He lay on the operating table, nervous energy coursing through his body as he prepared to go under; the nitrous oxide coursing through his system serving to counteract this and put him to sleep. The surgeons assured him that the chance of something going wrong with an eye surgery was one in a million. In minutes, he was barely awake, the doctors in his view becoming fuzzy cartoon beings and within ten minutes he was out cold.
As soon as he was out, it began. They picked up their tools and cut into his eyes, beginning his surgery and hours later, with new eyes and a new view upon the world, he awoke. They wheeled him to the post-surgery intensive care unit, leaving him in the ward to rest. He dreamt of demons and hell’s devil spawn coming after him, the fiery pits of hell consuming the world and everyONE and everyTHING in it, be it animate or inanimate.
He woke screaming, nurses crowding around him. The bright hospital lights were on, the neon lights blinding him providing him with short relief from his horrible visions. His body spasmed continuously, his arms and legs jerking awkwardly in all directions and the whites of his eyes rolling into view. They screamed, demanding to know what was wrong; others calling for doctors and one rushing towards him, needle in hand. She screamed for the nurses to hold him down, others doing as she said. She ripped the covering off and jabbed it into his arm, his body instantly relaxing and the convulsions stopping. His head rolled and landed on the crisp white sheets, every crease visible to those lucid green eyes.
His shoulders stiff and his joints locked, he woke to people standing around him, talking quietly about his health and what could possibly be wrong. Upon his awakening the chatter ended, leaving the area deathly quiet. One of the people at the end of his bed stepped forward and introduced himself as Dr Mendoza. He was a tall, skinny Italian man with a slight accent. He declared that his body had had a negative reaction to the eyes that had been transplanted but that after emergency surgery, his body had stabilised and that no negative effects so far had occurred. After standing by as he was informed about all that had happened, the bystanders trickled out leaving him to rest.
Lying alone for a half hour, his mind drifted and he began to get up, intending to go for a walk and try to get better, to recover from the surgery as soon as he can. He slowly crawled up, swinging his feet over the edge onto the cold hospital floor, his feet stung from the contact. He grabbed the pole which held the monitor that showed his vitals and his fluids that slowly dripped into his body via a catheter.
He slowly exited his small cubicle in ward 3B, a nurse stationed at the desk just outside the entrance. He slowly walked through the sterile white halls, nurse stations positioned every twenty metres. He walked and walked, never stopping for breath until unknowingly, he ended up in the children’s section of the hospital. He walked and looked to the end of the hall where there some little children, probably around seven or eight, playing with the toys in the toy box. He approached them slowly with his sloppy gait, the smaller of the two calling out a greeting. “Hey kids!” he replied, watching them. He asked how they were when suddenly they started to look like demons, ethereal beings sent from hell.
One of the two looked up and with a stutter in his voice said “Mister, there’s something wrong with your eyes, they’re all red.” Saying that everything was alright, he continued to approach them, taking on a menacing look. The children, getting scared, let out a little squeal and ran into the room closest to them, from which a mother emerged beginning to ask a question, wondering what was happening. He stooped down, reaching into the colouring box and grabbed a pencil, shoving it into the woman’s hand. She let out a piercing scream, echoing through the halls of the hospital and bringing nurses running from all corners.
He saw nothing but fiery pits of hell and demons running around screaming. The nurses ran screaming, pooling around and trying to restrain him from continuing to assault the woman. They looked into his eyes and saw the fires of hell, nothing but burning hatred and despise for all that lives and all that has ever existed or will come to exist in this universe.
He was slowly restrained and carried back to his room, prevented from harming anyone else. Strapped to the bed, he slowly calmed down and stopped writhing and screaming. When he had calmed, they demanded to know what had caused him to assault that woman. He said that he had seen the fiery pits of hell and its underlings destroying the earth. And it had all begun with those eyes, those lucid green eyes.