A bright light shining before his face woke Andrew up. He knew the source of the light, he knew it was harmless, but today, like every other day, he did not want to open his eyes. He fought to keep them shut, but in vain. As though his eyes had will of their own, they shot open despite his wishes.
The tired face of the doctor stared back at him. His fingers tapped Andrew here, there, and everywhere. He didn’t particularly mind being tapped; sure it was annoying, but he could live with it. What got him, however, was the incessant yawning. The doctor yawned almost periodically, like he was hell-bent on driving Andrew crazy. The sight of his gaping mouth was grotesque enough to fuel nightmares for three consecutive nights.
Just as suddenly as the light had been turned on, it was turned off. Andrew’s eyes widened and shrank to cope with the instantaneous change. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He sighed. With nothing better to do, Andrew started thinking.
He noticed how weak he had been feeling the last couple of weeks. It felt like his energy could run out from as little as merely breathing. Andrew remembered how good his health had been when he first met the doctor. Now, a couple of years later, he suffered from all sorts of problems. He had sudden bursts of fever which stayed not for very long but happened very frequently. His eyesight had worsened, no, not worsened— his eyes had faint scratches on them. They didn’t cause him to see anymore terribly than he did before, but it was still exasperating to have to endure the sight of random lines at all times. His mind wandered back to his frequent fevers— how terrible they made him feel, how unlucky he was. He remembered how seldom he had fallen sick in the past, the good ol’ merry days.
A violent vibration cut his thoughts short. The bright light shone once more. The curious face of the doctor made its appearance right as Andrew closed his eyes shut. The doctor tapped him once more.
He knew what was about to happen, and he knew it was disgusting. Images flashed in his mind that he wanted to forget. He tried his hardest to shut his eyes, and he felt his hands forming into fists. Despite his earnest efforts, he could not close his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, the nightmare subsided. Dull and black again were his surroundings, the doctor’s face—and his ears, too, which were the object of Andrew’s disgust for some odd reason—no longer in view, exactly as he had hoped would be the case.
Andrew sighed. He tried to get back to what he had been thinking about, but he failed to remember any of it. His mind was fixated on the ears in spite of his desire to forget about them. The more he tried to forget the ears the more their image persisted in his head. The slimy yellow earwax, the prickly black hairs— things he had seen scarcely before were now what he was subjected to every single day. Whenever the doctor’s ears came near him he shook with a terrorising fear. It had been many months since he had the privilege of closing his eyes during that mortifying event. Oh, a fever! Andrew remembered at last. His mind went ahead thinking about his fever again, this time until his energy ran out and he fell asleep.
The next time the bright light shone on his face was when he found himself in a different location. He knew this place well. The grey ceiling, the spiderweb in the corner— everything was familiar to him.
“Meow,” said a voice.
Not this again. Andrew groaned. The paws of the new guest slapped him on the face; this was something he endured almost every time he encountered it. But this time, it was accompanied by scratches, more scratches. And this is why cats are the most horrible creatures on earth, thought Andrew.
The torment wasn’t over just yet. The pesky little thing went ahead and spilled water all over Andrew. His vision blurred, and his ears felt the cool touch of the water— oh no, bad news. Very bad news. The last thing Andrew remembered seeing before closing his eyes was the worried face of the doctor.
He woke up to the flashing of the bright light once more. This time the doctor was looking right at him. Andrew’s ears were clogged, but his vision was not blurry anymore. Through the scratches in his eyes he saw the pudgy hands of the doctor holding a box. He wondered what could be in it.
With gentle fingers, the doctor opened up the rectangular white box, revealing a phone. A phone? What for?
Andrew’s chest tightened. What did the doctor need another phone for?
Andrew watched as the doctor tapped on the phone— here, there, and everywhere. The doctor’s eyes met him again. Something clicked in Andrew’s mind.
His eyes were now teary and his body trembled with not only fear, but also with fury. His jaw hardened, and a vein in his forehead pulsated in a desperate attempt at holding back his tears.
The hands of the doctor came into view once more as he picked up Andrew’s weightless body. Andrew knew what was about to happen and he knew he could not change his fate. He looked ahead, right in the doctor’s eyes as the world around him went black for the last time.
.
.
.
.
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Author’s Note: I like this story. I tried submitting it in two different magazines, but after two rejections I feel like there’s no luck. I wrote it back in May of 2024 on a very eventful night. We had come home from a wedding, and Baba and I stayed up and talked for hours. He liked the story too. Here’s a tidbit I’m sure no one apart from me is going to find amusing: I named him Andrew because it sounds like a personified version of Android. I don’t think I have to explain the ‘Almost’ part to my readers. Thanks for reading!
A GREATTTTTTTT ONE