can be endless. To me,the idea of a successful transplant started feeling like how religious people talk about ‘’ rapture’’- some far-off, incredible event that could solve all your problems and bring you eternal bliss, if only you could live to see it. That is, until I got a suspicious message on one of my social media accounts.
The sender, who claimed to be reaching out to me because he saw one of my posts on a facebook support group, was offering to perform a transplant on me in their private clinic,and he could do it as early as next week. Now , I know how shady this sounds, but keep in mind that I was extremely desperate. Also, I was already dying , so it’s not like I had that much to lose either.
The ‘’clinic’’ did not look like a clinic at all. It wasn’t some run down abandoned building or anything creepy like that- it was an ordinary two-story suburban house. there was this air about it though- sterile and inhospitable, like the feeling you get in the waiting room before a dreaded appointment. The man who greeted me outside the building was no doctor either- he was short and squat, and his face was barely visible because of the unkept white beard that covered it. He looked me up and down with an uncertain look on his face before even saying hello, His doubts seemed to go away when he put his hand on my chest He gave a wide,yellow toothed grin, and in the raspiest,most gravelly voice I’ve ever heard, said- “ The doctor will see you now.”.
The inside of the clinic was not much different from the exterior- white tiles everywhere, blinking fluorescent lights, and that same feeling of unnatural sterility.The man took me to a room at the end of one poorly lit hallway and said this was where my doctor was waiting. It had a door with metal bars in front of the regular one, which I found a little weird. After unlocking both, the man swung the door open, revealing a pitch black room which he instructed me to enter. This is when I thought I would surely get murdered , but I knew I was too weak to try to fight or run away, so I did as I was told. I was surprised when the man did not enter after me,but all my relief vanished after I heard the door get locked behind me.It was then that I saw them- two dark-orange pinpricks of light in the corner of the ceiling. I thought my heart was going to give out there and then. Frantically,I scrambled for the door,pulling on the handle as hard as I could,cold sweat pouring from every pore in my skin,but try as I might I couldn’t make it budge.
I fell to my knees on the cold floor,shivering and crying in fear.The two lights were slowly coming closer to me,so I backed away until my back hit the wall.When the lights were right in front of my face they sort of tilted to the side ,as if they were studying me .Then,after they resumed their previous position, i felt a burst of agony in my chest. I could hear my skin splitting open and my ribs cracking as I felt something plunge into my chest.Warm blood was pouring down my shirt as I slipped to the side. To this day,I believe I was dead for a couple seconds there.What brought me back to life was the sensation of a second reaching into my chest- I felt something being placed in the bloody mess where my heart had just been,and then… an itch, like when the skin over a scraped knee is growing back ,except a hundred times stronger.Thats when I heard the key in the lock turn again. Shocked by the fact that I still could,I rose to my feet and ran out of the room, shoving the man with the key away from the doorframe.
I’ve neve ran like that in my life- the only things I remember on my way home were the shocked faces of the people on the street and that maddening itch. I got a good look at myself in the mirror when I was safe at my house. I looked a mess, and I was covered in blood,but there was no sign of a wound,other than the skin on the left of my chest being slightly discolored- it was like nothing had happened. I thought about going to the hospital, but I had no Idea how to even describe what had happened to me . Besides I felt good- better than I had in ages.No fatigue,no shortness of breath- it was amazing.
However, I noticed a few strange things happening to my body over the next few weeks. I started craving red meat a lot, even though I had never liked it before. The discolored patch of skin grew,and I could sometimes feel a slight tug where my heart is.When I laid down to go to bed ,I could hear that my heartbeat was off- way quicker,and different than the usual rhythm.It sounded almost like the breathing of a sleeping person- dum-ta- thum, dum-ta- thum.
Finally, I got a papercut one evening and noticed that my blood was also different-it was more watery and a way darker color than it should be.This is when I decided I should finally see a doctor.What happened later that night convinced me that whatever was happening to me was beyond fixing.
I woke up in the middle of the night to a scraping sound somewhere in my room.I frantically looked until I saw it ,in the right corner of my ceiling - two dark orange lights staring right at me.Thanks to the streetlight shining through my window I could make out the rest of it too,though god do I wish that the light was out that evening. The face was human shaped , though it had no mouth or nose.Its skin was pitch black, like a shadow, and smooth leathery like a snake. It had four long limbs,each much longer than its shriveled torso and ending in a large hand with spindly, long fingers.It was hanging there, sticking to the wall and ceiling like a spider. I couldn’t move,I couldn’t even breathe as it crawled its way to the spot on the ceiling right over my bed.The springs of my mattress gave a loud creak when it dropped down ,bringing those hellish orange spheres right over my face. I thought it would kill me, rip me into pieces to finish what it had started in that dark room a few weeks ago. Instead,it laid its head down onto my chest.,pressing against my skin.
The creature… purred, a sound of unmistakable affection and satisfaction. It then reached for the window, opened it and slithered out into the night.
I haven’t slept the last few days. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and see it again,standing there, watching me.What is bothering me the most, though, is that when it pressed against me I could also hear its heartbeat, and it sounded remarkably familiar.
dum-ta- thum, dum-ta- thum