Demonic Medicine , livre ebook

4 Horsemen Publications, Inc. - Alexis Aurol , Erika Lance , Amy Coles , John Haas , Christopher Blinn , Axel Kohagen , James Harper , Lydia Elizabeth , Arthur Jackson , Julie Kathleen McNeely-Kirwan , Madison Estes , Wilson Paul , Devin Oldham , Jay Mendell , Ziaul Moid Khan , N.M. Brown , Rohmann Barisoff

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105 pages

English

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A spooky and sinister collection of original horror and dark humor from big names and talented newcomers!

What scares you most when you go to the doctor? Eighteen horror authors have come together to tell us what makes their skin crawl when they pick up a strange new bottle of pills from the pharmacist or hear the whirl of a dentist's maniacal drill while they're strapped to the chair. Try your best to keep the shadows at bay as you read these tales of blood, boils, scabs, and scars. This thrilling anthology is full of amusing and alarming anecdotes (and some antidotes) that will send more shivers down your spine than a chilled stethoscope on bare flesh.

Contributors include:

Jackson Arthur
Alexis Aurol
Rohmann Barisoff
Christopher Blinn
NM Brown
Amy Coles
Lydia McCann
Madison Estes
John Haas
James Harper
Julie Kathleen McNeely-Kirwan
Ziaul Moid Khan
Axel Kohagen
Erika Lance
Jay Mendell
Devin Oldham
Paul Wilson

Reader Beware: Some of these stories may stay with you after the book is closed and follow you straight to your next medical appointment!

Sujets

Fiction

Horror

Informations

Publié par	4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
Date de parution	15 octobre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781644506974
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Table o f Contents
In troduction
A Simple Brain Scan
Tea rs of Fire
The Haunted Curtains
Bells & Whistles
Good Medicine
Baby Shop
F resh Start
The Pa tent Trial
Rai nbow Rock
Brian the Brain
My Brothe r’s Keeper
M alpractice
Midnight at the Opal Publ ic Library
Noseblind
Your Obedien t Servant
Pa tient Zero
The Scan
Book Club Questions
Editor Bio

Demonic Medicine: Take You r Pills!
Copyright © 2022 4 Horsemen Publications, Inc. All rights r eserved.

4 Horsemen Publication s, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover by Valeri e Willis
Typesetting by S . Wilder
Editor S L Vargas
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used ficti tiously.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 22942652
Print: 978-1-644 50-998-2
Ebook: 978-1-644 50-697-4

In troduction
T here is very little difference between a hospital and a haunted house. “Now Beau,” you might say, “surely that’s hyperbole.” I’d counter that there’s a reason many horror stories take place in h ospitals.
There’s a certain heaviness to the air that can induce panic, especially when coupled with the fetid stench of antiseptic. Our sense of smell is inextricably tied to our memories, and who among us doesn’t recall hydrogen peroxide being poured over a scraped knee? Whether the walls are painted a sterile white or an institutional green, the labyrinthine corridors can seem endless. Every turn is a gamble. Will the hallway be empty, or occupied by a lone wheelchair that seems to move under its own volition?
The fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, casting long shadows that trick the eye (“A Simple Brain Scan”). Through parted curtains or cracked doors, the gamut of human suffering is on display: from broken bones and obstructed bowels to grief so overwhelming it burns (“Tears of Fire”). You duck your head to avoid making eye contact. You hope it’ll make you invisible.
Seemingly disembodied voices echo. Try as you might not to listen, you become a voyeur. Perhaps you’ll hear your neighbor beg to be made beautiful, no matter the consequences (“Bells & Whistles”). Or the clatter of the mop in the supply closet, as your doctor—the one with the thousand-yard-stare—slams the door (“Good Medicine”). Maybe it’ll be the couple leaning over the incubator, jabbing their fingers at the squirming something inside (“Baby Shop”). The chirp of machines never ceases, no matter how hard you clap your hands over your ears. You’ll try not to think about how your neighbors can probably hear you too. Maybe you’ll wish they could (“Fresh Start”). Why won’t an yone help?
“Does it hurt when I do this?” your doctor asks, palpating your abdomen with freezing cold hands. Yes, but sometimes pain is transformative (“The Patent Trial”; “Rainbow Rock”; “Brian the Brain”). At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself to keep from screaming. You certainly don’t tell him he’s grown horns and leathery wings (“My Brother’s Keeper”; “Malpractice”) because there’s another floor for patients who see the unbelievable (“The Haunted Curtains”). Besides, his bedside manner is impeccable—and he’s in-network (“Midnight at the Opal Public L ibrary”).
When you’re discharged, the pills rattling in your pocket, the horror isn’t over. Someone has to take care of you (“Noseblind”), or perhaps, you’ll have to take care of someone else (“Your Obedient Servant”). Lord help you if you find yourself in the middle of a pandemic (“Patient Zero”). When you finally forget your harrowing experience, a bill will arrive. Who knew a number could have that many zeros? Or perhaps you’ll find that when you wake up, you never left the hospital at all (“Th e Scan”).
In this anthology, you will find eighteen tales ranging from the horrifying to the irreverent. There are pustules a’plenty, and even a few that will break your heart. Make sure to consult with your doctor before reading.

A Hospital, A Hau nted House

A Simple Brain Scan
Jack son Arthur
A s Judy patiently waited for transport to show up and roll her off to a lower level, she was struck with a brief bout of full-body shivers, her skin and muscles trembling and shaking. Her room on the fourth floor felt even colder than usual, far colder than her last stay, if that were possible. Two white blankets and a single white sheet smothered her from the neck down, but they simply weren’t doing the trick. A river of ice still flowed through her veins. Why were hospitals always so freaking cold, anyway? Simply being there wasn’t torture enough? They wanted the patients to be as uncomfortable as possi ble, too?
An ancient, oval clock hung from the wall opposite her bed, the second hand running lap after lap after lap, tick tick ticking away the day. Her CT scan had been scheduled for 11:30 a.m. It was nearly 2:30 p.m. Her energy and patience were in sho rt supply.
In Judy’s vast experience, nothing rarely happened on time in a hospital. Everything was always … hurry up and wait. Nurses disappeared whenever she actually needed them. Doctors ran hours behind while on their daily rounds. However, if the hour grew too late, they would end up rescheduling her scan for the following morning. That would mean spending the night away from home.
That simply wasn’t acceptable, she tol d herself.
Ever since being diagnosed as a Hemophiliac with a rare bleeding disorder, Judy has spent far too many nights in the hospital, more than she ever dared to count. When would she catch a break? Or was death the only thing that could break the exhausting cycle? Or would she have to hurry up and wait for the grim reape r as well?
Judy’s husband sat in an uncomfortable chair to the right of her bed, partially huddled beneath a pale blanket of his own. In the dim light, he was mostly shadows and vague angles. Within the dark patches on his face, Judy could see that his blue eyes were open and staring blankly into the distance. Slowly, she slid a hand from beneath the mass of blankets and sheets, the movement sending chills down across her exposed skin. Gritting her teeth, Judy reached out from the bed and found her husband’s rough hand, which had been resting on the arm of the chair.
“We gotta stop meeting like this,” she said, her v oice weak.
“You scared me,” he replied, his eyes shifting toward Judy. “I thought you wer e asleep.”
“I’m having way too much fun to sleep,” she said, and then sighed. “Let’s make a break for it. What do you say? My clothes are right over there. We could be at IHOP in 20 minutes. 15 if I just keep this gown on. A full stack of pancakes would hit the spo t. Right?”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” he replied. “Nice try , though.”
“They won’t let me leave tonight,” she said. “I just know it. I’m tired. And I just want to go home.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, gently squeezing her fingers. “I kno w you do.”
“Well,” she began, “let’s get the hell out of here, then. I’m fine. I feel fine. My head feels a lot better now. It barely hurts anymore.”
“You passed out and smacked it off the sidewalk just this morning,” he replied. “We gotta get it checked out. We need to be sure that nothing is bleeding up there. It’s only a simple brain scan. No big deal. If your scan comes back clean, maybe the doctors will cut you loose tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. I’m sure you can tough it out until then. Right? And then I will buy you two full stacks of pancakes, with a side of hashbrow ns. Deal?”
“No,” Judy huffed. “Yes. Fi ne. Deal.”
“That’s my big girl,” he joked.
“Thank you, daddy ,” Judy replied with a fatigued, yet se xy, growl.
“I told you not to call me that,” he replied. “It’ s creepy.”
They both laughed and then fell sil ent again.
Nearly another hour tick tick ticked by before a young man, barely old enough to drink, pushed a wheelchair into Judy’s room. She considered asking him for a driver’s license, but the kid looked worn out, so she kept her m outh shut.
From the chest pocket of his scrubs, the young man pulled a small square piece of paper. “Are you Jud y Seaver?”
“That would be me, young sir,” Jud y replied.
“I will be your ride down to radiology,” the young man said. “It looks like you have a CT scan s cheduled?”
“Yep. And I am all yours,” she replied, and then turned toward her husband. “Can you give me a hand, swe et thing?”
Vacating his chair, Judy’s husband placed one hand on her back and one under her arm. Cautiously, he helped her sit up. Her pale legs shifted and poured over the side of the bed. Her sock-covered feet found the cold, tile floor. Her head became momentarily lightheaded, as she put her weight against her husband and stood. Her body, which was running on empty, resisted movement. As always, the strength of her battle-worn husband was enough to transition Judy from the bed to the w heelchair.
“Can you hand me those blankets?” she asked him, once she was seated. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here.”
The young man opened his mouth as if to object, but a stern look from Judy forced