Mic Hildon lay in his rickety bed, feeling a repentant man. He had sought out the mysterious man that nearly took his life. He never found even the slightest trace. The most recognizable feature, the cowl that the man had been wearing, seemed to turn up nowhere on the internet. Anybody, other than Alexandra, that he told the story of the fateful night of his near murder to, had not believed him.
His eye lids are heavy. He picks up a strange scent on the tip of his nostrils. He lives in the city, so he’s used to strange smells. He shrugs off the odd scent and thinks further about the violent incident that should give him nightmares.
The loose floor boards around the edge of the room start to leak a smoky substance. The smokiness hangs low along the ground as it rolls over itself.
Mic’s nose twitches again as the smell gets more intense. He groans and pulls the covers up over the bottom of his face.
The smoke spreads across the whole room and then starts to lift up all along the floor in sequence almost as if it is alive. The smoke thins out as the room starts to fill from floor to ceiling.
Mic’s eyes start to burn just a bit. He opens them in a panic. He sees the fog clouding his vision and rubs his eyes, as if the clouded vision is just sleepy eyes.
The fog thickens in a wedge shape with the point aimed right at Mic’s face. Suddenly, as if a mass of concentrated wind presents itself at the back of the room, the fog hurls forward into Mic’s face and forces its way down his throat.
The screams are so muffled that none can hear them.
**
New York Suburban Hospital
Mic Hildon lays in a sterile, white sheet covered bed. The covers hardly look disturbed and if someone paid little attention, the occasional passerby might not even think the bed had an occupant.
Mic has become a shadow of what he once was. He used to be a slightly husky man, now his skin falls flabby and limp around his cracking bones. His skin appears to age beyond his years, large brown age spots have formed across the lower part of his face. His hair has started to fall out.
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“I just don’t get it. You’re sure you got the IV set up properly?” A doctor in the room says.
“Doctor, please. It’s been double and triple checked. He should be receiving fluids and nutrients intravenously.” The nurse shrugs and nearly drops her pen in frustration.
“Alright, alright.” The doctor puts a comforting hand on the nurse and looks back towards his most challenging patient.
A man suffers in the hospital from cannibalism withdrawal. The doctors can find no way to sustain the man and he will wither away slowly before them without flesh.
New York Suburban Hospital
The least experienced nurse, Sally, on the night shift drew the shortest straw. Now she has come to check on the patient that has just been giving all the nurses the willies. She pulls up the clip board from the side of the bed and glances over the charts of a Mr. Mic Hildon.
Mr. Mic Hildon, she shakes her head in disappointment. She is no doctor, but she wishes she could understand or figure out what has happened to this poor man.
Severe dehydration, severe starvation, and decreased bone density seem to be some of Mr. Hildon’s symptoms. Blood tests show abnormalities that have doctors at the hospital stumped and even whispered conversations that Sally heard, with an out of town specialist, are yielding no better results.
Sally hangs the chart up and walks over to Mic’s side. She leans over his upper torso and gently, in a caring manner, brushes aside a bit of hair that has fallen into his face. Mic lets out only the slightest wheezing sound of acknowledgement. Sally pulls her hand away from his head, and she screams as the skin connected to his hair, and thusly to her hand, peels right off of his head.
She shakes her hand vigorously, still screeching as the tiny, knotted hairs untangle from her hand. Finally, as her pink nurse smock is specked all over with blood, the fist sized piece of flesh splats to the floor.
With this sudden commotion, Mic starts to react. Finally, after several days of lying nearly still, he sits up in the elevated hospital bed and starts to groan loudly.
Sally panics and steps back away from Mic, horrified. Only a seasoned nurse could have perhaps handled such a horrid vision. Sally slips as she side steps to leave the head of the bed and her foot plants firmly on the center of the recently removed flesh.
Her feet are now flailing in the air and her head cracks against the once sterile tile floor.
Mic stirs as his feet start to slide off of the center of the bed in the direction which Sally has just fallen. His eyes peel open wide as his vision centers on Sally, unconscious on the floor.