Ginger Nuts of Horror
Christmas is coming, the decorations are up, Christmas tunes are playing on repeat, and the eggnog is chilling in the fridge. Ginger Nuts of Horror welcomes the festive season. And as a thank, you for all of your support for what has been a fantastically successful year, Ginger Nuts of Horror in association with Charlotte Bond, brings you 13 For Christmas. For thirteen days in the lead up to Christmas, we bring you a special festive themed piece flash fiction from Charlotte. Grab a hot drink and find a nice warm place and please enjoys these festively creepy tales.
Today's story is titled Wrapped up (Part 2 )
Matthew opened his eyes. His face felt numb. He tried to turn his head and a bolt of pain shot down from his cheek through his shoulder. He winced and rolled his head back. He squeezed his eyes closed, riding the pain until it eased.
When he felt able to, he opened his eyes again. Being in bed, he had expected to see the familiar furnishings of his bedroom. But the room he was in was completely alien to him. Its walls were a sickly green. There was a bland framed picture of a landscape on the wall. Over the frame had been draped some dull, ragged tinsel. Not wanting to risk moving his head again, he moved his eyes instead. The windows on either side of the door were frosted but he could make out the suffused glow of multicoloured fairy lights strung along the bottom.
A shadow passed over one window and the door handle moved. The door opened, admitting the distant strains of carols and the pungent disinfectant smell that confirmed Matthew's suspicion that he was in a hospital. That idea was reinforced by the man who walked through the door, dressed in green scrubs with a surgeon's mask across his face.
The surgeon closed the door, his eyes on the clipboard he carried. When he looked up, his eyes crinkled in an unseen smile.
'Ah! Matthew. Good to see you're awake. You won't be that way for long, I'm afraid. We need to operate on that wound on your face in the next few hours to prevent anything more than minimal scarring.' The surgeon bent down, peering at Matthew's face, inspecting the wound. 'A graft, I think.'
Matthew's heart stuttered as he saw the dark eyes in the pale face. A memory, a terrible one, was battling the way to the forefront of his mind. He could feel fear racing up and down his spine, but his mind was so groggy, he couldn't figure out what it was he should be afraid of.
The surgeon stood up and stared down at Matthew. It was an intense, probing look and Matthew shrank back into his pillow. The surgeon chuckled at his reaction. 'You're in very good hands, Matthew, very good hands.'
The surgeon reached up and pulled down his mask. It revealed his nose, his pale pink lips, and the seam that ran from each corner of his lips all the way to his ears. The surgeon's mouth opened, his cheeks parted and row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth were revealed.
Matthew started to scream, tearing his wound open so that blood poured down his cheek and soaked his pillow.