He lifts me from the operating table and it feels odd, it feels odd to be held instead of being cut, but what his intentions are, I still don't know. He won't need me no more; I quietly hope his research concluded with something to put me down, finally and for good, and I snort when I realize how naive that is. Under the fluorescent lights he puts me in a barrow, carefully, almost gently. There is already something underneath me, hard and rectangular like a large box; a shovel joins me and we set off.
I haven't seen the outside world for months. Or years. Or decades. Who could tell? It's dark and I feel a cold drizzle on my face, more of a mist than an actual rain. Wherever we're headed, the path is uneven; every wiggle of the barrow sends an explosion of pain to my stitched wounds. He carries a flashlight and I slowly turn my head sideways, trying to make out anything in this damp, chilly night.
Uneven shapes start to poke out of the ground. They look like teeth, large, crumbled teeth, each stuck separately deep in the wet soil, but no, those aren't teeth, those are some old gravestones and if I still had hands, I'd bury my face in them for not having guessed it all earlier.
I wait while he digs. He's struggling, but it's not his first grave. The drizzle is like a touch of a drowned lover, as soft as icy on my forehead and my cheeks.
He doesn't say anything as he moves me onto wet grass of the asylum's old cemetery. The box lands next to me with a creak; it's a makeshift coffin, of course it is, but disturbingly small even for a cripple that I became. /To be continued
#creepy #story #igwriters #writersofig #storytelling #amwriting #creepypasta #horror #writer #author #weirdtales #queenofnothing #drawing #blackandwhite #spilledink #scary #depressing #peoplescreatives #sketch #eerie #weirdfiction #instawrite #bookstagram #writersofinstagram #writing #horrorgram #art #creative #dark #madness