Gloomy Bathroom

by Ken S.
(Albany, NY)

I never enjoyed waking up in the middle of the night with a full bladder. I would lay there staring at the ceiling, hoping the sensation would magically go away. But it never would.

Occasionally, I would fall back asleep and make it through the entire night till the morning sunlight came through my window. However, most of the time, I would force myself to get out of my warm bed and make the trip to the bathroom. This required me to walk down the dark, cold hallway, usually in bare feet because I was too lazy to pull a pair of socks over my pale white extremities.

Finally, I would make it to the small, gloomy bathroom at the end of the foyer, would lift the toilet seat, and relieve myself. Ahhhhh, that felt good, I whispered to myself. Now I can get back to my warm, comfortable bed and get some sleep.

On this particular night, I woke up with my bladder in pain. Since I knew I had no choice in the matter, I threw my covers back and made the walk down the dark, cold hallway and into the dismal little bathroom. I lifted the toilet seat with one hand, while rubbing my sleepy eyes with the other. I forcefully released my full bladder into the bowl and realized there was no splashing sound. Instead, there was a dull, squishy sound, as if I was relieving myself into some damp mud. I looked down and saw a human head in my toilet. I immediately stopped peeing. At first, I couldn't believe it, so I rubbed my eyes some more and looked down again. It was still there, with its eyes open, staring back at me with hazy, milky dead eyes. Now the realization set in and I panicked. I ran out of the bathroom and down the hall, and dove back into my bed, where I laid shivering in fright.

What in the world was going on? Whose head was in my toilet? I looked at the clock. It read 3:30 am. I didn't move. The thought of a human head in my toilet terrified me, but what could I do? I had to wait till morning to go check again, or should I get up and call the police now? I didn't know what to do. I just laid there in my bed, quivering, wishing for the light of day to come.