This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.








“Doctor, do you think I’ll be cured?”
“You will be cured Mr…”
“Edmond”
“But I think we’ve to operate your lower jaw and remove it or the necrosis will spread to the throat and…”
“I’ll die, right?”
“I would say so”
“It’s okay Doctor, I’m used to this”
“What?”
“The pain, I’m used to it. Just that I can’t taste those wonderful things I’ve tasted before. How’s the steak cooking Doctor?”
“Uh? Steak?”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that your wife would me cooking steak today. How do you like your steak to be cooked, Doctor?”
“I guess I love it rare, very rare actually”
“Mmmm… Bloody as Hell isn’t it Doctor? You’ve got taste.”

This man Edmond, I’ve never met a stranger person before in my life. His eyes had the spark of rising flames but that’s it. He was referred to me by the local church father, who called me up and said “Even God doesn’t show mercy on some. And for them there are doctors”. I must tell you that it was a great one liner, but upon seeing this Mr. Edmond, I felt like God, I didn’t want to show him mercy. His face and the upper torso were in a sorry state. If given the freedom I would’ve called him the “walking dead” but the medical dictionary already had a pitiful name for it, necrosis.  He had a wide gaping hole on his left cheek and from it one could see the prominently invisible left jaw. There was just one big hole on the left side of his face, with dead, rotting tissue, which was so black that upon seeing that man I immediately knew that even after separating his head from the torso he’d be a dead man. And if those porno purists could get a hold of this Mr. Edmond, fellatio would’ve had a totally different meaning. Ef-flatio, maybe. But I was surprised by the clarity of his speech and the way he held himself together. I asked him to sit down and tell me what happened.

“Some other time Doctor”
“But at least you’d have to tell me what the problem is”
He pointed his finger towards the hole and said “That and…” He removed his shirt to reveal badly charred skin with legions of raw muscle beneath it.
“I want you to give me a medicine for the pain now. I’ll come again Doctor”
Funny man.

________________________________________________________________________

“You’ve got the guns ready Tim?”
“Yeah man, these little beasts are up and running”
“Pass me one”
“Here, take Weisner, this’ll be your chick for the night, the cocky bastard”
“You sawed the barrel off? Why did you do that for?”
“Maximum hit range mate, it’ll work fine”
 “Wha…?. “
“C’mon man, take it easy, a gun is a gun. Everybody, ready for a demo?”
“Yeah! Except that Bob’s complaining that his pants are too tight”
“Are they? Ask him to cut off his little wiener, that’ll loosen him up a bit”
________________________________________________________________________

“Doctor, there is one Mr. Edmond waiting for you at the reception, should I send him in?”
“Does he have an appointment?”
“No, but he has one scheduled for tomorrow and he insists that it’s very important for him to meet you today”
“Send him in”
He walked in with a grim smirk on his face, and his dead tissue looked deadlier than ever, with a small yellow jaw bone jutting out from the side.

“Please, take a seat”
“Evening doctor. How are you today?”
“I think I must be asking you that question today”
“But I asked you first didn’t I doctor? Tell me. How are you today?”
I’d have ignored if it was any other patient but there was this eerie quality possessed by the Edmond guy that made me talk.
“I’m fine, what brings you here today?”
“Are you married doctor?”
“What’s it got to do with you?”
“I’m just asking doctor, I’m the walking dead anyway, am I not?”
How did he know that?
“Wel… Keep up the confi…”
“Answer to my question doctor, are you married?”
“Yes, I am”
“For how long?”
“Three years”

“That’s enough doctor. Coming back to me. I’ve a problem with my muscles down on my thigh. They’re just coming out of the skin. Do you it’s all right?”
For the first time in my professional career I felt like puking. There was something seriously terrible about this man.

“Mr. Edmond, you should tell me what happened to you”
“Doctor, it’s only when the sun rises the darkness vanishes, when the time comes you’ll get to know everything.”
“What?”
“Believe me doctor, give me a few pills and I’ll lead you away from the darkness”


This man needs a fuckin’ psychiatrist.
_______________________________________________________________________

“I’m home!”
“Tina, I’m home!”
“Tina!..”
“Your dinner is in the oven, I’m a bit busy right now.”
“Can’t you even come down?”


The problem with having a big house is, you can’t know where the sound is coming from. That’s the reason I was still wondering where Tina’s voice came from.
“I can’t. I have a client on the phone. I’ve to be back”
Shit. I come all the way from work, tired like a tramp and my wife wouldn’t even come down to greet me. What’s life for?
“Okay. Take your time”
______________________________________________________________________

“Mr. Edmond is here”
“Send him in”
“Good evening doctor”
“Mr. Edmond, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m feeling fine doctor. By the way do you love your wife?”
“What? Look Mr. Edmond you are trying to be personal with me. You must understand a doctor cannot be personal with his pa…”

“You are human aren’t you, doctor. That gives you the privilege to talk to me”
“Look here Mr. Edmond, I’ve got to refer you to a psychiatrist”
“Do you know about the Bitch Factor doctor?”
“What?”
“Who commits a sin”
“A sinner”
“Who is a sinner?”
“Ummm…”
“A sinner is a human, doctor. Animals don’t commit sin, do they? And who created humans?”
“God?”
“No. God just created two gatekeepers for his garden. But who created us doctor?”
“Our parents?”

“No. A woman created us. We’re sinners doctor and it all started because of a woman who couldn’t stop thinking of an apple.  Men, doctor have different ways to express their anger. They drink, they indulge in fights, and they talk. Men share almost everything. You know what’s the most dangerous thing, doctor? It’s invisibility. Anything that’s invisible is dangerous. The unknown is the devil, and invisibility is the devil’s medium. Women don’t show their feelings. They hide them, doctor. They always try to subdue their emotions, doctor. You find them happy trying to hide their ageing skin and their lost charm. They hope their pimples and wrinkles are invisible. They do a paint job to blow you off, doc.
And Bitch Factor. It’s the probability of hitting a bitch and it increases exponentially with marriage doctor. Right now your wife might be sleeping with a ‘client’ and you might not even know. Women are infidels doc. And we men are the reapers of their sin. Women love to be attractive and they’ll do anything to be like that. If you want to sleep with your hot assistant it’s not your fault doc, it’s hers, they play femme fatale, they gobble you in, they ruin your family and they run away. Now, doctor. Do you trust your wife?”

“Y…yes”
“Do me a favor, go to 1813, Rivercross Street now.”
“What?”

“Do it doctor. You won’t regret it. And you've always asked me what happened to my cheek. The devil on my bet stabbed me doctor. She stabbed me with a spear, straight in my face. And she burned me with that battery acid, doc. And then she put me on fire. You might ask me why. It’s because I asked her why she was cheating on me. Women, doctor. Women. You just won’t know what’ll happen next. And if I were you, doctor. I’d be wielding the spear and split the fire. Because God’s have the power and devils have fear. And if were you, I’d use the fire escape”
“What?”
“Good luck doctor. I need to go now”
_________________________________________________________________________

I went. For once I was pushed forward to doubt my wife. Who’s this guy Edmond anyway? I just had the feeling to stab him in his gut for asking me to doubt my wife. I went. I went 14 floors up the fuckin’ Riverdale building. 1813. Oak doors and enamel plaques. The apartment was solid. I had no way to go into the apartment. The door was closed and there were no windows. What the… Edmond. This guy Edmond, I’ll never let him step into my office again. Edmond. Wait. “And if were you, I’d use the fire escape”
I ran towards the fire escape and stood on the steel stairs. Three windows were connected together by a steel ramp which led to a fleet of stairs. Room 1813. It was five windows away. This meant that I had to jump three across feet in mid air, 14 floors from the ground. Why waste it? I thought. Why waste my life. But I could see Edmond grinning right before me, with his tongue coming out of his cheek. I closed my eyes and jumped.
_________________________________________________________________________

I put the knife inside my pajamas, the last place she’d probably see. You should see his dick. It’s a joke!.
“Tina, how was your day today?”
“It was okay. Had a lot of work today, I actually went up Riverdale to finish up a project.”

Yeah. Project use my and fuck your client. You should see his dick.
“How did it go?”
“Uhhh? It was good, look, I’m pretty tired today, let’s talk later”
Why not dump him then Tina? Oh! I can’t do that Henri. Who’ll get us the money then? Let’s play it his way, he’s so busy fuckin’ his dead patients that he won’t bother us. Let’s play fair now, we always have the insurance.
As a doctor I always have the choice to either give a life or to take. But no one will be there to question be about it, that’s the beauty of my profession. But for the first time, I’ll be questioned. Kill me? Use me? I’m not a garbage can, am I? I have feelings.

“Hon, switch of the lights will you?”
“Yeah, sure”
There was darkness. I didn’t want to look at her sick blood, but tonight I’ll bathe in it. I always had this habit of bathing in a hot shower before going to sleep. I’ll do the same tonight. In her blood, after she sleeps, forever. A small cut on her inferior phrenic right on her diaphragm, she’ll be spurting blood. She’ll pee and twist over, but she’ll spurt blood with such a force that’ll it’ll be spread in a 12 feet direction.  And I’ll bathe in it.
_______________________________________________________________________


Two hours passed away and the clock kept clicking. She started snoring slightly. Deep sleep. Never to wake up again. I slowly woke up and rolled towards her side. She was sleeping with her head turned towards the other side and the pink negligee looked inviting. Pink plus red. Dark brown. Perfect. She always wanted a tan. I slowly chose my spot, two inches below her heart. Two inches below her vile, infect ridden breasts. She’s a goner now. I lifted my knife up and the door blasted open and the lights turned on.
“What the fuck is going on?”

I was petrified. Four masked, gun wielding men dressed in black came right into my room just a few seconds before I was going to finish my wife. Police? But police don’t wear masks.
“Who..who are you?”
“Drop the knife down you sick bastard”
“Wha.. Jennie? Wha…”
“Shut up bitch.”
“Who are they Jen? An… what’s with the knife?”
“I said, shut up your fuckin mouth bitch and also you tough guy, you can kill your wife later”
“Mow Madame Tina, just tell me where the booking contracts for TEL are and we’ll leave you.”
“What?”
I could not bear this mockery anymore. I decided to kill her. She knew it anyway, what’s the big deal if I do it when she’s awake. I raised my knife and…
Bang.

200 small little lead pellets blasted from the Weisner 230 mm bore and cut their way through the barrel and the gunman shook a millimeter, which was enough for them to travel wide apart by four centimeters and hit, Tina. The wall behind her head got their share of grey matter for the day and they remained silent.

“What the fuck Henri! You killed the girl. Bloody cunt.”
“Hey mister, do you realize that you’ve just kille…”
Henri moved forward and shot again, and before the blink of an eye there was football sized hole in the middle of Jen’s chest. “Fucking basterds”
“Fucking basterds, Tim. Fuck you, son of an arsehole. You sawed the gun. You fucked $90 million dollars right before our own eyes. Why? Maximum hit range. I bet you filthy B grade New York cunt can get better than that. Hitting on gutter dicks whose…”
“How will I know that you don’t kno…”
“I don’t know how to shoot a gun heh? I shoot it like this. I cock it and…”
Bang. Bang. The entire room shook with the tremor.
Two men dropped dead on the ground, with their guns in opposite directions.
“What are we supposed to do Bob?”
“Run! What else!”

911 received a call from a frantic neighbor reporting gunshots and noises from his neighbouring house. Patrol car No.51 which was cruising in the neighborhood reported back from the upscale Bronx villa, after capturing an obese man who tried to jump off the window, but got struck because his pants were too tight and his partner who couldn’t get out because of him. The police alerted the forensics and took the two suspects to a police van and had them sent to the NYPD HQ. The van barely travelled a mile before which a speeding truck, smashed them from the behind and had the van in flames on Interstate 101. Newspaper reports indicated all the four occupants to be dead. The whereabouts of the truck were unknown.
_______________________________________________________________________

Edmond. Living in New York must’ve made them deaf. I’m Emond. For the thing my wife did to me a sixty years ago had to be avenged. When the sinners in Hell have repaid for their sins they’re allowed to become ghosts to commit sin again and get back to Hell. Martha. I wanted to see her decapitated. But she died just after I did and still didn’t repay for her crime. I came back, with vengeance but I couldn’t kill. A ghost cannot kill but it can drive a mortal to do the ultimate act. The church father, the wife, the husband, the thieves, the truck driver. Everyone. I’ve followed Martha’s bloodline and had her great granddaughter killed. I committed enough sin that’ll last for decades. For in Hell, there’s only 13 days time for the next set of punishments to begin, every ghost gets 13 days to avenge his past. And for each day he loses, he’ll lose a part of his body, reminding him of Hell.  And on the thirteenth day, he’ll sprout wings and return back to the gates of Hell. I was a happy man. Errr… ghost.


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Note: The image is a real photo of a woman being executed in an Electric chair back in 1927.