Sickness

Where are they taking me? Perhaps to a hospital, I do feel sickly. That smell, is the furnace running? Ah, a door, finally to a restful place. Good food, soft bed, medicine, I do hope they hurry. What? This room, this horror, littering the floor, pale, dying. Bodies everywhere, why, why am I here? I'm only sick not dying. I'll feel better I promise! Please! Don't leave me, not here, I need food, please! I won't get anyone else sick. No! No! Don't, please! I don't want to be left in here, I'm not a corpse. They left me. It's so cold in here, the bodies, living and dead.

I don't want to die, not here, not this. Perhaps I can escape, leave this unimaginable horror of horrors. Yes! I can move my arms. I, I'm crawling across pale corpses, some possibly alive, some not. I scratch and drag myself to the double doors hoping for escape, but soon realize even if I do get to them I wouldn't be able to reach the handle. (cough) (cough) I'm feeling worse, maybe I am dying or perhaps this is a nightmare and I will wake from it. I see only one option: the furnace. If I am to die it will be quick compared to the slow agonizing torture of cold corpses rotting around me. If it a dream I will be burnt awake and I will be alive and safe. This is a chance I am willing to take, I pull my ailing body to the miniature portal of Hell, use any bit of strength still with me and pull myself level with it. I stop and pray silently and then cast myself into the fiery chasm.

Please God, let it be a dream.