Needles

I was at the back of the line; filled with nervous, anxious children. I looked up at the sight of a tall mean nurse, towering over the doorway. Her evil grin sent shivers up my spine. Another child was lured into the room. The door was eerily nudged closed. The screech reminded me of the squeals I had been listening to for the past half an hour or so I had been waiting in line. Legend has it that when you go in there, you don’t come out. Somehow I was next in line. The door opened, I felt a lumpy hand reached over my shoulder. I looked up and was greeted not only by her grin, but a friendly “Its time!” by the nurse. I sat on the chair, waiting to be slaughtered, cut open, boiled or eaten alive. Nobody knew how she did it, i was about to find out. My eyes scanned the room; I was looking for a knife or a sword; something that would potentially hurt me. Suddenly, something shiny caught my eye. I looked over, expecting the worst. It was a giant needle. I had always pictured my death this way. She came over. I felt a small jab of pain. I was so confused? I didn’t die. I know, I must wait. So cruel. She’s leaving us all with a slow and pain fall death.

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