CREEPYPASTA

A Trip To The Dentist Revealed Everything

"Here's hoping he found something," replied Doctor Winters.

He let out a grunt as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'll go check."

He waved as he left the room and disappeared into the hall.

Doctor Winters asked, "Do you mind if I take your vitals?"

I shrugged. She'd already done it three times that day, but I figured it was procedure. That, or she was hoping to find something she'd missed – something that might explain my memory loss. I didn't feel psychologically traumatized, so there had to be something else, right? She poked, prodded, had me stick my tongue out, the usual. I did as I was told and stayed still, until I heard the cop's voice all the way down the hall and strained my ears to listen. He sounded disturbed.

"What do you mean there's no trail?" he asked incredulously.

Another voice - I assume Denis' - answered, "I followed the tracks for about half a mile, straight to Branson's farm. That's where it stops. I mean, that's where it starts. Right there in the middle of the field. 'Aint no tire marks or anything around, either."

Were they talking about me? Surely not. I couldn't remember a farm.

The cop replied, "That's impossible. You sure there weren't any footsteps goi-"

"Look straight ahead please," the doctor said.

Her voice was louder than his, drowning out the end of his sentence. I obeyed, losing track of the conversation happening in the hall as Doctor Winters finished her examination.

After a while, two cops – one I recognized, the other likely Denis –, came back in. They didn't mention the farm, but they did ask more questions. I had no answers for them. If the video hadn't triggered the memories, I didn't think anything would. They finished writing their report and left me be. I was discharged from the hospital the next day.

What happened that night remained a mystery to me for months after, leaving me with a constant soundtrack of dread playing in the back of my mind. Every night when I put my head on my pillow, I'd find myself unable to sleep; too worried I'd wake up somewhere else. I searched my head for any fragment of memory that might explain what happened, but found nothing. It's hard to get closure when you don't have any answers. But, as I found out today, sometimes it's better not to get closure, not to know the answers.

This morning, I went to the dentist to fix a broken tooth. As the chair slowly reclined and the oval light appeared above me, I felt a sudden twisting in my guts. I'm not afraid of dentists. Never have been, but there I was, feeling my armpits dampening and my hands trembling. It didn't fully hit me until the drill came out. The high-pitch whirring sound whipped the memories back into my mind as though the rubber band keeping them at bay had finally snapped.

It was unnaturally bright, like the ceiling and walls were made of neon lights. I could hear them buzzing so loud they sounded like a beehive. I tried to get up, but my body wouldn't budge. I couldn't move my head enough to see whether I was physically or chemically restrained. I could only lay there in silence. The temperature was strangely imperceptible, as though the atmosphere matched my body heat perfectly. There was no draft, no air conditioning, no heating.

I heard an odd, sludgy noise and caught movement in my peripheral vision. There was something standing in the light, but all I could see was its outline. At first, I thought the thin, elongated form which was wider near the top might have been a lamp of sorts, but when it moved, I realized I was wrong. It came closer, but instead of footsteps, I heard that same slippery noise like a slug on an amplifier. I remember the blanket of petrifying terror that wrapped itself around me as my eyes focussed on it. It was wrong. All wrong. It was like someone had tried to make a man out of melted caramel, its proportions stretched out in a mockery of the human form. Its torso was thin, its head was large and balloon-like, its skin was...I want to say a dark grey, but it was hard to pinpoint an exact color against the flood of yellow lights around us. I could see its large black eyes possibly staring at me, but it was impossible to tell what it was looking at since it had no irises. I just remember feeling as though it were inspecting and scrutinizing every piece of me like an expensive car.

It came right up to me and stretched an arm far out of my line of sight, coming back with a metallic object in its fingerless hand. It was only when they flared out that I realized the creature had extra arms. They were paper thin and tucked so close to its already narrow body, you wouldn't have known they were there until they were needed. I couldn't tell you how many there were in total, but I counted at least five as it leaned over me and grabbed hold of the table I was on. The object in its hand came to life, producing the familiar high-pitch whirring sound of a dentist drill. It wasn't going in my mouth, though. It was going in my head.

I felt a sharp sting as one of the arms out of my line of vision sliced a small cut on my temple. The drill slowly approached the fresh wound. I tried to thrash and fight back and scream, but my body refused to do anything but lie there like a useless slab of meat as the tool gently pressed against my bleeding cut. I felt the vibration through my cranium, but the process was surprisingly painless. I didn't know it then, but the creature was drilling a tiny hole through my skull.

The drill retracted, and I heard a clink as it was dropped on an unseen surface.

In my mind, I begged for it to be over, but it wasn't. The creature pulled out a long, thin metallic rod made up of an unusual, blueish, malleable alloy that bent at the lightest touch. With three of its arms, it carefully shaped the rod into a semi-circle, and then leaned in close to my head. I already knew what it was planning to do, and I was all the more terrified for it.

Have you ever threaded a needle? Can you do it in one shot?

Yeah, well neither could this creature.

I could feel the metal edge poking at my head trying to insert itself into the tiny hole the creature had drilled, but missing the mark several times before succeeding. You know, I didn't think it possible to feel one's brain. I guess I assumed there weren't any nerves in there? But, as the metallic rod explored the caverns of my skull, I felt every excruciating, violating second of it. It felt like a finger digging for lint far too deep inside one's bellybutton. It was a part of my body I always knew I had, but knew I shouldn’t feel.

It was worse coming out than it was coming in, though mostly because I felt a mass coming out with it. I remember a flash of panic as I thought to myself Oh my god, it's taking part of my brain. Thankfully, as the rod came out, something else - something other than grey matter - came out with it. A thin black cylinder had been fished out of my brain. The creature dropped it carefully into one of its many hands, then slithered out of sight to do god knows what.

The already bright room became brighter. The buzz of neon lights became...buzzier. My mind became fuzzy.

I tore out of the chair, screaming as my dentist stared at me in shock. I didn't explain or apologize, just ran out of there and drove straight home, where I'm now sitting.

I wish I could say it's over, you know? I wish I could say this was the first and last time, but I have this horrible, creeping feeling in my guts. For one thing, if that creature took something out, it had to have put it in first, and thinking back now, I remember my parents telling me I used to sleepwalk as a child. They’d find me wandering the neighbor's field in the dead of the night. I'd always have a tiny cut on me somewhere. On my head, on my arm, on my stomach...they figured I kept getting nicked on a nail in the fence or something.

I wonder how many of those tiny black cylinders are still in my body, and how long before that thing comes back to collect them.