Believe Me, Marshall

A short-short story by Adrian Hoppel

“A ghost ship filled with cannibal rats is floating somewhere off the coast of Scotland.”

“Marshall. Look at me.”

“It’s there. It’s coming.”

“That’s enough, Marshall.”

“But it’s there. I was on it. The rats…they are everywhere. Rolling over each other like waves. Crawling, scratching, biting…eating. They just rip into each other…”

“Marshall, please, calm down.”

“Why are you all staring at me? How…where am I?”

“You had another episode, Marshall.”

“Episode? What does that mean? How did I get off the boat?”

“There is no boat, Marshall.”

“Fuck you. I was ON it. Locked in some kind of box. A clear box. There were ghosts. Moving. And rats…I need to go. To get out!”

“Marshall, you are not going anywhere. Not yet. Just try to relax.”

“Untie me!”

“Marshall, listen to me. I need you to relax. You are safe. You had another episode. We are here to help you.”

“Fuck you! Let…let me out of here!”’

“Listen to me, Marshall. Will you listen to me? I need to tell you something.”

“This isn’t right! Something’s not right. Untie me!”

“Marshall, listen carefully to what I am about to say. Are you listening?”

“No. Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything. Just…”

“You’re bleeding, Marshall. Pulling on your restraints won’t help; they’re too strong. I can help you, though. But I need you to listen. Stop fighting. Listen now. Please.”

“What?”

“Are you listening, Marshall?”

“I said what?”

“What I’m going to say is very important. I need to know you are focused, that I have your full attention. Do I have your full attention, Marshall?”

“Jesus, man. I’m tied to the goddamned bed. I’m listening. What the fuck. Go.”

“That’s good, Marshall. That’s good. Here’s what I have to say: sleigh ride.”

Marshall collapsed back onto the bed, eyes open, unmoving. His arms and legs relaxed, the restraints cutting into his arms went slack, his naked body deathly still.

“Marshall? It’s me again. The Doctor. You are safe now.”

Marshall stared at the stark white ceiling with unfocused eyes, unresponsive.

“Marshall. I want to tell you a story. It is a special story because it is the truth. I am going to tell you this story and I want you to believe it, OK? There is no boat, Marshall. There are no rats. You’ve never been to Kiev, Marshall. You’v never held a gun. You are a salesman in Wisconsin, Marshall. You have a wife and two dogs. You’ve never been to Kiev, Marshall. There is no boat. There are no rats. I want you to believe me, Marshall. I want you to go home. But you have to believe me, Marshall. I need you to believe me. Believe me, Marshall. Now sleep.”

Marshall’s eyes snapped shut, his breathing instantly deep and slow. He was wheeled out of the room.

“That was more intense, Doctor.”

“I know. It’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“What now?”

“Put him back on the boat.”