Creepypasta Collection

Born Dead

On my sixteenth birthday, just after I had blown out the candles on a fairy cake, my mother told me that I was born dead.

"I'm so happy that you made it," she said.

I pulled the fork out of my mouth.

"What?"

"Oh," she said. "I guess we never told you. If not for aunt Kirah you wouldn't even have made it through your first day."

Aunt Kirah. Nurse Kirah.

My mother's contractions started in her lunch break, two months early. She was at the hospital twenty minutes later and another hour after that she pushed my head out of her body.

Like most babies, I didn't breathe. The doctor gave me a light slap, like for all babies. Another light slap, like for some babies. Then a stronger slap.

At that point my mother started screaming. A thick stream of blood ran out of her lower body. The doctor handed me over to a young nurse who tried another slap and then quickly passed me on to a 24 year old nurse. Nurse Kirah.

Kirah wrapped her mouth around mine and blew air into my nose. She used two of her fingers to quickly massage my chest. She paused, blew another gust of air into my lungs and kept massaging. Over and over again.

My mother stopped screaming. They managed to stop her bleeding too.

They told nurse Kirah to stop the cpr. They said it was hopeless. The doctor tried to pull her hand away from my small and still chest. When that didn't succeed he declared me dead.

Two days after my sixteenth birthday I met Kirah again. To me she had always been aunt Kirah, never nurse Kirah.

"The world just disappeared," she said. "It was like there was only you and me and my whole life seemed to have led to that moment."

She took a bite of the fairy cake and smiled.

"It's strange, but I don't even remember moving my fingers or giving you mouth-to-mouth. I just wanted to save you and in that moment nothing else mattered, not even my own life. I just knew you would live."

"Even when everyone told you to stop?"

Kirah nodded.

"Even then. I knew that you would live and I would have done anything just to make you take that first breath."

"Thank you."

"It's okay. I'm happy that I did. Make sure you bring good to the world."

Three days after my sixteenth birthday I announced to my parents that I would become a nurse. By the time I turned seventeen they had convinced me to become a doctor instead.

Studying medicine was the most difficult time of my life – or at least the most difficult time that I remember.

Before I gave them a tour of the grounds my parents had never even entered a lecture hall. They had supported me in school, but universit was different and when my trouble with deadlines and stacks of learn-this-by-heart sheets started they didn't know how to help.

Aunt Kirah did know. She came and showed me the best books. She taught me mnemonics for the most important bones and muscles. She even taught me how to take proper notes and where to sit in the lecture hall – not in the first two or three rows so you don't get picked on, but in the first third of the hall.

"The ones in the back," Kirah said, "Are either shy or don't want to listen. As a doctor you shouldn't be shy and as a smart girl you should want to listen. It's not cool to sit in the back. It's the seats of those that want to chat and gossip or sleep. It's the seats of those that want to fail and it's not cool to fail."