Young Writers Society

Finally...here's the next chapter.

It took me ages to finish, polish and publish this but I'm certain you'll enjoy it. It was now having some sort of romance in it - somehow - so better read it...hurry up! And don't, don't ever, forget to critique it afterward, alright?

PHANTASM

Chapter Two: Haunting: Part One:

I kept on fidgeting as I drove past the accident site – just alongside the detouring area. It was so crowded with policemen, detectives and investigators, working all together, and meddlers and quidnuncs, interfering. The only things I saw were the road spotted with bloods and – just a little glimpse – the motorcycle under the ten-wheeler truck. So horrible…

The time came for us to finally arrive at the hospital. I was very much certain that this wasn’t any ordinary place. This was one of the favorite haunts of my beneficiaries, together with all those old establishments, accident sites and of course, cemeteries.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be just fine.” Rose told me as we headed to the receptionist.

I nodded, although I was very much positive that Ken will be just fine and so wasn’t worried at all. But then I caught myself trembling. My heart had also been beating faster – I smirked.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, sir,” said the receptionist. I was taken aback – I nearly forgot time. Just driving alone had consumed most of my morning. I looked at my silver wristwatch and figured out that it was half past twelve. No doubt my stomach growled as the omelet hours ago seemed to fade away, totally.

“Hey, Anna, good noon,” Rose greeted, “My friend, ya know, Kenneth de la Cruz had just been brought here. Had a car accident…” She continued to inquire in a frenzied manner that Anna, the receptionist, could barely say a word, “…traffic ‘cause of an accident – I wonder why there’s so many – And so, I hope it’s not yet too late – he’s fine, no doubt…

Rose usually found it hard to keep her mouth shut. She was very long-winded – got lots of things to tell though not necessary. Anyway, the receptionist looked familiar to me. Her tan complexion and fragmented white scar on the right cheek would never be forgotten. I met her when I went to Rose’s house; she was her neighbor.

I barely listened to Rose, until – “Though I’ve already dumped him, can’t stop myself from having qualms…”

I wasn’t informed about that matter and I felt very alarmed – if ever there was one happening regarding my best buds that must be put into account, it was a breakup.

“Room Three ‘o one,” said the receptionist finally, handing us Visitor’s Sheets.

Ken had been given his own ward; I wonder if he was doing well. After I finished filling in the form, Rose grabbed me on my elbow and we headed to the room.

“So, you, two, broke,” I asked her in a come-on-why-didn’t-you-tell-me sort of voice, “Since when?”

She grimaced, “Better hurry up,” bolting out of the elevator. I sighed – anyway, I got more important matters to bear on – and followed her.

As I moved along the hospital corridors, I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. At the same time, I could feel my hands and the back of my neck covered in horripilation. I continued to walk normally until someone ice-cold passed my back. I shivered more, as if my entire body was now drenched with melted hail. I looked over my shoulder but saw nothing, just a poorly-lit corridor with doors at either side. I took a deep breath and continued to advance forward.

We reached the room at the halfway point of the T-shaped corridor, near the intensive care units of the third floor. Dead air swept over the entire ward, except for the bleeping sounds of the vital sign and cardiac monitors. I could see Ken in bad shape, lying unconscious on the recovery bed. His hands, feet, neck and even head were wrapped with white bandages and casts that blended with the white hospital dress which made him looked like a mummy with tubes attached on his respective body parts, from the olive green tanks and apparatuses. Mary, his sister, was there, probably to keep an eye on him and to scamper for a doctor if something went wrong. She was sitting on the couch with her eyes bulging – seemed like it had only been now that she stopped crying.

“Oh, our sympathies,” greeted Rose, her bittersweet eyes set on Ken, “Mind if we intrude?”

“Certainly,” nodded Mary, “’been here for ages. Glad you two came. I thought you both met an accident too.” She closed the door for us as we headed to see Ken.

“Just, the traffic,” said Rose, “That’s why I hate living in a city. By the way, where’re Aunt Lucy and Uncle Karl?”

“Oh, they – on a business trip, somewhere in Philippines,” answered Mary – they were her and Ken’s parents. “I’ve already informed them. So, maybe by tomorrow, or the next day – but I hope not, anyway it’s not that far – they’ll be here.”

“Well then, if that’s so, I’ll be glad to accompany you ‘til then,” said Rose.

“Really?” said Mary. Rose nodded, “Thanks!”

There was silence as we look at Ken in doldrums. He was really pitiful.

I heaved a deep sigh, “I feel very sorry. I just hope for a fast recovery,” and told them with a sullen look. “So, he’s been conscious, hasn’t he?”

Mary bowed her head, “Unfortunately, not yet.”

“But how come –” said Rose all at once, but, luckily, was cut in – she might start talking nonsense for ages again. At any rate, it seemed we had been thinking the same thing.

“I did ask the nurse,” said Mary, “I can’t even hold a phone, so worried stiff.”

My mind had been flooded with so many inquiries regarding the accident and wanted to burst them out – question them – but as I caught a sight of the fruits atop the side table, I was halted; I could sense my stomach rumbling and growling, “I – er – wanna ask if there’s a cafeteria in ‘ere?”

“Oh, yeah, there is,” said Mary, “It’s just down there. Take the staircase near the comfort rooms on the left and there it is, on the first floor.”

“Thanks. So, who’s hungry?” I asked them, looking past Rose then to Mary.

“I just finished,” answered Mary. “Go on,” she told Rose, who seemed up for grabs; uncertain probably because of feeling hungry but not wanting to leave the room, “I – er – ”

“It’s alright,” I told her, “I’ll just order up for you.”

“Thanks,” she said, letting herself fall on the couch.

“So, still on the diet huh?” I said, “Guess veggies may do”

“Actually,” said Mary, “Only vegetables are available and no other options, health center eh?”

“Indeed?” I sighed, “Well then, no choice. Veggies for empty stomachs.”

Mary laughed as I left the room, feeling much mowed down. My stomach was empty and I was supposed to eat an appetizer. I wanted to leave this center and go, find better food options, but was hindered by the fact that I was here for another reason.

As I wandered along the corridors alone, I had a great sense of foreboding. All too soon, I would be encountering new spine-chilling spooks – benevolent apparitions, cast-away ghosts and kissed-goodbye phantasms. I gasped and fought my way down to the staircase.

Shortly then, as I was halfway to the staircase, I felt something enigmatic and beyond comprehension behind me. I could feel intense coldness from head to toe that I never felt before. And something out-of-the-ordinary force was draining my strength. Soon, the entire hallway seemed to wheel around as I was in great vertigo, nearly fainting.

I was on all-fours when everything went back to normal. I stood up immediately, made an about-face and wished I hadn’t.

I saw an ethereal being I had never seen before. It seemed like a black shadow of a hooded figure that glided gently… it could be Grim Reaper!

I was panting so hard. “But where’s the scythe?” I thought stupidly – anyway I did believe it didn’t have a scythe at all – and was overly spooked. I stood still on the ground, not knowing what to do. My eyes were fixed on the stranger and soon, an extraordinary impulse forced me to follow it.

I stepped nervously, still breathing fast and feeling dizzy. And on my second step, something mind-boggling made me jumped up from my feet and felt very, very scared – which took ages for me to feel. The ethereal being, or Grim Reaper, transformed into a mind-blowing one. It suddenly had thousands of tiny glowing wings. And what was worst: its body was covered entirely by almost-microscopic eyes and tongue!

After a while, I realized that the stranger in front of me was Azrael, the archangel of death. I had been familiar to his physical feature after my long searches about the personifications of death through books and internets long ago. And I never thought that he was really real, that he was right in front of me.

My face was covered in cold sweats, and were my hands, as I was brought back to my senses. The strange being – Grim Reaper or Azrael, whoever it was – was now gone. I gasped and felt like going away but just couldn’t. I needed to follow that creature and figure out who was dying, how Azrael plug his or her life and plead him if possible.

After a dozen toss-ups, I had decided to follow him. I still remembered him disappearing in front of the double-door entry which got the most space. It was just two rooms after Ken’s ward and no doubt, it was heading to the intensive care units.

I walked limply – my feet seemed to hinder me and my heart had been beating abnormally. Finally, I reached the doors and went inside, disregarding the visiting rules posted on the door. Inside were little wards or units built with mirrors and doors and each had single in-critical-condition patients. I searched for the respective ward, passing by people with their noses pressed on the windows – probably the loved ones of the patients inside – until I found the right ward.

Two people had tears bursting out of their red, weary eyes – which had shadows underneath them – and were looking through the window. Inside were nurses and a doctor, holding a defibrillator and reviving the patient. And to prove that it was the right ward, the angel of death was there, back to its shadowy figure and was standing – or better yet, floating – right on the top of the patient’s head.

As I looked at the face of the patient, I was bowled over with the unusual feeling erupting from my chest. Though she looked pitiful, she was really gorgeous. I didn’t know if it was just pity I was feeling, but I really felt very emotional – as if wanting to resort into tears or… die in behalf of her. Was I just being sympathetic? Or was it beyond sympathy?

The two blue people looked at me in low-spirited bewilderment. Then, I realized that I, too, had tears.

The only thing I hoped for – to have a valid explanation for feeling grief-stricken to the person I don’t even know – was for them to see what I was seeing. The angel of death was right there and there was no way escaping. It was the end of the earthly life of their loved one.

“Er – my heartfelt sympathy,” I told them, quite abashed, running out of words, “I – er – am her friend.”

I felt like hanging by a thread with the way I came up with those words. All at once, the number of my friends increased by one. In any case, my stupid lie seemed to work. They stopped gazing at me with their suspicious looks and continued to shed tears.

On the spur of the moment, the angel of death disappeared, leaving behind tiny star-like sparks. And the doctor came to a halt as the cardiac monitor flashed uneven gradient lines to which, a while ago, was a horizontal one.

An air of great joy and relief swept over. There were sweet beams and tears of joy. And I just found myself hugging the two strangers in a cheerful spirit.