He trembled behind the corner of the street. His arms felt clammy and cold. He could feel the damp puddles soak through his thin shoes as he struggled to hold himself together.

Boom.


The heavy thud shook his chest and he closed his eyes and covered his mouth. Please don’t… Please don’t…


Boom.


He could hear the pavement cracking softly. The soft scrap of dry cotton against the ground. The heavy click of iron-wood as it tapped the ground. He swallowed deeply and glanced around the corner and found himself staring straight into the burning red eye of the ‘Doctor’.

A scream burst from his mouth as the massive hands of the ‘Doctor’ gripped him tightly, lifting him into the air. The dead, glowing eyes of the Doctor examined him slowly before a deep hum echoed past the mask.

“…S…I…C…K…”

“No! No, I’m… I’m not sick! Please! I’m fine!”

The ‘Doctor’ stared at him, unflinching and unwavering and he could feel tears running down his face, “Please… I’m… I’m fine! You… You don’t need to do anything! J-Just let me go! I’ll give you a-anything! M-Money? Food? W-what do you want?”

“…” The ‘Doctor’ remained silent as one hand slowly shifted lower and gripped at its engorged, bloated stomach; it was such an unnatural sight, like some sort of unnatural, cancerous growth that physically weighed the ‘Doctor’ down.

A heavy, muffled sloshing emanated from within the ‘Doctor’s gut that sent shivers down his spine, “No… please… I’ll give you any… E-everything…”

“…S…I…C…K…”

“No…”

“Q…U…A…R…A…N…T…I…N…E…”

“Please! N-”

His voice was cut off as the ‘Doctor’ shoved him into its maw and slowly began to swallow.

*

He could feel the sickness. A foul, stinking miasma that soaked every part of this god-forsaken city.

No… not forsaken. Never forsaken.

He hummed softly as he dragged himself through the streets. His body felt heavy and cold. His stomach was filled with disease and pestilence and he still walked, feeling the rock crack below him.

Hymns echoed in his mind. Prayers were sung in his heart. The plague would end and they would all be joyous once more.

He paused as he felt a chill run over his body. An echo of disgust and dirt… He could see a girl out of the corner of his eye. Tiny. A child carrying a loaf of soaked bread…

Infected. Diseased. Revolting.

He twisted his body and began to drag himself after the child. The time of singing was not yet here. For now, he had to continue onward; to continue to eat and protect everyone… Even from themselves.


*

It's been a while since I did a "description story".
Feels good to do one again.

Hope you guys enjoy the spooks.

Until the next.
S.V.

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