That morning revolved around an unalterable sharp stinging pain in my leg. I tossed and turned in bed, tangled in my sheets, but I could not get the cramp to fade. Stumbling from my rusty discomforting mattress, I assumed this great agony would be easy to soon discard. I disregarded it as nothing more than a terrible ache; perhaps I slept the wrong way and applied too much pressure to my leg. Exhausted, I crept to my closet, and prepared to get dressed for work.
The first unfamiliar sight appeared when I rolled my socks over my ankle. I felt a swift unexpected bump greet the back of my thumb. I attempted to turn my ankle and get a better sight at what had caused it. I noticed a round circular bump, no larger than a quarter, resting on the back of my leg. The deformed skin seemed to be the most viable explanation of the agony I had earlier faced. I assumed it must have been nothing more than an inflamed bug bite.
Throughout the day at work, the only accentuated details I can recall are the discomforts this sore on my leg caused me. I consistently felt a sharp throbbing, sometimes a sharper pain than before, but it only grew more and more noticeable. Surprisingly unlike most bug bites, this irritation had no itchiness; I felt no need to scratch it the entire day.
When I pulled my sock off after getting home I noticed that the skin surrounding my ankle had become discolored and the bump that resided on my ankle had grown to almost double the previous size.
I had trouble shutting my eyelids as I rest in bed that evening. I didn't move due to the agony that arose from doing so. I just lay in bed unable to close my eyes, and unable to move. I vividly recall seeing the clock on my bedside table reach 4 in the morning before I finally fell into slumber.
My alarm woke me that morning. All I remember is how much I wish it didn't. At that moment I prayed it hadn't I prayed I was still sleeping. I wished that every second of that moment was nothing but a figment of my imagination I could soon disregard. But it wasn't. As my blaring alarm echoed through my room, my discontent at little sleep was the most minor of my issues.
I turned my head to recognize copies of the bumps on my ankle encompassing my arms. I lifted my shirt; the bumps were too many to count. As I peeled off my sheets and blankets, my gaze laid upon legs that were now inflamed in the bumps similar to those from the day before. I felt these painful irritations. I knew at that moment they weren't bug bites. Something much more peculiar was happening. I pressed my finger onto these mounds of my flesh.
Unlike the hard solid texture to a bug bite, these sores were squishy and almost felt as if they were air pockets of my skin. Regardless of this odd texture pain shook through my body when I pressed these irritated sections of my body. At this point I had the decision to skip work. I easily could have called in sick, and drove to the hospital to get my situation checked out. That would have been a smart decision, a great decision at that. I wish I would have made that decision, but I didn't.
My thought process continued to make the wrong choices. I had a chance to obtain a promotion due to my diligence and effort, and I wasn't going to let some simple bumps stand in my way. I had an obligation to prove to my company, sick or not I would be reliable. So I went to work.
On the car drive over the pain only sharpened and worsened. All these inflammations pumped more and more agony into my body. I barely had the ability to drive, and escaped near death collisions several times on my way to work. During the work day I experienced the worst performance in the span of my career. I had to lead a meeting, and present a newly found chart on the company’s statistics. I was forced to leave in the middle of my presentation due to those damned bumps. I fled to the bathroom, only to discover them spewing an unbelievable amount of pus. It was a thickly viscous yellow substance that reeked in its scent. I grabbed the paper towels in an attempt to contain this expulsion of fluid.
Unfortunately the wounds only gushed more and more of this plasma out. I was riveted by this occurrence. I wondered what was happening to me. In a matter of days I had transformed from a normal simple bland man, to where now I lay sobbing on the bathroom floor unable to plug the spewing mess from my body. I knew at this moment I would have to act on whatever was going on. I had a sudden change in mood. When I stood up from the floor I felt rather weary and light headed. As my gaze shifted to my toes I noticed the goo that flooded the bathroom floor. This substance that my body expelled now covered the floor in a mask of its slimy sticky presence. Bright yellow, it looked unnatural to be originating from my own body.
I decided the janitorial staff would be suited to wipe up the stinking mess I created. I opened the door of the bathroom, and began walking to my boss’ room, to explain the events leading up to today. However, before arriving at his door, I received bewildered expressions from my co-workers. They kept their gaze fixated on me with awe. I halted and swiftly rotated my head around the room, hastily scanning their faces. I then with an inflection of slight anger let out a shout asking "WHAT!?” The only response I received was a more discomforting silence than before.
I then peered in the same direction as the others, at myself. I was alarmed to discover the obscure sight they viewed. Unknowingly I was drenched in the gunk that had come from my body. The plasma was a darker hue of yellow now, and it seemed to be thicker than blood. I now shared a fearful expression with the rest of the room, and fled to my car.
I had no care for traffic, no worry for other cars on the road. The only issue I know let eat up my mind was these irritated patches on my skin. I arrived at the hospital shortly and stumbled in, nearly passing out. With little energy I arrived at the front desk. They made me fill out the routine paperwork and assured me I would see a doctor soon. I waited in the room, taking the time to inspect the bumps. Covered in this substance I became rather suspicious they had not directed me to the emergency room, but I realized if they noticed my ability to function they must have thought an appointment suited me best.
The doctor arrived after a brief wait, and took me to a room in the back. As we sat, he asked me the usual questions that they would in any appointment, then proceeded to inspect the bumps on my body. I felt disheartened as I looked at his face. I could see an emotion of uncertainty and confusion as he lifted his eyebrows and his eyes filled with discontent.
He then looked up to me after inspecting the wounds and asked "Do you have a bug problem?” I replied, "No sir, not to my knowledge.” He then gave a disappointed look and spoke. "Well the nature of these sores appears to be similar to those of a tumor; however that wouldn't explain the spewing of pus.” I replied worried, "A tumor? Are you suggesting I may have cancer?” He chuckled a bit, then spoke. "No, no, I am certain you don't have cancer, my guess is these are just irritated cysts. You should be fine in a week or two; I'd say no work until these heal."
I was reluctant to skip work, but I myself couldn't disagree with his statement, especially due to all of the pain these tumors caused. I headed back to my house that evening, and thought it may have been best to try and comfort myself, to indulge in leisurely activities. I rested in bed that evening feeling more relaxed than the previous night.
I almost fell asleep that evening, Idid. In fact I wish I had, because I soon would witness one of the most terrifying moments of my life. The following memory was so unnerving and so repulsive; I can recall each and every detail as if it were the present. Before closing my eyes, my door slowly creaked open. I assumed it must have been nothing more than the house settling, but of course by instinct would check anyways.
It wasn't just the house moving, the door had been moved by something, by someone. I looked now, no further than a couple feet from my bed, stood an abstract figure in the doorway. He slowly approached me, appearing to be quite large in size. I had no ability to move, as shock overpowered my nerves. By the time he stood at the foot of the bed, he carried a bag with him that seemed quite valuable in his possession. He dropped it to the floor. Whilst he was next to me I couldn't mute the unsettling sound of his breath. He inhaled each breath with a rattling resounding noise. In and out his breathing disturbed me.
It only seemed to grow louder and more noticeable. As he rummaged through his bag, I noticed a few of the tools in his case. He turned quickly, holding what looked to be a needle in his hand. I swallowed my fear, and hoped for the best. He looked over me, scanning my body, as if he was analyzing me. I trembled slightly, yet I still believe he had no clue I was awake. He then shifted his gaze to my neck, and softly began pricking it with his fingers. I could barely feel this however. In just an instance he inserted this needle into the flesh of my neck. Surprisingly, I felt no pain. No sharp jolt, no quick prick, nothing at all.
I soon was filled with an unsettling feeling as I noticed something rather peculiar. He had not just put a needle into my neck; he in fact put a shot into my neck. He filled it with something, some unknown substance. He continued his work on several areas of my body, then left. After I was sure he was absent from my home, I lifted my hand in fear. I sluggishly shifted my hand along my chest and to my neck. I let my fingers drift in open air, before meeting the new bump on my neck. I felt it, and felt disheartened to find, it was no different from the rest that masked my body.
I still had little knowledge, and my mind ran curious. I had no indication as to why that man was breaking into my house into the middle of the evening, and filling me with some solution of his. I returned to sleep shortly after unable to stay awake in speculation.
When I awoke in the morning I was sure what I had seen was a mere nightmare, something my mind had created in explanation of my recent tumors. I soon discovered evidence to suggest otherwise. It appeared the man, who had crept into my room the evening before had left a paper behind. I was curious as to what it was and tried my best to unfold the letter. It was taped in several areas, and folded into a minuscule square. Unraveling the sheet, I was greeted with a repulsive and disheartening discovery.
I found a valid explanation to my recent bumps finally; however this was rather an unfavorable one. What I had looked at seemed to be nothing more than an instruction manual. When looking further, it was a revolting manual for some sick and twisted ritual. It guided the man on where to insert his needle to assure I wouldn't feel a thing. The most disturbing issue of it all was as I read further into it I found what he was inserting into my skin.
He had created some odd solution, and I was his "host". At the bottom of the manual it had labels for all of the following objects and entities in the diagrams. His solution was titled "Arachnid solvent T14" and the diagram depicted me, being a host to some sort of mutant spider colony he was attempting to create. It looked as if he was trying to create some sort of biologically altered spider species, and he was using humans as his test subjects to create these spiders. I flipped over the sheet to find a truth even more discomforting.It had been titled "Arachnid solvent T13". It expressed an image of the supposed "Host" experiencing side effects of dizziness, vomiting, nausea, and fatigue. Strangely enough the previous week I had come down with what I thought was the flu. I felt disturbed at this point, and wondered why exactly I had been chosen for his "testing". I didn't sleep well that night; I didn't sleep well that entire week.
Currently, I lie in bed with my door bolted shut, my windows closed covered in wooden boards I nailed into the walls, and my body smothered in layers of clothing. I doubt this will stop him, or even slow him in his progress at that. I've realized there isn't much to do to stop him. All I can really do is hope that he never gets his serum right. The good news is solvent T14 didn't work out so well; in fact, neither did T15 or T16. But I can say one thing for certain, he is only getting more and more clever in fixing the kinks, and it will only be a matter of time, until he gets it right...
Written by Pacersnation16