I like my job. That's a safe, acceptable thing to say, like a normal person. What you can't say is, "I quite like sticking knives in people".
Slicing people open and getting my hands wet and red is my job.
Things that supposedly bother people don't faze me. When a patient crashes, other people panic. I smile behind my mask and keep working. See, it takes a lot to throw me off my game.
It was a routine surgery. A little beneath, really. Appendix removal. A cake walk.
My first clue that things weren't normal was the very first incision. The skin felt wrong. Rubbery. I got the impression I was operating on a cadaver, or a dummy. It was like the room glitched around me, and I was back at school, practising.
When I found it, the appendix was sort of... gleaming. "Did you... did you see that?" I asked the nurse.
"See what?" Her eyes looked blank.
I shook my head and tried again, but this time it moved.
"Tell me you saw that!" I said.
Her brow furrowed. I do get that odd look from people from time to time, but I was sure this time that I hadn't come close to giving myself away. Something really weird was going on.
I tried again, it moved again, and I nicked something else. I didn't stop. I kept going after it, chop chop chopping in my feverish chase around the patient's abdomen.
"Doctor... I mean..." I glared at the offending colleague, hardly pausing in my work.
"We're losing him," someone said, and I'm sure they were talking about the patient.
They did their best to save him, but it wasn't good enough. My best might have been, but I've been told I've a tendency to fixate on the wrong things, and I was absolutely determined that that freakish appendix wasn't slipping away from me.
In the aftermath, up to my elbows in guts, something dawned on me. This thing wasn't human.
This inquiry is a waste of time. I didn't kill a person. And I know the records show that it was a standard appendix removal, but it wasn't. You have to believe me.
+
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Word count, excluding note: 366
Submitted on 2nd June at 23.27
*Quick Author's Note*
First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent. Might get the cast of the MCU to come to my nephew's birthday party.
If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!
A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 154 day streak since 1st January.
Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!
The story behind the story: Thanks to Weird Al for the title inspiration. This is the second psycho doc story I've done, but beyond that they aren't linked. (The other one was about a brain surgeon.) Here it is!
Leave a comment: Please do leave me a comment. It makes it easier for me to reciprocate the read. I know I am behind on reads, but doing my best to catch up - bear with me!
Thank you
Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed! 😁
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from L.C. Schäfer and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Last Bullet
The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic tang of fear. Sergeant Jack Malone lay low behind a crumbling wall, his heart pounding in sync with the sporadic bursts of gunfire echoing through the war-torn city. He wiped sweat from his brow, his mind racing as he checked his rifle, counting the precious few bullets left in his clip. It had been days since they were cut off from the main unit, surviving on dwindling rations and sheer determination.
By Ekombe hau2 days ago in Fiction
Validation Is Not An Outside Thing
Hey Baby, Can we start by taking a second to celebrate the fact that you are here today? Yes! For some of us, it’s a small victory on life that we get to claim every time we wake up. You and I both know we haven’t always wanted to be here. Choosing to stay is a victory. So, congratulations but also thank you! If you are anything like me at your age, I know you are rolling your eyes, right now. But give me a second. It’s a little sappy—I’m aware—but I believe that at every point in life, we all have something to contribute. It doesn’t have to be huge. It can be a simple word to a person who needs to hear it at that very moment. So there you go.
By Lily Séjor5 days ago in Pride
Comments (6)
Impressive work, keep going strong!
And, there's another surgeon I never want to me.
This is an interesting continuation, LC... I wonder where you will take this now? Whether it is Fantasy, Horror, or Psychological, there's a lot of directions you can go now!
I really liked this one. Spooky and unsettling. Great job!
well someone is falsifying records... or someone else shouldnt be practicing. Hard to tell, if you're him I guess.
Stupid appendix! Remind me again why I always say no thanks after a surgery consult? This story does for surgeons what A Little Shop of Horrors did for dentists. Great fun as always, LC!