Ever since I was young I have hated doctors. I was almost never sick so when I had to go to the doctor that meant one thing. Needles. I will never know why I fear needles. Maybe it was something other than my own nature that made me fear them. My own dreams. Along with my fear of needles I was plagued by terrible nightmares. I would find myself in a run down old hospital. It was empty, dark, and isolated. But I knew I was never alone. It would always be there. I never knew what it was and I don't think I ever will. The gloves had long jagged rusted needles that dripped a foul red substance. Then there was a black silk robe. It also had a Spanish hat. But what was most disturbing was it's mask. At least that's what I tell my self it is. It was pale, cracked, and crow like. Every night I'd have that dream. Minutes felt like hours. Every night I'd have to face that dream and it'd be one step closer to me. Then the dreams just...stopped. The dreams had stopped but the nightmare lived on. One morning I woke up and saw it across the street. It would vanish then be...one step closer.