Friday, March 8, 2013

Dream 08 "The Still-Beating Heart of Dr. Emily Stowe" (Emily Stowe, 1883)

She dreamed they had cornered her in the basement at the university, dragged her into an operating theatre and forced her up onto the table. Three medical students, young and strong, held her arms and legs while the doctor drew his scalpel straight down the centre of her chest. She couldn’t feel a thing, but watched, helpless, as the blade cut clean through skin and muscle and bone. She fell open. There was a pop; her ribs came apart like a pair of storm cellar doors.

And from between them came her heart, angry, like a chained dog. It thundered and roared. Leapt halfway out of her chest with every beat. Spit blood like venom. Splattered boiling crimson across the walls and four surprised faces.

The men, they fell back, stunned, and were gone.


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