Reads: 143  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 3

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Something seriously strange begins to occur after a regular blood donation.

Submitted: January 19, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 19, 2017





There was a big shortage of blood. The banks were running dry and the cry had gone out for donors, more donors, and I thought to myself, ‘Why not?’ And so I dutifully turned up at the donor station and gave all my details. No anonymous donations then!


The following day the phone call came. Could I go to my own doctor for more tests that day? An appointment had been made for me. All I had to do was to be there at the allocated time. I did think of not turning up at all; after all, it was a bit presumptuous for them to make the appointment – I could have had other plans. In the end I decided just to go along with it. What could be the harm?


The doctor did not say very much to me. Unusual, as he had been looking after my health since I was a baby. I guess doctors are only human and can have bad days too! Still, it wasn’t normal for things to be quite so strained between us.


I’ll make another appointment to see you in two days time,” he said.


What’s it for? Am I ill or something?” Two days seemed remarkably quick to be getting the results back in, previously it had been about ten days. Odd, but maybe it was just some quick little test.


Just checking a couple of things. Nothing to worry about!” He smiled as he showed me out of the door, but it was a false smile with no sincerity in it.


Two days later, back I was. My doctor had company, a man in a suit who I had never seen before. They both seemed to be studying the results that were displayed on the computer monitor. They seemed to find them very interesting although they meant absolutely nothing to me.


Sit down, sit down.....We’ll be with you in just a minute.”


I sat. I waited. I watched in silence as the man in the suit left the room without so much as glancing in my direction. He shut the door silently behind him and my doctor turned his attention towards me.


It seems that you have some unusual blood running through your veins, almost unique in its composition.” The Doc was obviously struggling to find the right words to say whatever he wanted to say.


Is it bad?” I asked, thinking I might as well make it easy for him to pass on any bad news.


Bad.......Not necessarily. Mr Engels has just gone to arrange your transport to a special.....ah....facility, where they will be able to carry out much more thorough testing than the usual path labs can offer. He’s assured me it will be a very comfortable experience and there might be some cash payment due to you for your co-operation.”


Mr Engels escorts me to a waiting car, one more luxurious than any I have ever travelled in before. The windows are tinted to such an extent I cannot actually see out of them and have no idea where we are heading. The sound system covers up Mr Engels silence so I do not notice his lack of conversation.


When the car draws to a halt and the door is opened for me, I find we are in an indoor car park. We could be anywhere. The lift, like the man, moves silently.


And what a room I’m shown to! A five-star hotel could not have a more luxurious room than this. There is even a computer provided for my own use, although when I log on to it I find the access to the internet is severely restricted. A bit strange not being able to access my usual social media sites but I’m willing to bury my anxieties for the sake of a taste of opulent living.


A group of people enter the room, talking amongst themselves. It is rather disconcerting, being discussed as though I’m not even there. Not one of them acknowledges me as a person. It’s a very odd feeling and I really want to pull them up on it; tell them to talk TO me not just about me -- but in the end I hold my tongue. Why should I care if they talk to me or not?


I pick up the odd word. Most mean nothing but I do hear ‘pure’ mentioned a couple of times. That’s a bit of a laugh, them applying that term to me, but obviously I’m not going to be enlightened any further as they all file out of the room again without so much as a glance in my direction.


A man brings me a meal. It’s not the sort of thing I’d normally eat, being all whole foods and vegetables and fruit. And what do I get to drink? Water! Bottles and bottles of it!


Any chance of a coffee?” I ask the man when he returns to remove my plates. "Or, better still, a beer?"


No answer, no response of any kind. Somehow this no longer surprises me. The whole experience is beginning to feel extremely bizarre and I think maybe it’s not worth whatever they’ll pay me. I’ve had enough of being prodded and probed and they’ve had more than enough of my blood. Bottles of it, for goodness sake! Is it any wonder I’m feeling kind of woozy?


I’m going to go. I’m just going to get up and walk out. The door is not that far away, if I can only get one foot to go in front of the other I can make it there, get away.


I am laying on some kind of slab. Hazy figures seem to be coming in and out of a view. I see a face that I recognize, someone familiar. Someone famous and powerful. If only I could figure out their name.


A perfect match....”


They are the final three words that I hear before my world turns black forever.

© Copyright 2018 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:








More Horror Short Stories