Nightmares of the Abandoned Hospital

The stitches on my arm were real, a chilling souvenir from that abandoned hospital.

Now, the nightmares bleed into reality: flickering lights, scattered tools,

and the phantom scent of antiseptic. Last night, a scalpel appeared at my bedside.

He's still performing surgeries, and I think... I'm next. I tried to convince

myself it was just a vivid dream, a lingering trauma manifesting. But the scalpel,

gleaming wickedly in the faint moonlight, was undeniably real. I hurled it across the room,

my heart hammering against my ribs, and it clattered against the wall, a sound that echoed

the chilling instruments I’d seen in my waking nightmares. Sleep offered no escape.