The toilet

When I walked into the toilet, I was pretty sure that I would come out alive…

When I walked into the toilet, I was pretty sure that I would be alive when I got out. But fate had something else in store for me. It was a huge public toilet, with elongated rows of plain white urinals, along with square wash basins with round taps that opened when you placed your hands beneath them. The wall was whitewashed, much like the mundane events that took place inside the toilet. The floor, which has been recently cleaned, was shining like a pearl. I almost slipped, but I caught one of the taps just in time to save me. Just as I touched the tap, a transparent fluid jetted downwards with force. The only noise now was that of the water running.

I headed to the urinals carefully, trying my best not to slip again on the lubricious floor. As soon as I reached, a wail rang out of one of the stalls. I ignored it, because I was no stranger to bathroom stall hysterics. I was startled, however, when the next cry reached my ears. This one was completely different from the first one. This one was much more high pitched and abrupt. My head swung in that direction, and my legs, as if they had a mind of their own, started moving rapidly towards that stall.

It was a normal stall, with a white door whose colour had withered over the years. The hinges had also worn out, and as I pulled it towards me it made a shrill creak. On the inside, there was nothing strange. On the cracked ceiling hung a single watt yellow bulb that spread a milky light. The tank glistened on the outside and gurgled on the inside. I made a quick mental note that it had been used recently. The toilet seat, with a wet, white cushion was shut close, but something was stopping it. With some effort, I managed to open it.

As soon as my eyes fell on the opening, I screamed with horror and collapsed backwards. I lay on the wet floor for a few moments to come to sense with what I had just seen. I got up and opened the lid again. At first, I retorted in disgust, but gradually I began to observe that infernal thing. It wasn’t the object itself that made it repugnant, but the unexpected position of it.

In the toilet beneath me, was a hand resting on the rim. There were only four fingers on this hand, and in place of the thumb, was a dark red blood clot ready to erupt. On all the other fingers, the nails were cut off ruthlessly and the flesh below them was rotting now. The knuckles had worn off just enough to be able to see the ivory white bones which had also deformed. The wrist had numerous bruises and gashes on it, and in one place the bone was fractured. The rest of the hand was either brutally cut off or shoved deeper in the toilet, hindering my view of it.

I didn’t know what to do now. Should I dial 911? Should I walk away like this was none of my business? Soon, that dilemma ended. Lost in my thought, I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching me. Now that I think about them, they were soft, as if someone was tiptoeing by, but there was a considerable amount of interval. I was still staring at the hand in disbelief, when the footsteps stopped right behind me. Suddenly, my head hurt like a tough stick’s butt hit me. Later, I had found out that my guess was not far off the reality. My head lurched forwards as a result of the hit and the world around me darkened.