By Joshua Crets


I hate hospitals. It's not because of all the sick people and the death that seems to float around their, although that certainly doesn't make it better.
It's the smell.
The sterile smell. The gloomy atmosphere and the depressing people you find go right with it. No one is very happy when they're in a hospital, least of all someone who has a loved on in. Like me.
Four hours ago, my dad had a heart attack. An hour ago I was notified. My sister, Lucy let all my siblings know, but me. She said that during all the commotion, it just slipped her mind. She said she was very worried about dad.
She and I have never gotten along.
I walked into the hospital, St John's Medical. I had gone through the emergency entrance, which, looking back now may have been a mistake. I tried to ignore everyone as I made my way through, as I mentioned earlier, I hate hospitals. I still saw everything, no matter how hard I tried to block it out.
In a room I passed there was young black man, had to be in his early twenties I'd say, who seemed like all he wanted to do was fall asleep. The doctor, a white woman, in her thirties, with two male nurses accompanying her, tired to interrogate the young black man. 'Are you on drugs?'�
'No, I'm. . .'� He stopped for a second and repeated 'No, I'm. . .I'm fine. Perfectly A-O,'� and he stopped again, seeming to have forgotten the K.
'Are you on drugs?'�
The questions very well may have gone on for much longer, but I hurried away. As I walked I heard another conversation, this one between a doctor and nurse on duty. The doctor had apparently said something that the nurse didn't appreciate as he passed by while reading a chart.
'Did, you just say the 'S'� word?'� The slightly over-weight nurse asked, seemingly surprised and disgusted.
'Does it really matter? Do we really need to go through this?'� The doctor asked as he tried to look over the chart.
'Yes, we most certainly do. This is a hospital! You can't just go around cursing up a storm.'�
'It was one word, and I'm sure that I'm allowed to say what I want. Once the hospital makes a rule against it, I'll stop,'� He said. Slightly angered.
'Well, I'm sure Jesus would appreciate that attitude,'� she scolded.
'I'm an atheist. I don't give a'� and at that he cursed again, leaving a look of anger on her face.
I was out of that part of the hallway before they began to brawl, but I wasn't going to be surprised is I saw the doctor in one of his own emergency rooms later on in the day.
I really do hate hospitals.


'Chris!'� My brother Sam exclaimed as I entered the emergency room my father was in.
I looked around saw Lucy, and Sam obviously, but my other brother was missing. 'Where's Paul?'�
'Oh yeah, he went to take a leak.'� Sam walked up to me and gave me a big hug. It'd been four months since I last saw him. It might sound like a long time, but I hadn't seen my other sibling in much longer amounts of time than that.
I looked at Lucy. 'What happened?'�
She sighed disgustedly at me, and gave me a look as if it was really troubling her to answer my question. 'He was watering his plants outside a few hours ago while I was at his home, and just fell over, gripping his chest. Don't worry though, I'�, she emphasizes the 'I', 'took him to the hospital and helped make things run smoothly.
Although she was clearly bragging, I believed her when she said she made things run smoothly. She was a doctor herself, after all and knew how to deal with that sort of thing. In being completely truthful, it was probably best she was there. Sam and Paul are both Executives of a pretty big company about half a state away, and I'm a writer. I doubt there's much any of us could do.
'Chris!'� Paul said as he came back from the restroom. As walked over to me, he pulled up his zipper on his jeans. He must have forgotten till now.
He, like Sam, gave me a big hug. 'I'm almost surprised you're here. It's been almost a year.'�
'Yeah, but it's dad. I had to.'�
'Well, I'm glad you're here. Dad would be just as glad too, if he was conscious.'�
'It's bad?'� I ask.
'Oh yeah. Terrible. The doc said he doubts he'll make it through the night.'�


I go outside for a smoke. I don't smoke, but Paul does, and offered a cigarette. Said it helps calm nerves. I doubt it, but it at least it takes my mind off things a bit.
Dad and I had always been close, till a year ago, when we got in an argument over my sister. She'd screamed at me over a little joke I made, and it really ticked me off. Dad tried to intervene but I yelled at him to. Yelled about how he always seemed to favor his 'precious little girl'� and how my brothers and I always played second fiddle to her.
I stormed off and left.
It certainly wasn't the best Christmas ever.
That was two years ago. The only ones I've spoken to since then had been Sam and Paul, and even with them, we scarcely talked. They thought I'd overreacted and maybe I had.
Who am I really joking here? Of course I had. The last I saw my dad, I screamed at him and stormed out. Now he's laying there on a bed, waiting to slip into the great big Nothing.
I put out the cigarette, remembering why I never smoked them, because they were just plain crap, and went back to my dad's room. Sam and Paul had both left for home, leaving my dad and Lucy.
'Hey, Luce'� I say to her quietly. It was four in the morning.
'What do you want,'� she said, both bothered by the fact I was talking to her and tired from sleep depravation.
'I'm sorry about what I said two years ago.'�
She stared at me for a whole minute, and then finally cut through the silence with 'You should be.'�
I yell. 'I should be? I'm trying to mend our relationship here, and you pull that on me?'� I don't give her a chance to respond and leave.


I've always had a special ability. It seems that if I tried hard enough I could persuade someone to do whatever I want. The only ones it never seemed to work on were close family members, like my brothers, sister, dad, and mom before she died. Everyone else, including cousins and grandparents seemed to be effected by it though.
At first, I didn't really notice. I've never been much of a pushy person and never really tried to get my way much, but I knew for sure, when I was in high school that I had this ability.
There was this boy. Harry was his name if I recall. He actually liked to be called Scary Harry, and most people went with that, but not me. It sounded ridiculous.
'Hey Sissy Chrissie,'� he had once said to me. His penchant for unimaginative names was actually one of the closest things to a redeeming quality he actually had. 'Hey, Missy Sissy Chrissie. You're one smart little girl aren't you. Highest grade on the test. Isn't that right, Sissy Chrissie. I think you deserve a big fat reward. '
At that he pushed me into a locker. I'd had quite enough by then and punched him in the face. Blood began to gush from his nose and he, in anger grabbed my head, brought me to the ground, and prepared to smash my skull into the floor till their wasn't much left, but before he could, I yelled out. 'Don't do it!'� And he stopped. He was still angry at me, and if you asked him today, (and he'd probably still remember, although we're both in our thirties now. People like him can only seem to live in the glory days of their past, and not the disappointment of their present.) he'd probably say he had no idea what stopped him. And at the time, neither did I.
The principle, brought me to his office when he found out what I'd done. 'You're a good boy usually, Chris Sharpe, but you know I have no choice but to call your father now. He'll be very disappointed.'�
I sat there, both ashamed of how disappointed my father would be and proud of myself for finally giving Harry what he deserved.
The principle began dialing my father's number, and all I could think to do was to say something. 'Mr. Harris, please don't. Don't call my father.'�
Mr. Harris looked up at me and said, 'You know what? You're a good kid. I think we'll let it slide this time.'�
At that moment, I knew I had something. Mr. Harris was a nice man, but never did bend the rules for a student. He followed them strictly no matter who the student was and never, absolutely ever bent the rules.
I tested it out later, just to be sure, but it was true. I really could persuade people easily (except for close family members, as I've already said.) with just words from my mouth. I tried not to use it too often, but it always came in handy when I was late with rent money or a dollar short at the supermarket
This power even helped me publish my first novel, although I'd like to think I could have published it without help, I just wanted to speed the process along.
All this goes as explanation as to why Mr. Shade was waiting for me in my apartment when I arrived home from the hospital.



When I arrived at my door, still angry at how things went with my sister, I fumbled with my keys and opened my door.
I was surprised to see a man in my kitchen cooking himself an omelet.
When I saw him I let out a bit of yelp of surprise. 'Who are you?'� I demanded.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Chris. I forgot to let you know I was stopping by,'� he said and extended a gloved hand. 'I'm Charles Shade.'�
'What are you doing here?'� I ask, with anger clearly in my voice.
'Oh yes, why I'm here.'� He seemed absolutely giddy. He was a short man, at least, shorter than myself. He stood at five feet and eight inches. He wore a black suit that obviously cost at the very least twice as much as my car. He had curly red hair and wore small rimless glasses. 'I'm here to help your father.'�
'And what can you do for my dad?'� I ask skeptically
'I can heal him,'� he said in a very as-a-matter-of-fact tone.
'Get out of my house. Now.'� I was angry. The man wanted to somehow take advantage of me and my family and I wasn't about to let that happen.
'Trying to persuade me to leave?'� He asked with a grin. 'It's not going to work on me. I'm like you. I can do things others can't. Like heal a man with a weak and nearly useless heart.'�
I was very surprised. I was beyond surprised. I was completely and absolutely perplexed. 'OK. Say what you need to.'�
'All I want you to do, is a favor for me, with all your powers, and I'll heal your father.'�
'What kind of favor?'�
'I want you to call these three men I have listed on this sheet of paper,'� he hands me the sheet. 'And tell them to commit suicide.'�
'What? No, that's crazy. I'd never do such a thing.'�
'Really? Not even for your dad? These aren't good people. I'm part of an organization of people like you, who have subtle differences about us that separate us from the normal flock. We're a rare breed. Only one out of every twenty million people is like us, and those of us who have gotten together do what we do for the greater good. And let me tell you, the greater good is to get rid of these men.'�
I look at him, and don't doubt him at all that he can heal my father. I'm desperate. 'I'll do it.'�
He hands me a cell phone that he says is untraceable. I call each of the three men and tell them to kill themselves. Each time I do I feel like I'm going to cry and fall apart, but I do it. When I finish I look at him and say, 'now do what you promised.'�
' Fine, fine, I will, but you must kill one more person for me.'�
By this time, I just wanted to save my father and be done with this man. 'I'll do it. Who must I call.
'Your sister?'�
'What? No, no, no, no. That's insane. I can't kill her. She's family.'�
'You also hate her. This is for the betterment of you. You know she hurts you with her selfishness and cruelty. This will help you.'�
I start to believe him and I call her.
'Hello?'� She asks. I'd obviously just woken her up.
'Lucy,'� I say.
'Chris? Why are you calling me this early in the morning?'�
I don't want to answer her. I just want to finish this. For dad. 'Lucy, I want to tell you. . .'� I stop. 'I want to tell you to. . .I want to tell you I love you.'� I hang up and see Mr. Shade's big grin disappear.
'What are you doing?! Do you not want your dad to be healed? Do you not care about him?'�
I realized finally what Shade was. He wasn't like me. He was a vampire, but not the kind that haunts the mountains of Transylvania and fed of blood. No, he fed off distrust, dishonesty, and disloyalty. He may have been able to heal my father some how, but whatever he did would probably have caused even more problems. He obviously lied about the group he was apart of. I could, somehow, sense he had lied. I was most likely the only one out there like me. Most of what he said was a lie, and I was angry about it. I quickly turned and punched him in the face, and he quickly crumpled to the floor. I ran from my apartment, guilty for what he had made me do, but proud of myself for finally standing up to him. When I returned, he was gone.


After returning to my apartment, I knew I had to see my father. I went back to the hospital and I looked at him. His weak and frail body being supported by machines. 'Dad, I'm sorry I couldn't heal you.'� I looked at him and despair hit me again, but then a thought came to me. It'd never worked on family members before, but maybe, just maybe, my power could work on him just this once. It was worth trying.
'Dad, I want you to get better.'�

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