Creepypastas

Can't Help Fate

" I never was a huge fan of myths, legends or any folksy wisdom for that matter. Spooky stories to tell around a campfire had no value to me, except good entertainment of course. You know, a man can spend his whole life living in ignorance, maybe that's how it's supposed to be ... but sometimes, one is yanked into the unknown without a reason, facing consequences larger than life! Would you call that fate doctor?"

With his legs spread over the firm matrices covering the floor and walls of his prison, a tormented man gazed into the glasses of his doctor. His arms, squeezed tightly into a straitjacket, wrapping his torso mercilessly, making it hard to breathe, let alone talk. Yet, he found the strength to let his thoughts out of the head whose nightmares carved dark, blue circles around the sunken, hazel eyes.

"Mr. Smith, the only way to put an end to Your episodes is a good night sleep. You are experiencing sleep deprivation, leading to hallucinations, common when the brain is more than 3 days without a rest"

With a syringe full of sedative in his right hand, the young doctor paid little attention to the words of his patient, quivering to the sight of it.

"No! I mustn't fall asleep! They will come again! I know they will! They always do! I must be awake to listen!"

Just as he leaned over to administer the drug, the young doctor's eyes met the look of the crazed old man, pleading for him to listen.

"Give me the drug after I tell you, I must tell you!"

Normally, he wouldn't listen to an aggressive patient after an episode, but this time the young man was intrigued by the desperation in the voice of the man pressing against the wall. His hand hesitated, until he found the plastic cap of the needle. His curious mind wanted to hear the distorted story of reality, residing in this poor man's thoughts. With the sedative in the pocket of his white coat, the doctor sat next to the patient, and carefully probed for more information.

"Alright Mr. Smith, tell me who are they?"

Eyes widened in relief, and a creepy smile on the face across the wandering doctor, while a crusty voice begun unveiling a strange story.

"Thank you, you want to listen, nobody else does! You know once, I was young too, just like you. But you chose to see lunacy, while I tried to get away from it most of my life."

"When did it begin?"

"Oh, long time ago, it has been approximately 30 years from that night"

The seemingly absent eyes shifted to the upper right corner of the room, a sign of remembrance, the doctor thought, while a soft, curious voice flew out of his throat.

"What about that night?"

Fear, worry and desperation clenched the wrinkled face of the man struggling with his thoughts. Pieces of a puzzle, falling into place in his mind, until words found their way out, in a bizarre, eloquent manner.

"I was traveling through Europe, researching Slavic mythology. As an aspiring playwright, I somehow found myself stranded between curious myths and legends. Their entertainment value was a great interest of mine, but the more questions I asked, answers always eluded my senses. Eastern Europe is not a good place for the inquisitive mind of an American researcher. At first, locals of small villages would greet me with great hospitality, but the second I pondered religious beliefs beyond Christianity, they would ask for me to leave their residence. I never knew why they ignored their oral heritage like that."

As the patient sunk into his own memories, the doctor's curiosity peaked once more, taking him back to the cruel reality of the asylum.

"I'm sure you've had your suspicions..."