Fear Street by R.L Stine

The perfect Date, The Secret Bedroom, The Deadly Fire and The Knife


The best way of reading "The R.L STINE" series is lock yourself in a room, switch-off all the lights, turn-on a lamp with yellow light, hold your soft toy tight and read. If that does not give you the creeps- then you deserve a Nobel Prize.

I am 26, trust me I still enjoy reading these books and freak out. It is amazing how just visualising what you read can really give you the creeps. 

What if these were real incidents? What if spirit world did exist? Would you be scared?...


13.03.2015, I can never forget about this day. This was the day I died...

I was a Junior Nurse with St. Willow Hospital. It was my first month at work and I was super excited. I had always wanted to be a Nurse, help people and take care of them. And when I first entered this hospital, it felt like my dream came true. 

It is a beautiful hospital; marbled floors, colorful walls for children sector, patterened wallpaper for general ward, Special facilities for olderly and much more. I was working in the elderly section taking care of the old people. They all loved me and always were eager for my presence. They would all ask me about my health, my life, my family and so on while I check their pressure and give them medicines.


The elderly ward was a long room with curtains used as separations between different beds. For elderly with serious medical problems were kept in separate rooms but other were kept together so they would interact with one another, use the television together, or read and chit-chat. It was not a hospital-like environment in here.

Bed No. 13, Mr. Calle Fido was a lean man with dark complexion. His big round eyes sunken in the eye socket always felt like he was looking for someone, his ears huge, bones protruding out of his chest and long white hair fell up to his shoulder. I often asked doctors, what was wrong with this man? His reports seem normal.

"He is a special case and kept under observation." replied Mr. Roy. He was taking care of Mr. Fido and was always making sure to keep him alive. 

Despite his looks, Mr. Fido was a quiet man. He never disturbed anyone or never argued over anything, he would just be on his bed, talk to the doctor, have food and go to sleep. No matter how many times I would try to make a conversation, he would just pretend not to listen and go back to sleep. It was odd for me and I think everyone felt he was an odd man because no one ever talked about him or even noticed him. Like he didn't exist.

Friday morning, it was the end of my shift in the late evening and I was on my final round of providing medicines and food to all the patients. I went to bed no. 13, Mr. Fido was sleeping. 

"Mr Fido, I have your medicines sir?"
"Sir?"
I called him twice, he didn't listen. Was he ignoring me? But he never ignored his medicines. "Sir?" I called again. No movement, gently i kept my hand on his shoulder and called him again. This time I was sure.
I ran to call Mr. Roy, "Doctor, Mr. Fido is not moving. I think..."

Mr. Roy quickly hung his stethoscope on his shoulder and ran with me to see the patient. He checked his nerve, his eyes, and took his blood pressure, NOTHING! He was gone. Mr. Fido laid on his bed quiet, forever. The senior nurses came and were asked to run the final tests before officially declaring him dead, and the doctor left. My shift was over and I was ready to leave when Mr. Roy called me.

"Could you please take him to the morgue, its time you should also get used to these things." he said and asked me if I would be able to do it.
I knew it is also a part of the training programme and I was also supposed to deal with the dead. I have done it before and I can do it doctor, I assured Mr. Roy. He gave me a smile and left.


So, there is nothing to be scared about. Late Mr. Fido was covered in a white plastic bag zipped from head to toe and was ready to be shifted. Without wasting any time I started pushing the trolley towards the morgue. From the elderly wing to the morgue, it was long isle under construction. Lights flickering, rubble and water all over the floor it felt scary but then I just can't leave him there. I have seen this man in his sickness, perhaps we could have a little chat on his way to heaven.

"It was nice knowing you Mr. Fido and you were a very gentle man, I will miss you" I kept talking all the way to the morgue just to stop feeling uneasy and it worked. He really was a peaceful man.

I had almost reached my destination, its easy i thought. I wonder why was I breaking so much of head in this tiny little thing.

"Right Mr. Fido, it's easy. See, I did it.""I hope..."

Something moved beneath my right hand. My eyes went wide open, what's happening? I must be dreaming.

Something moved again!

This time i wasn't dreaming, I stood still unable to move. Within seconds, Mr. Fido sat straight and turned at me. Through the little gap of zip which grew a little bigger I saw his eye starring straight at me filled with anger. 

I stood still.
Mr. Fido was not dead. The senior nurse have not done their job properly and didn't run the tests required. He is back in his wing, healthy and ready to be discharged.

But... 13.03.2015, I DIED. I never even got the chance to understand what just happened. I really wanted to ask why? and I could not understand whom should I ask, except... I went to Mr. Fido who was sitting straight on his bed. Even though I knew he would not be able to hear me, I sat facing him and asked "Why me? Mr. Calle Fido, why me?"
He gave a smile as if he could hear me. I asked again "Why me?". It felt like he came a little closer to my ears and said "Calle Fido stands for FalleCido which means the deceased in Spanish". Then he laughed out loud and louder. I turned around in anger and saw more people... more dead people smiling at Mr. Fido. 

He was the death angel in the elderly ward.

Share on Google Plus

About RayDezigns

This is a short description in the author block about the author. You edit it by entering text in the "Biographical Info" field in the user admin panel.
    Blogger Comment

0 comments:

Post a Comment