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A Dead Hospital - Flash Fiction
|by Ananya S Guha|
He mumbled something. He was in the hospital bed. He remembered vaguely a light, then darkness.
The hospital was like a grave yard. In fact it was dead. How can that be in fact people come to a hospital to die. But how can it be dead?
The doctor told him : '' It is a dead hospital''. But he wasn't dead he thought. He woke up in horror. He was a living person in a dead hospital.
The nurse a tall bony looking creature came with an instrument and some handful of medicines. It was the same instrument, he muttered to himself, that was used to kill him.
But he had come to a dead hospital. There was no wailing. All were dead, it was a dead hospital.
He slept, after the instrument banged like fire on his head. He slept peacefully after that. He dreamt he was alive, in a dead hospital host to a graveyard.
The morning shutters were opened. The sun glistened and he could see a stretch of pale light. As the day progressed, the light was muted, slowly in an enveloping darkness. He crawled out of bed, down the stairs, into the reception.
Yes. It was a dead hospital, mummified into gloom. It was an ancient preserve of history of a hundred years back. A hospital which was now a museum of death. But who came with the medicines?
I came a voice said.
I came to rescue you from this good- and-evil, darkness-light. Now you are in darkness. You will soon see light. He screamed. He yelled. No mumble, only screaming, shouting. Leave me he said. Leave me he wept.
They stared at him, with sunken hollow eyes. We are the dead men they laughed. Their laughter reverberated through his blood and bones. We died a century back, and you are living! They snickered.
The doctor bent over his body. He died just about an hour ago, he proclaimed sullenly.
But he knew he was not dead. He was in a dead hospital. He was alive, yes alive.
Death, negates death.
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