I used the CNN headlines: Nigerian kids killed as witches, Trapped miners building shrine, Criminal probe targets hospital where 5 newborns died in fire
So here is my very random, kinda disturbing short short story.
Johnathon woke up in a hospital room and had no idea how he got there. His ears were ringing, his lip felt chapped and his throat was dry. What had put him in this condition? He tried to remember the last thing he remembered before blacking out. And then, the realization hit him and caused to suddenly seize up in his bed and try to find an escape route. Unfortunately, the nurse was already coming in.
"Look at you awake and alert. How are you feeling, dear?" she said.
Johnathon stared at her for a second before mumbling, "Fine, good, perfect so I need to go now thanks."
The nurse tilted her head back and laughed. Her ruby red lipstick made a chill go up Johnathon's spine. Blood, he thought.
A flash of blood was the last thing he remembered seeing. Johnathon had been dabbling with dark magic, things he knew he should have stayed out of but didn't.
The nurse began flipping through charts on the wall and scribbling something down that Johnathon couldn't read. Would she believe him if he told her his story? Did she know how he got here and what he had been doing?
"There haven't been any visitors for you. Do you have any family?" she said, turning around.
"Um no kind of. Where am I?"
"In Central City Hospital. You don't know that? Are you from here?"
Johnathon shook his head. He had taken over an abandoned store in the next town for his magical experiments, away from his nosy family and friends. He couldn't risk anyone finding out and getting suspicious. They didn't understand why Johnathon was so unhappy, so unfulfilled with his life. Discovering dark magic was the perfect way for Johnathon to get what he most desired, something to make him special, respected and obeyed. He thought he could handle it. He could handle AP Chemistry and modern science was only a few steps behind alchemy anyhow.
Boy, was he wrong. What he thought would simply give him greater powers instead gave him very powerful stalkers-a whole coven of witch stalkers, to be precise. He had duped the witches with some shady deals to get some highly sought after spells and ingredients, thinking that they were too stupid to notice. Johnathon was in the game to win, not share. And now they were after him. They didn't care that he was a human. They didn't care that he was only 14.
Johnathon woke up in a hospital room and had no idea how he got there. His ears were ringing, his lip felt chapped and his throat was dry. What had put him in this condition? He tried to remember the last thing he remembered before blacking out. And then, the realization hit him and caused to suddenly seize up in his bed and try to find an escape route. Unfortunately, the nurse was already coming in.
"Look at you awake and alert. How are you feeling, dear?" she said.
Johnathon stared at her for a second before mumbling, "Fine, good, perfect so I need to go now thanks."
The nurse tilted her head back and laughed. Her ruby red lipstick made a chill go up Johnathon's spine. Blood, he thought.
A flash of blood was the last thing he remembered seeing. Johnathon had been dabbling with dark magic, things he knew he should have stayed out of but didn't.
The nurse began flipping through charts on the wall and scribbling something down that Johnathon couldn't read. Would she believe him if he told her his story? Did she know how he got here and what he had been doing?
"There haven't been any visitors for you. Do you have any family?" she said, turning around.
"Um no kind of. Where am I?"
"In Central City Hospital. You don't know that? Are you from here?"
Johnathon shook his head. He had taken over an abandoned store in the next town for his magical experiments, away from his nosy family and friends. He couldn't risk anyone finding out and getting suspicious. They didn't understand why Johnathon was so unhappy, so unfulfilled with his life. Discovering dark magic was the perfect way for Johnathon to get what he most desired, something to make him special, respected and obeyed. He thought he could handle it. He could handle AP Chemistry and modern science was only a few steps behind alchemy anyhow.
Boy, was he wrong. What he thought would simply give him greater powers instead gave him very powerful stalkers-a whole coven of witch stalkers, to be precise. He had duped the witches with some shady deals to get some highly sought after spells and ingredients, thinking that they were too stupid to notice. Johnathon was in the game to win, not share. And now they were after him. They didn't care that he was a human. They didn't care that he was only 14.
"How did I get here? Who found me?" he asked, taking a sip of water from the glass on the bedside tray. He tried to sound normal, no hint of fear in his voice.
"Apparently you collapsed in the heat on Birch Avenue. You had no ID, no nothing. No one seemed to know ya, but there were some people around and one lady was nice enough to call 911."
The nurse smiled and tightened her slick bun.
So no one saw me doing anything. No one saw my stuff. Good. No one saw them? Johnathon thought. Four old tall women with paper-white complexion, hawk-shaped noses, and crows tucked into their hats?
He had to atleast warn the nurse to not let anyone in, no visitors at all. The witches were shapeshifters after all and could disguise themselves to try to get access to him. He couldn't go anywhere on this bed. Johnathon wasn't used to feeling this powerless, being held against his will. He was trapped.
"Listen, this is going to sound crazy, but I really need you to do me a favor," he said. The nurse walked closer, her forehead wrinkling with concern.
"Of course, I'm here to help you. What is it?"
"No matter what, don't let anyone into my room. No visitors or anything, please. It's extremely important. There may be some person claiming to be my mom or my dad, but don't listen to them. Unless I tell you."
Johnathon held a fixed stare, praying she'd agree.
"Johnathon, I am not sure what you are talking about, but I can assure you we follow the safety guidelines of the hospital protocol. We don't just let anyone in. Visitors have to show their ID and get approval at the front desk, don't worry. You need to take your meds and get some rest, okay? We'll need to contact your parents ASAP though. They must be worried sick!"
Johnathon groaned as the nurse grabbed a paper cup and proceeded to the sink.
She doesn't get it! Why doesn't she get it? She has to understand that they are after me! That's much worse than anything my parents need to know about.
His mind was so frazzled he couldn't remember the complete verses of any protection spells to help him. The witches could be outside this minute. They could be waiting for the nurse to leave and then kill him alone in this room and no one would even notice.
Suddenly, the sterile, white room began to look even more depressing to Johnathon. This was never how he envisioned things to end. Not at all.
"Johnathon?"
He looked up to see the nurse holding out a cup of water and two red cylinder pills in the palm of her hand.
"Come back down to Earth every once and a while, okay?" she said, grinning.
He reluctantly took the cup and popped the pills in his mouth. Taking a swig of water, Johnathon sat back in his pillow, trying to figure out his next move.
"I mean it, come back to Earth, because that's where mortals belong," her voice suddenly grating and metallic.
Johnathon's heart lurched, as he looked suddenly at the nurse who's grin was growing to the sides of her face.
"Should have known better than to double cross the Hex sisters, boy. Trying to get into where you clearly had no place with such ancient magic. Big mistake."
Johnathon's vision was beginning to cloud. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but the words came out in a slur.
"Hope you like the little concoction I made. It's our special recipe. One of the few you didn't actually steal from us."
The witch put out her hand to brush Johnathon's cheek, giggling at his recoiling from her touch. She waved her finger to pull the shades down on the window, flick the light switch off and then turned to exit the room.
In Johnathon's last blink, he thought he saw a little beak poke out of the witch's collar.
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My next prompt is to compose a square stanza like this awesome one I read by Lewis Carroll. Check this out!
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