The Visitor
Kizar stared at the open doorway, she stared into the dimly lit corridor leading down to the lobby. She looked around the white room from her bed. The television was off, the noise was constant and annoying so she decided not to look at it at all during her stay; her sneakers were by the window, along with her bag of clothes she came in with. She looked out the window and could see the sun going down. She clutched the sheets. Her eyes were bugging out of her head; she was going insane just from the thought of the darkness falling over the world once again.
Because she knew she'd be visited once more.
Kizar, a transfer student to the American University in Washington D.C., had fallen and broken her leg. She had been in the hospital for a whole week, and every night, the ominous figure she referred to only as, The Doctor, had come each night, working her over with tests that left her exhausted, sweaty, and unnerved. When she asked who the doctor was, no one knew anything about it.
“You shouldn't even be having tests done on you Miss Kizar,” her physician, Dr. Fithrow said. “We already know what's going on with you. You just need to stop wiggling your legs, and let your bones heal.”
“But I can't if he keeps performing these tests on me!”
“You are probably just dreaming,” Fithrow said with a wave of his hand, “people move about when they sleep.” He looked out at the sky, darkening with dusk, he looked at his watch. “I will return in the morning,” he walked to the doorway, “good night Miss Kizar.” He closed the door.
Though she knew that she didn't need any tests done on her, The Doctor did not care. And like clockwork, at eleven fifty-two, the darkly dressed, black veiled figure entered the room. He nodded at Kizar who narrowed her Omani eyes and told him to leave. He shook his head and walked over to Kizar's foot. Her leg was wrapped in avast, and was suspended in the air by wires, keeping her from moving it about as it healed.
“Sir,” she said desperately, her eyes wide and terrified, “please, I don't ant anymore tests done on me!”
“Podobromhidrosis is a very common ailment, Kizar,” He said as he took out a bottle of liquid soap and a dark cloth. “There are many ways to cure yours.” He poured some soap on his fingers and began to lather it onto her sole. Kizar clenched her teeth and strained her neck to turn her head into the pillows. She began kicking her fee foot wildly as she giggled and snorted, turning her face one way, then the other.
“What a ticklish Omani you are.” The Doctor hissed as he wiggled his slick soapy fingers between her toes, making Kizar's beautiful eyes shoot open and a crooked grin grow across her face.
“P-Please, don't...” She begged.
“An, but I must.” He replied as he grabbed her other foot. She struggled to pull back.
“No, no!”
“Ticklish?” He asked.
“Very! Please don't do this!”
“Silly girl, I already knew this.” He doused her foot in bluish soap and began thoroughly massaging it into her violently squirming foot. Kizar's face clenched up.
“YEEEHAHAHA!!” She squealed as she jerked her foot back and forth, the visitor's tight grip only brought him along with the foot. He was like an itch she couldn't scratch, knew it, and profited from it.
Kizar wasn't broken, but she had no shame in cracking an idiotic grin when she felt that tingly sensation that meant on of two things: Something was funny, or something tickled like Hell. This time, it was the latter, though she dearly wished for the former. She dearly wished this were all a dream induced by the anasthesia, but she knew it wasn't true. In her heart, she cried.
The visitor to the room took out two soft bristled brushes and waved them in Kizar's face, mockingly. Kizar's feet were already slippery with soap, When she saw the brushes, she almost cried.
“No, no! Doc please don't do this!” The Doctor went to the sink and turned it on, wetting the brushes. He looked at Kizar probably smiling as he watched her squirm and whine and beg while he slowly dampened the brushes. He then brought the brushes over to the bed. He held them in front of her foot, letting some residual drolplets of water fall on her foot, tumble down her sole which curled and flexed as the water traveled, and hit the floor.
“Doc, come on Doc, please, in the name of God DON'T DO THIS!”
Too late.
The Doctor's brushes hit Kizar's soapy sole, and Kizar broke down. She arched her back and twisted to the right as best as she could. She then slammed back on the mattress and kicked her free foot in different directions.
“GAAAHAHAHAAA!!!” Kizar screamed as she strugled to free her tightly bound leg from the contraption by shaking it back and forth. The leg's pain was no match for her outrageously sensitive skin. Kizar's eyes were huge and darting about desperately as the visitor continued washing her foot. Relishing in every damnable moment of it. When he finished with the bound foot, The Doctor began on the left one.
“OMIGOSH NOOOOOO!” Kizar cried just before she slammed her head back into the pillow and bucked on the bed and cackled madly while holding her belly as she felt it would surely burst from all the laughter. “HEHAHAHAHAHAAA!!” Tears rolled down Kizar's cheeks which were growing red from exertion. Her pretty white teeth shined like diamonda in her beautifully tortured mouth. For five minutes, Kizar's brain was filled to bursting with signals calling for more laughter, “He's tickling your toes!” “Your sole is getting sweeped!” “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!!!” Kizar could do nothing but scream and scream and scream as her foot was dipped into a sample of Hell.
And then the doctor stopped brushing the feet. He brought over a basin and rinsed each foot off. Then he took out a towel. He began rubbing the towel along Kizar's soles. Kizar squirmed and cursed the man as she roared with titillation. Her nerves were aflame with laughter inducing signals. She fell for a moment, into silent laughter. It was like watching a silent movie in technicolor.
After the visitor had stopped drying her soles, he let her rest for ten minutes. In that time, he took out his next tools. A long yellow fluffy feather. A bottle of baby oil with rose petals. An electric toothbrush. After the ten minutes were up, he proceeded to feather her feet with the feather; she didn't react much. Just pulled on the bed.
The Doctor moved toward the back of the bed and put the electric toothbrush under Kizar's chin. As soon as the buzzing began, Kizar's helpless laughter drowned out the engine of the small machine. Kizar's cheeks were flushed red, with both embarrassment at being humbled to such an extent and exhaustion from extensive laughter. Kizar was obviously more ticklish on the tip of her chin than anywhere else on her body, and The Doctor exploited that vulnerability until she couldn't feel the sensations. And then he moved his dark gloved hands down her sides, poking anprodding and stroking and diddling her sensitive ribs, causing her to arch her back slightly at each sudden graze of his fingers along hher torso. The whistle of air between her clenched teeth precluded more laughter, and all night it would continue, until ten minutes before sunrise. Then the doctor, as slowly, calmly, as it had entered, it would pick up its supplies, and leave the room.
Kizar didn't sleep much anymore. Her nights were filled with titillation.
And tonight wold be the same, and Kizar dreaded it. She looked outside the window to see it was growing darker by the second. Soon dusk would be upon the world and the visitor would make its way here, and lay its damnable hands along her sensitive form. Chills ran through her body, and she clenched the bed, she had to get out. She had to leave before he got her again. She was so exhausted, but she knew she had to go. She rang the nurse's station.
“Hello,” a young man in a clean white uniform entered the room. “How are you Kizar?”
“I want to leave.”
“Why?”
“I don't like this place. I want to leave.”
“Alright, but it will take some time to get the permissions of your doctor.”
“I don't care how long it takes, just get me out of here.”
“Certainly,” the young man turned on his heels and marched off down the hall. Kizar sighed and kicked the bed with her free foot. She didn't want to wait for the doctor to give her permission to leave. She stretched to reach the hanging ankle. She couldn't reach it.
She tried again, the same result.
The dark figure entered quietly as she continued to reach for her foot. Kizar stretched her arms to their limit as she bent forward, but to no avail. As she was about to give up, she noticed that the sun had gone down. Her eyes widened, and time seemed to go slowly. Her eyes switched focus from the dominant image of the night in the window, to the secondary image; the image of her bent forward, and behind her, the menacing dark figure with its hands at her sides.
“No...” Kizar gasped.
The figure's fingers clamped down on her ribs, and Kizar slammed back into the visitor's warm embrace, cackling and screaming. Her eyes shut tightly, her cheeks flushed red, tears flying in every direction; she arched her back as the visitor moved its fingers down her ribs, stimulating each one with a dexterous move of pinching and wiggling the rib.
“YEEEEEEE!!!” She squealed as the fingers diddled each rib with maddening effect. “Stop it, please! I can't stand you doing this to me! Please,” She broke down into more laughter as the fingers went under her gown and danced along her belly. She twisted right and left, bucked multiple times, screamed and cursed, and yet nothing could dissuade the fingers of the visitor who for some reason delighted in torturing the young middle eastern student.
“Please! No more! Pleeeeaaaase!!!” She broke into sobs, but that didn't stop the visitor. It continued for minutes afterward, until he stopped suddenly, and left the room. Kizar fell to the bed and heaved and sobbed. This was the worst session yet. She knew she had to get out now. She had to because if not, she feared she might go crazy.
The door opened, and Kizar screamed, the nurse's voice interrupted her.
“What the devil is going on here?” He asked as he came in the room. “Your heart rate is sky high on the monitors outside.”
“Where is the doctor?”
“He's coming up to see you,” he said. “What has been going on here?”
“There;s this man, he keeps coming in here and tickling me. I can't stand it!” She cried with eyes tearing up, “I don't like being tickled, it's like thousands of ants running through my veins, it's terrifying, it's horrible, I think I'm gonna go crazy if I get tickled anymore!” She broke into sobs again. “Why am I being tickled?”
“I have no idea,” the nurse said, “it's possibly a dream,”
“This isn't a dream!” Kizar shot, “it happens every night at sunset!”
“You're usually asleep at sunset.”
“I'm usually getting the Hell tickled out of me!” There was a knock at the door. The nurse turned to look and nodded.
Inside walked one of the doctors. He was tall, thin, and wore his hair in a long black ponytail. He wore a cassock, and carried a pen and a clipboard with him. He looked at Kizar, smiled and greeted her. Kizar's eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Good evening. I'm here to check your leg. Before we send you out, we must see that the bone had heeled properly and that your nerves are working correctly.” He went to the suspended leg and felt the calf bone. He nodded his head, and went up and down the calf. “It seems to be working well. Kizar, can you feel it when I do this?” He tickled the sole of her foot. Kizar screamed and banged on the bed and screamed for him to stop. But he wouldn't.
“What are you doing?” Kizar shrieked as the fingers continued to dance along her wrinkly sole, “What the hell are you doing?!?”
“Stimulating your nerve endings to mke sure that the nerves are sending the messages correctly.”
“They're sending them just fine! Stop tickling me!”
“Tickle you more?” The doctor asked as he put his other hand to the same foot. Kizar screamed and pulled at the sheets as she kicked her free foot wildly about. “Grab her other foot and make sure she doesn't break it.” Attracted by the noise, two more doctors also entered, smiled and took a place by Kizars belly and ribs.
Kizar looked at the doctors as they watched the head doctor tickle her foot. Why weren't they doing anything? What the hell was their job here if they weren't going to help her? And then she realized it. She saw their fingers walking along the bed, leap onto her body, and started wiggling, digging and poking and prodding. And then the nurse got in on the act.
“NOOOOOO!!!” Kizar screamed as she pulled and strained and laughed hysterically, she shut her eyes and cried while laughing so hard she thought her lungs would pop out of her mouth and her belly would burst. And then it all stopped. She heard the voice of the nurse as he called her name and shook her. She looked up, it was mid day, and the nurse looked frightened.
“What's wrong Kizar?” he asked, “you were screaming in your sleep for the past five minutes.”
“Stop tickling me!” she cried, the nurse looked around.
“Who? Who's tickling you?”
“You are!” She said with tears in her eyes. “You're tickling the shit out of me!” She sobbed. “Stop doing it! NOW!”
“Oh my,” the nurse said as he left the room. Twenty minutes later, Two white coated men walked into her room, wheeled her out of the room on the bed and out of the ward. The nurse looked on sadly as Kizar was taking to the psychiatric ward.
“I wonder what she was talking about, tickling?”
“Indeed, tickling?” The cassock wearing doctor asked. “How silly.”
“I agree.” The two parted ways and went to their stations. No one saw it, but in the middle of the hall corridor, a transparent dark figure walked down the hall, tailing Kizar's bed.
