The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) by Lindsey Goddard
Authors: Lindsey Goddard
Tags: thriller, Horror, Paranormal, Short Stories, supernatural, Monster, Ghosts, Anthology, collection, scary
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of her wrists
and ankles turned white as she fought futilely against the
restraints. A mere girl of nineteen years old, the sight of her
struggling on the floor of the wooden box caused Frederick's heart
to swell with remorse. Too much white showed in her panicked blue
eyes. He wanted to soothe her, tell her it would be all right.
“Let me out! Let me out!” she screamed.
Frederick felt the doctor's presence at his
back. A large hand touched his shoulder. “Silence her.”
The girl sobbed inconsolably as a rivulet of
snot formed a thin, slimy trail down her cheek. Even still, she
is beautiful , he thought. Frederick gulped. This part of his
job brought him no joy. The task at hand was just that—a task.
Something that had to be done.
She made no effort to bite his fingers as he
popped the ball gag into her mouth. She merely whimpered, closing
her eyes and trembling on the rough wooden plank. His sympathy only
deepened as he eyed the scars on his hands where countless other
patients had sunk their teeth in a last-ditch effort to escape the
gag. This one was different: docile, full of woe. Perhaps water
shock treatment was too extreme.
Frederick looked at Dr. Walters in his crisp,
white physician's coat, always starched and ironed to perfection.
Three decades his senior, the man bristled with energy. He paced
the floor, eyes alight with anticipation, salt and pepper hair
cropped close to his scalp.
“What did she do?” Fredrick's question caught
the pacing doctor off guard. He stopped moving and blinked his eyes
slowly, his train of thought derailed. He glared at his assistant,
who gazed compassionately at the face of patient 5572 as she
whimpered through the ball gag.
“Don't be fooled by her pretty face, my dear
boy. She attacked two of our guards last night.”
Frederick gulped. He ran a hand through his
wild, red hair and double-checked the leather restraints. “It's
okay,” he said, attempting to calm her. “The gag will prevent too
much water from entering your lungs. You'll be fine... good as new
when this is over.” His words had no effect on her rattled nerves.
She continued to shiver, weeping with her eyelids shut against the
horror.
His gaze lingered one last time on her plump
lips and rosy cheeks, her long eyelashes slick with tears. Then he
stood, shook off the effects of her beauty, and closed the lid of
the coffin-like box. He flipped two copper latches, one at each
side of the box, locking the lid into place. A myriad of holes had
been drilled through the planks. He detected a flurry of movement
from inside as she gyrated against the straps, to no avail.
Candlelight reflected on the glistening
surface of the water as Frederick turned his attention to the pool.
It was more of a tank, really, dug into the ground level of the
asylum at Dr. Walter's request. The water must be so cold. I am
cold just standing here above the ground.
He shook the thought from his head. Never
mind such trivial things as the temperature of the water, the
girl's fear. This would be over soon, and she would thank them.
She'd be fixed.
Dr. Walter's methods had been successful in
the past: bringing a patient to the brink of death and then
reviving them before they passed away. This process, though
frightening for the persons involved, provided a brand new start
for the mentally ill. It was akin to wiping their slate clean,
giving a second chance at life. As if the water itself washed their
insanity away.
“We must lower it.” The doctor's booming
voice echoed through the room. The girl in the box screamed a
guttural protest from deep within her chest, the sound muffled as
it tried to leave her lips.
Thick ropes attached to the sides of the box
began to tighten as a device overhead slowly moved. Nothing more
than a heavy pole affixed to a Y-shaped base, the device resembled
a well-sweep, the kind used for raising and lowering buckets of
water from a well, only
and ankles turned white as she fought futilely against the
restraints. A mere girl of nineteen years old, the sight of her
struggling on the floor of the wooden box caused Frederick's heart
to swell with remorse. Too much white showed in her panicked blue
eyes. He wanted to soothe her, tell her it would be all right.
“Let me out! Let me out!” she screamed.
Frederick felt the doctor's presence at his
back. A large hand touched his shoulder. “Silence her.”
The girl sobbed inconsolably as a rivulet of
snot formed a thin, slimy trail down her cheek. Even still, she
is beautiful , he thought. Frederick gulped. This part of his
job brought him no joy. The task at hand was just that—a task.
Something that had to be done.
She made no effort to bite his fingers as he
popped the ball gag into her mouth. She merely whimpered, closing
her eyes and trembling on the rough wooden plank. His sympathy only
deepened as he eyed the scars on his hands where countless other
patients had sunk their teeth in a last-ditch effort to escape the
gag. This one was different: docile, full of woe. Perhaps water
shock treatment was too extreme.
Frederick looked at Dr. Walters in his crisp,
white physician's coat, always starched and ironed to perfection.
Three decades his senior, the man bristled with energy. He paced
the floor, eyes alight with anticipation, salt and pepper hair
cropped close to his scalp.
“What did she do?” Fredrick's question caught
the pacing doctor off guard. He stopped moving and blinked his eyes
slowly, his train of thought derailed. He glared at his assistant,
who gazed compassionately at the face of patient 5572 as she
whimpered through the ball gag.
“Don't be fooled by her pretty face, my dear
boy. She attacked two of our guards last night.”
Frederick gulped. He ran a hand through his
wild, red hair and double-checked the leather restraints. “It's
okay,” he said, attempting to calm her. “The gag will prevent too
much water from entering your lungs. You'll be fine... good as new
when this is over.” His words had no effect on her rattled nerves.
She continued to shiver, weeping with her eyelids shut against the
horror.
His gaze lingered one last time on her plump
lips and rosy cheeks, her long eyelashes slick with tears. Then he
stood, shook off the effects of her beauty, and closed the lid of
the coffin-like box. He flipped two copper latches, one at each
side of the box, locking the lid into place. A myriad of holes had
been drilled through the planks. He detected a flurry of movement
from inside as she gyrated against the straps, to no avail.
Candlelight reflected on the glistening
surface of the water as Frederick turned his attention to the pool.
It was more of a tank, really, dug into the ground level of the
asylum at Dr. Walter's request. The water must be so cold. I am
cold just standing here above the ground.
He shook the thought from his head. Never
mind such trivial things as the temperature of the water, the
girl's fear. This would be over soon, and she would thank them.
She'd be fixed.
Dr. Walter's methods had been successful in
the past: bringing a patient to the brink of death and then
reviving them before they passed away. This process, though
frightening for the persons involved, provided a brand new start
for the mentally ill. It was akin to wiping their slate clean,
giving a second chance at life. As if the water itself washed their
insanity away.
“We must lower it.” The doctor's booming
voice echoed through the room. The girl in the box screamed a
guttural protest from deep within her chest, the sound muffled as
it tried to leave her lips.
Thick ropes attached to the sides of the box
began to tighten as a device overhead slowly moved. Nothing more
than a heavy pole affixed to a Y-shaped base, the device resembled
a well-sweep, the kind used for raising and lowering buckets of
water from a well, only
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