Pricilla

Note: This one gets a little gory with a lot of allusions to death, so if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, feel free to skip over this one!

Additionally, I wrote this a couple of months ago, and when copying it into the publishing center, I lost a lot of what was italicized. I caught some of it, and could've been more thorough, but honestly, I didn't feel like it. So if something sticks out to you as needing italicization, it probably had it lol 

The rough cement tickled my fingers as I dragged my hand along the grooves in the grey brick wall. The hall seemed to go on forever. I gazed down as I walked, the speckled blue flooring vaguely reflecting my form. At least, I thought it was blue. Above me, white LEDs buzzed and flickered, washing the hall in a stifled grey. Somewhere unknown, a clock was pacing my walk with a soft tick, tick, tick.

Despite my bland surroundings, I enjoyed myself, merrily counting the stormy bricks as I passed them. I was so involved in this work that I nearly missed a doorway, the first interruption in the endless walls. Stopping short, I peered in. Through the doorway, I saw a small room, barely larger than my own, and devoid of furniture. It had rough grey walls and the same bluish tiles as the hall, nowhere near as interesting as I’d hoped. There was one thing that caught my attention, though; the wall opposite me was covered corner to corner in large, long, gleaming silver boxes. Each box had a latch and a keyhole, so I assumed their contents had to be valuable. My curiosity carried me towards the boxes, tentatively tapping the keyhole. Tick, tick, tick. Above me, one of the boxes shot out of the wall, crashing into the floor behind me with a loud clanging. I flinched, startled, but quickly recovered, approaching the mischievous box.

A small key was taped to the top, so naturally, I placed it in the lock; whatever was in this box clearly wanted to be seen. The door swung open with ease, revealing what looked like another box, but I knew what to do. Excitedly, I hooked my fingers into the side and pulled. The smaller box, or rather, drawer, rolled out with a soft rattling, finally revealing its contents. A body bag.

“Oh, boo.” I groaned. All that excitement for nothing! Determined to find anything fun, I glanced at the tag. The material was yellowed and stained, but the name was written clearly in a flowery font: Pricilla.

“Poor Pricilla!” I gasped, placing a hand on the bag. It crinkled and fell at my touch. Seeing this, I giggled. “Oh, poor Pricilla, poor poor Pricilla!” I was cackling now, repeating my chant as I danced about the room, circling the box, and when the clock grew louder, I barely noticed. Tick, tick, tick.

Delighting in my song and dance, I hopped from the doorway, spinning and shouting and howling with joy. Suddenly, an awful scraping noise filled the air. I turned to the source and froze. A peppy-looking woman stepped towards me briskly, dragging a gnarled hand across the wall, carving deep slash marks as she went. Although she seemed impossibly far, the sound of her sharp heel hitting the cold floor filled the endless halls, surrounding me. Tick, tick, tick. Her short, jet-black hair was pushed from her face by an outdated nurse’s cap, the red cross serving as the only color against her stark white uniform and pale, pallid skin. She didn’t look particularly elderly, but everything about her felt ancient.

The scratching only got louder, the horrible screeching noise filling my ears until I could swear I was vibrating. Every fiber of my being told me to run, to bolt back down the hall and pray there was something to return to. Yet I stood, frozen, as the Nurse approached. As she grew closer, I noticed her limbs seemed unusually long and thin. No, I thought, They’re growing. The realization jump-started my body, flinging me around, my legs catapulted me away from her. My heart raced, pounding like a drum in near-perfect time with her quickening steps. Tick, tick, tick, tick. The once familiar hall flew past in a blur of grey and white and grey and white, and although I knew there was nothing in the hall, suddenly there were doors, doors, doors, doors, black plain doors rattling in their hinges as I raced past. I knew not to open them, because they were her doors.

The rubber soles under me were too much for the linoleum floor, and my foot slipped behind me, then my leg, and with a cry, I slammed into the ground with a loud crack. The impact settled in my bones and terror seeped into my gut. Everything had gone silent. Shakily, I lifted myself up and slowly, slowly turned. The Nurse stood inches away, her arm gripping the ceiling with ease, large, grotesque hands with yellowed nails puncturing the plaster. The other hand lay relaxed at her side, bony fingertips grazing the floor. She smiled, a wide, saccharine smile with glinting white teeth between sharply painted red lips. Eyes wide, I tried to back away on my hands, stumbling over my own wrists and ankles. The arm at her side started towards me, moving in a fast, light arc. The limb twisted and crackled as she snatched my torso and lifted me, gripping my body with preternaturally controlled strength.

Each finger pressed into me like tight ropes and I could feel my body rejecting the grip, my lungs screaming for air and my limbs flailing, pushing, kicking, anything to get out. I was above her now, and her bright eyes bored coldly into mine, the smile plastered on her face never quite reaching the icy stare. She clicked her tongue at me and opened her mouth, her voice dripping with honey and vitriol.

“Now dear, it’s far too late to be out. You know this, yes?” I nodded meekly, pressing my hand to my chest. I could feel my heart hammering beneath my palm, pumping blood into me, flushing me with red. The Nurse faltered, furrowing her brow. She tore her hand from the ceiling, tapping my chest. She tilted her head. “Oh my, where did you get that?”

I yelped at the question, my brain racing, trying to force an answer. An excuse. She can’t know. This is mine. She sighed, raising her hand above her head once more, the pristine uniform barely disguising the pained tearing and twisting of the muscles in her shoulder. Her pointer finger extended as the rest of her hand curled into a gnarled fist. I screamed, writhing, begging her to let me go. She pouted, lowering me slightly, and every part of me let out a sigh of relief.

“Why can’t it ever be easy?” she whined, before launching me in the air and stabbing her finger straight through my chest with a loud squelch. Blood spurted from my mouth and torso, splattering her renewed grin. She adjusted her hand, twisting as my body froze and fell limp, my heart skewered just behind me on her nail. A calm overtook me, and a dazed smile threatened the corners of my mouth. I hung there as she carried me back to the doorway, her steps sounding tinny and far away. Tick. Tick. Tick. Though my vision was fuzzy, I saw the silver box just where I’d left it, but the bag was now open, revealing its empty interior. The Nurse delicately slipped the heart off her finger and placed it aside, her arms returning to normal size. I fell from her hand, slumping into the box. The Nurse wiped her hands on her skirt, grimacing at the red stains. She peered over the edge of the box and waved.

“Goodnight, dear. I hope you had fun!” She slammed me back into the box and my eyes snapped open. I was lying on my back in my room, just next to my disheveled bed. The rusty old fan whirred above me, its uneven blades filling the room with a soft tick, tick, tick.

Additional Note Strategically Placed To Avoid Spoilers: This was written as an assignment in a 'Dream Narratives' unit, so I specifically had to end it with "and it was aaaaaallll a dreamm ooooo" I don't love it, but c'est la vie, you know? Lot of excuses on this one teehee