The Doctor's Visit

It rained quietly that night. My mother was in her room coughing up dark red liquid from her cracked lips. I gazed out the hallway window patiently, holding the ragged doll I've owned since I was a child. Death darkened the streets of London, and childhood memories were all I had left to cherish. Things were better then, regardless of our nonexistent moneys.

Within the shadows of the night I heard footsteps against the cobblestone. A few merchants, tightly clutching their shirt collars over their mouths passed, talking to each other and also glancing at me.

"Is he coming yet?"

I looked over my shoulder toward the dim hallway. Mother's door was open ajar, her candle light seeping out from the wooden room into the hallway. "Any moment now," I said softly. "We are in the middle of this maze of streets, you know. Anyone can get lost in these parts."

I looked down to my feet as a little furry creature brushed against my ankle. It rubbed its whiskered face before letting out a "Peep" and running into a tiny hole in the wall. Rodents have always been such an annoyance, and they certainly are not making this bad air any better.

When I turned my head and looked out the glass again, two black eyes stared back at me. I was startled at first to see the tall cloaked man with the tall hat, his bird head facing directly toward me. Rain dripped from the end of the leather beak, and onto his black walking stick. We stared motionlessly for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he slowly turned and stepped cautiously toward the door.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

I quickly walked to the wooden door and hesitantly opened it. Thunder introduced him before I let him inside. "She is in her room down this hallway," I said quietly.

I watched the cloak sway behind his black boots as we approached Mother's door. He was nearly a part of the shadows until the candle light made him visible again. When we turned the corner Mother was in her bed with diversely colored liquids staining her blanket. Her head was tilted back, bloody lips open as she was breathing heavy. Her eyes were closed tightly, seemingly from pain somewhere in her body.

"Mother?" I uttered. "The Doctor is here. Can you open your eyes?"

Her purple eyelids twitched until they revealed her diamond blues. "Hello... Doctor..." she whispered between heavy breaths.

My heart was hurting my chest as I watched the Doctor step closer to her bedside. He slowly leaned over, his beak close to her face. He tilted his head and used the end of his walking stick to tilt her head towards him. After a moment, he tilted her face away from him, revealing large purple bumps on the side of her neck. He traced her weak skin as he ran the end of this stick down her shoulder, down her arm, and stop at her shaky forearm. Mother only shook when she was afraid. I wanted to tell her to not be afraid, but I myself was silenced with fear. I hugged the door frame as he reached into his leather sack hanging from his waist and pulled out a scalpel.

He held her arm still with the stick whilst using his other hand to slowly slide the scalpel's edge into Mother's fragile skin. She winced and turned her head lift to right quickly and repeatedly. As she slid the bloodied scalpel across her skin, she began yelling. I have never heard her yell before, and it haunts me. Her screaming exposed tears before he pulled the scalpel away from her, letting the poisoned blood spill onto the wooden floor.

I put my hand over my mouth to refrain from yelling. The doctor knew what he was doing, right? Who am I to tell him to stop? A distressed tear fell down my cheek and the bird face slowly turned to look at me. His head tilted to a side, I could sense he knew how upset I was. "Will you get a bowl for her blood? It is messy." His smooth voice echoed across the room, as if Mother's whimpers from pain were now inaudible.

Reluctantly I left the door and sped into the kitchen. Mother's cries for me to come back made me stumble around the kitchen and clumsily rummage through the dishes. When she stopped crying, my shaky fingers wrapped firmly around a bowl and I ran back to the hallway. When I stood in the door, I gasped and dropped the bowl, which then shattered upon hitting the wooden floor.

The doctor's large black gloved hand was over Mother's mouth and nose, and she lye still, her eyes closed softly. He was looking at me with the black hollow eyes. I took shaken steps backward, speechless yet breathing forcefully. "Mother!" I yelled, leaning forward to force the noise out. The doctor stood from his stool and slowly stepped toward me without his cane. His head tilted to the side and he spread his hand out toward me. "NO!" I screamed fearfully. When my back hit the wooden wall, he was already right in front of me. I tried to step to the side to begin running into the streets to find safety, but he grabbed my left arm quickly and tightly. I yelled in pain as his tight grip was causing my hand to become numb quickly.

He turned my arm upright, exposing the purple bumps rising from my skin. My heart dropped as I had been trying very hard to hide them under my sleeve during his visit. Silently looking up at the bird's face, the glass eyes revealed grass green beneath the shadows. I had never seen such eyes before.

I watched in horror as he lifted his scalpel and slowly directed it to the skin next to the bumps. When I felt the blade's edge tap my skin, I panicked and began to yell and wiggle in his grip. Eventually I had successfully released myself from his grip by dropping weakly to my knees. I crawled away from him and flipped onto my side to look up at him.

No one was there.

Wind and rain began to enter the hallway, and I saw that the door had been opened. Thunder echoed throughout the wooden house, and I got up quickly to close the door. I used my back to hold the door shut tight and breathed heavily. I sank down to my knees and wept.

Later, I found a piece of paper and ink on Mother's beautiful wooden desk. As I write this now, I am hoping somebody finds this and reads what I had just been through. I know not whether I will see him again, or if I will see a different beaked man. My bumps do not look as severe as my Mother's. Perhaps I will live a while. I just pray I do not see that man again. My heart filled with fear from the moment he stepped into my house. But when I saw his eyes, I felt something different.

I hope this bad air goes away soon...