Title:

"1 Month"

.

The doorway to the apartment was covered in puke. First from the landlord, than the patrolman who responded. Then Precinct 3

had sent in every single detective they had, each single one had added to the overwhelming flood of vomit. The

smell of vomit can cause the chain reaction, but ... tonight, that was not the reason for the mess in the doorway.

.

A slight buzzing sound could be heard from the room as Wilson approached the doorway. He had enough Vick’s Vaporub in his mustache

to have shaped it into a small piece resembling The Last Supper.

.

“Ain’t gonna help you a bit,” Dawson had warned him. “It ain’t the smell. I ... there ...

there’s no way to prepare you for what’s in that room.”

The words kept playing through his head. Over and over.

.

Wilson had been called in from three cities away. Why Wilson? He could stomach anything. Had seen things that no man

should have to see. He’d been through all 4 middle eastern wars. He’s seen the worst of the worst in the last two, and those were well

beyond bloody. As he made the final steps towards the doorway, “Why the hells didn’t someone clean up this vom....”

.

That was as far as the thought made it.

.

Now, he just stared.

.

The buzz was coming from several small apparatuses scattered about the figure that sat in the plastic protected recliner.The kind of plastic

that grandmother would put on. In the first short fifteen seconds he stood there he knew exactly what

each machine was doing. One feed the IV drip that had enough of a reservoir on it to keep someone alive for about two months. It was even

refrigerated. Not that it really needed it with the room being as ice cold as it already was. The AC was on full and winter breeze blew in

through both windows. Another small appliance gathered and processed what little waste materials that the figure could generate. That was

pumped into a series of 55 gallon drums across the room using fish aquarium pumps. “Ingenious,” thought Wilson.

.

He was no standing in front of the man in the chair. He not only had made it across the room, but was not even gagging in the least.

.

A third piece of equipment, which looked like a jerry-rigged dialysis machine, was pumping blood. Every single artery and vein that did not

supply blood to a vital organ had been severed and attached to a tube that than pumped the blood back into the man’s circulatory system.

Everything above the neck, the lungs, stomach, kidneys, liver, all that was still receiving it’s needed nourishment via the equipment.

The rest of the body, was dead and withered.

A month he had been hooked to this machine. A month sitting and slowly rotting. But there was one

final horror ...

.

Wilson literally shit himself , as the man mouthed the words, “Please help me!”

** ** ** **

Well, that is my twisted tale. Anyone else want to try?