Does an ugly man, commit ugly deeds? Or does the ugly reflect the inner man? He aimed to find out. Clutching the matchbook with Dr. Turn’s address he scanned the houses lining Elm Street. He would find the good doctor and force him to fix his face, right the wrongs and make it so he could walk down the street without people backing away.  He only did ugly things when provoked, perhaps that could change.

When the banker kicked him away from his door, claiming he would scare the customers, he grabbed his throat. When he remembered to release the gasping man, he was no longer breathing. The same went for the girl who threw rocks, the old man claiming he was “too ugly to live” and the father who shooed him from the park, afraid that he would scare the children. They all met the same, unfortunate end. Dr. Turn was his last hope. If the doctor could turn his face into a thing of beauty, the ugly would be erased from his life.

Faced with a mad man and a gun, the good doctor promised to work on the man, knowing he could end his life with a simple slip of the knife. But he had taken an oath and wasn’t ready to wander down that path. Months passed as he wrestled with his conscience and plied his skills.

He trembled the day he opened the door to let his patient walk among his fellow-man. Following close behind, a sweaty hand clutching the scalpel hidden in his pocket he watched and waited. His patient seemed to have a new view of the world. He nodded and exchanged pleasantries with everyone he passed. He opened doors for the ladies and apologized if he bumped into a preoccupied worker. Feeling a bit relaxed, the Dr. pulled his hand away from the scalpel. His patient had gone almost ten blocks and was doing fine. He smiled as a beautiful girl stepped around the corner to shower attention on his patient. He never heard what was said, he only saw her moving mouth and the anger that gripped the man’s face. His patient reached out like a cat, gripping her throat as he forced her into the alley. Grabbing the scalpel Dr. Turn followed, stopping the heartbeat of the man he tried so hard to help. Sometimes, ugly is just ugly, inside or out, he thought. Somethings can’t be cut out.

  1. I was think ugly is ugly inside and out when I first started reading. A good story.

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