A low whisper and stale breath tickled Gladys Sing’s ear awakening her. She jumped, trying to escape bindings that held her tight, but her arms and legs didn’t work. She tried again but to no avail. Heart racing, she tried to scream. Her mouth wouldn’t open. The whispering wouldn’t stop.
Gladys strained to open her eyes. She had to see the whispering thing. Had to know what it was. She struggled to will her eyes open. They wouldn’t open.
Something cut her. She could feel foul claws digging into her stomach. The pain was unbearable. She couldn’t stop it; couldn’t escape it. She felt liquid on her stomach. She felt a soft tongue lapping at the liquid where the claws had violated her.
The whisper grew louder. She understood the monster. It said “stat.” The clawing, the clawing, the clawing grew more intense. It couldn’t be stopped.
An intense white light filtered through Gladys’ closed eyelids. Then all went black. Later, the doctor informed her husband that Gladys had died during the operation; her husband tried not to focus on the blotchy red spots that Dr. Kole tongued from his lips each time he spoke.