David Staiger Archives - Black Hare Press

52 Hours

November 23, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by David Staiger

Dr Nores emerged from the isolation lab exhausted, relieved, elated.

She’d dismissed her assistant four hours ago, ostensibly to sleep. This strain had been the most virulent they’d ever encountered. It spread rapidly, killed surely. Combating it had taken every
bit of focus and ingenuity.

But the vaccine worked. She knew that with professional—and personal—confidence. Ethics be damned. Just as well that Rebecca had not been there to witness.

52 hours.

With the guidelines issued, the world would be fine. Masks, distancing, travel bans. Surely civilisation had cherished a weekend off.

But why wasn’t anyone answering the phone?

David Staiger

David is an emerging fiction author, always on the lookout for new opportunities to expand his writing. His previous work has been featured in Festival of Fear from Black Ink fiction, and Year Four from Black Hare Press.

124

January 17, 2023/by Shawna Rowan

by David Staiger

Dr Reynolds shook his head insistently.

“Some patients, sadly, must be more fully restrained, for their own safety. This one attempted to eat his tongue the other day. Thus the dental guard.”

The reporter and her camerawoman each took a turn peering through the soundproofed safety glass before nodding absently and moving down the row of doors, continuing the impromptu tour.

Patient 124 studied his own reflection, correcting again that same disobedient hair, sparing a bare smile at the well-trussed figure in the room raging back at him.

Then he, too, moved along, leaving the good doctor to his fury.

David Staiger

David is an emerging fiction author, always on the lookout for new opportunities to expand his writing. His previous work has been featured in Festival of Fear, from Black Ink fiction and Year Four from Black Hare Press.

YEAR FOUR

January 12, 2020/by Black Hare Press

YEAR FIVE

January 11, 2020/by Black Hare Press

Tag Archive for: David Staiger

52 Hours

Dr Nores emerged from the isolation lab exhausted, relieved, elated.

She’d dismissed her assistant four hours ago, ostensibly to sleep. This strain had been the most virulent they’d ever encountered. It spread rapidly, killed surely. Combating it had taken every
bit of focus and ingenuity.

But the vaccine worked. She knew that with professional—and personal—confidence. Ethics be damned. Just as well that Rebecca had not been there to witness.

52 hours.

With the guidelines issued, the world would be fine. Masks, distancing, travel bans. Surely civilisation had cherished a weekend off.

But why wasn’t anyone answering the phone?

124

Dr Reynolds shook his head insistently.

“Some patients, sadly, must be more fully restrained, for their own safety. This one attempted to eat his tongue the other day. Thus the dental guard.”

The reporter and her camerawoman each took a turn peering through the soundproofed safety glass before nodding absently and moving down the row of doors, continuing the impromptu tour.

Patient 124 studied his own reflection, correcting again that same disobedient hair, sparing a bare smile at the well-trussed figure in the room raging back at him.

Then he, too, moved along, leaving the good doctor to his fury.

YEAR FOUR

YEAR FIVE

Tag Archive for: David Staiger

Dr Nores emerged from the isolation lab exhausted, relieved, elated.

She’d dismissed her assistant four hours ago, ostensibly to sleep. This strain had been the most virulent they’d ever encountered. It spread rapidly, killed surely. Combating it had taken every bit of focus and ingenuity.

But the vaccine worked. She knew that with professional—and personal—confidence. Ethics be damned. Just as well that Rebecca had not been there to witness.

52 hours.

With the guidelines issued, the world would be fine. Masks, distancing, travel bans. Surely civilisation had cherished a weekend off.

But why wasn’t anyone answering the phone?

Dr Reynolds shook his head insistently.

“Some patients, sadly, must be more fully restrained, for their own safety. This one attempted to eat his tongue the other day. Thus the dental guard.”

The reporter and her camerawoman each took a turn peering through the soundproofed safety glass before nodding absently and moving down the row of doors, continuing the impromptu tour.

Patient 124 studied his own reflection, correcting again that same disobedient hair, sparing a bare smile at the well-trussed figure in the room raging back at him.

Then he, too, moved along, leaving the good doctor to his fury.

She’d dismissed her assistant four hours ago, ostensibly to sleep. This strain had been the most virulent they’d ever encountered. It spread rapidly, killed surely. Combating it had taken every
bit of focus and ingenuity.