Sharp fingernail-needles, isolated on a petite desk, in the corner of a sterile white room.
My nose blistered and bled on the cotton sheet I was wrapped in.
It itched.
The disease had gotten worse.
I wanted to scratch, but I couldn't until the doctor came and "cured" me.
I was getting a special dose today.
"The doctor will see you now," he said in third person shutting the door.
He unstrapped me and hurdled the needle towards my shoulder.
I panicked and kicked it away plunging the syringe into his leg.
"You're too contagious to live," he screamed, crashing to the floor.
It was a lethal injection.
YOU ARE READING
The Hundred Word Horror Show
HorrorA collection of grim poetry and micro-fiction written in no more than 100 words awaits you with Ronaldo Katwaroo's collection "The Hundred Word Horror Show." Grab your popcorn. Make sure to have your tickets ready. And enjoy the horror show! Just pr...
