Spoiler
Crack
Angela stood up from her chair and stretched. She then proceeded to do her usual routine of cracking each of her fingers. First her left hand. Pushing each finger down until she heard that satisfactory sound of the bubbles between her joints popping. She has heard that cracking your knuckles was bad for your articulations, but she knew that was nonsense. She has been doing it for years and she was fine. After all the fingers from her right hand had successfully been loosened she worked on her left hand. She used her thumb to push down each finger. First the pinky finger, crack. Then the ring finger, crack. The middle finger, crack. And finally, the index finger…nothing. She tried again, but to no avail. She just couldn't make her finger crack. She kept trying, this time using her other hand. After several attempts she managed to do it.
Instead of the normal crack, she heard a sharp snap, followed by a tearing and wet sound. Her hand felt like it had been crushed by a cinder block. A constant stream of pain flowing from her knuckle to her brain. She looked at her hand and left out a muffled yelp. A white and sharp bone was sticking out of her knuckle, her finger barely hanging from her hand by layers of skin and muscle, blood coating the bone and dripping from her hand. The pain made her snap out of it. She grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard, as a futile attempt to block the pain from going to her brain. She needed a doctor, she needed a doctor this instant. She reached for the phone on the room, when a pain much more intense suddenly hit her. She fell to the ground in with a scream. The skin on the top of her hand started to shiver and move, as if something inside of it was attempting to escape.
The bone sticking out started to turn and twist, breaking the bones next to it, disfiguring her hand with each turn. When the bone was almost out, it broke into legs. White, sharp and bloody legs that stuck into the remains of her hand pulling itself out. The creature broke free of her body, its eight slimy tentacles whirling in the air in a frenzy, sliding away in search for another victim. The pain was immediately replaced for a scratching sensation inside of her hand. Then thousands of tiny creatures similar to the first swarm out of the hole of her hand. They climbed up her arm, many falling, onto her shoulder, all over her. She screamed as she was completely covered in them. She screamed as they went into her ears, nose and mouth. She screamed as they turned her insides into their hive for their queen to reproduce. She screamed until her vocal cords were bleeding. And there she laid in the ground. Immobile because her muscles were being used for food. She laid there, until she was completely consumed from the inside out.
Angela stood up from her chair and stretched. She then proceeded to do her usual routine of cracking each of her fingers. First her left hand. Pushing each finger down until she heard that satisfactory sound of the bubbles between her joints popping. She has heard that cracking your knuckles was bad for your articulations, but she knew that was nonsense. She has been doing it for years and she was fine. After all the fingers from her right hand had successfully been loosened she worked on her left hand. She used her thumb to push down each finger. First the pinky finger, crack. Then the ring finger, crack. The middle finger, crack. And finally, the index finger…nothing. She tried again, but to no avail. She just couldn't make her finger crack. She kept trying, this time using her other hand. After several attempts she managed to do it.
Instead of the normal crack, she heard a sharp snap, followed by a tearing and wet sound. Her hand felt like it had been crushed by a cinder block. A constant stream of pain flowing from her knuckle to her brain. She looked at her hand and left out a muffled yelp. A white and sharp bone was sticking out of her knuckle, her finger barely hanging from her hand by layers of skin and muscle, blood coating the bone and dripping from her hand. The pain made her snap out of it. She grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard, as a futile attempt to block the pain from going to her brain. She needed a doctor, she needed a doctor this instant. She reached for the phone on the room, when a pain much more intense suddenly hit her. She fell to the ground in with a scream. The skin on the top of her hand started to shiver and move, as if something inside of it was attempting to escape.
The bone sticking out started to turn and twist, breaking the bones next to it, disfiguring her hand with each turn. When the bone was almost out, it broke into legs. White, sharp and bloody legs that stuck into the remains of her hand pulling itself out. The creature broke free of her body, its eight slimy tentacles whirling in the air in a frenzy, sliding away in search for another victim. The pain was immediately replaced for a scratching sensation inside of her hand. Then thousands of tiny creatures similar to the first swarm out of the hole of her hand. They climbed up her arm, many falling, onto her shoulder, all over her. She screamed as she was completely covered in them. She screamed as they went into her ears, nose and mouth. She screamed as they turned her insides into their hive for their queen to reproduce. She screamed until her vocal cords were bleeding. And there she laid in the ground. Immobile because her muscles were being used for food. She laid there, until she was completely consumed from the inside out.
Spoiler
Comments, thoughts, opinions?A better place
The first thing John noticed as he woke up was the cold metal against his back, legs and arms. Then it was the darkness. At first he though that the room was pitch black, but then he realized that his eyes were closed. And he couldn't open them. In fact, the entirety of his body seemed to be frozen in place. His body wasn't asleep, he could feel the piercing cold on the back of his naked body. He could also feel something very light pressing against him, like a thin sheet or something similar. What he felt the most though, was the pulsing pain emanating from the back of his head. It felt as if something had stricken him on the back of the neck and exited out of his mouth, leaving the flesh in between completely annihilated. He tried to move, he tried to shake the tiniest part of his body. He just couldn't. His body would just not respond to the commands sent by his brain. He laid there for minutes, hours, days, who knew. He didn't know why he was here, he didn't even remember what had happened lest night. This solitary confinement was driving him mad. But then, he heard the voices.
They sounded far away, but they were closing in. They were actual voices from people, not the kind of sick whispering that crazy people hear. John felt relieved and excited, the pain almost forgotten, he would be found, he would be freed. The voices however, stopped in front of him. He could hear a woman and a man. The woman sounded young, the man not so much. He took every detail with him, savoring the sound of their voices. It seemed that he hadn't heard a voice in a long time. They were talking, but they didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.
"…with your wife?" Was all he could hear from the woman. She seemed to find her remark funny.
"She's been getting worse." Replied the man. He didn't see the funny side.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." The woman apologized.
"Doesn't matter. Let's just work."
What were these people talking about? Why weren't they helping him? Didn't they notice? He was right next to them for god's sake! He then felt the sheet lifted from him and his naked body exposed. He suddenly felt scared. These people didn't seem to react at him at all. Hell, they seemed very comfortable taking into account that they had a paralyzed guy in front of them. He didn't like this, at all.
"Who do we have here?" Asked the man dryly.
"A very handsome guy, that is who." Said the woman and giggled. John´s brain screamed with alarm.
"Stop fooling around and get ready." Replied the man annoyed. He then heard the clink of metal being moved in a tray, and pages being turned.
"What was the cause of death?"
"Bullet through the back of his neck. The shot was fired from the front."
"Seems like he ate the barrel. Suicide?"
"Yes, he left earth his way."
"Well, at least he is in a better place."
After that, any coherent thought he had was replaced by a searing pain as a scalpel made a Y incision on the chest of his still conscious dead body.
The first thing John noticed as he woke up was the cold metal against his back, legs and arms. Then it was the darkness. At first he though that the room was pitch black, but then he realized that his eyes were closed. And he couldn't open them. In fact, the entirety of his body seemed to be frozen in place. His body wasn't asleep, he could feel the piercing cold on the back of his naked body. He could also feel something very light pressing against him, like a thin sheet or something similar. What he felt the most though, was the pulsing pain emanating from the back of his head. It felt as if something had stricken him on the back of the neck and exited out of his mouth, leaving the flesh in between completely annihilated. He tried to move, he tried to shake the tiniest part of his body. He just couldn't. His body would just not respond to the commands sent by his brain. He laid there for minutes, hours, days, who knew. He didn't know why he was here, he didn't even remember what had happened lest night. This solitary confinement was driving him mad. But then, he heard the voices.
They sounded far away, but they were closing in. They were actual voices from people, not the kind of sick whispering that crazy people hear. John felt relieved and excited, the pain almost forgotten, he would be found, he would be freed. The voices however, stopped in front of him. He could hear a woman and a man. The woman sounded young, the man not so much. He took every detail with him, savoring the sound of their voices. It seemed that he hadn't heard a voice in a long time. They were talking, but they didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.
"…with your wife?" Was all he could hear from the woman. She seemed to find her remark funny.
"She's been getting worse." Replied the man. He didn't see the funny side.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." The woman apologized.
"Doesn't matter. Let's just work."
What were these people talking about? Why weren't they helping him? Didn't they notice? He was right next to them for god's sake! He then felt the sheet lifted from him and his naked body exposed. He suddenly felt scared. These people didn't seem to react at him at all. Hell, they seemed very comfortable taking into account that they had a paralyzed guy in front of them. He didn't like this, at all.
"Who do we have here?" Asked the man dryly.
"A very handsome guy, that is who." Said the woman and giggled. John´s brain screamed with alarm.
"Stop fooling around and get ready." Replied the man annoyed. He then heard the clink of metal being moved in a tray, and pages being turned.
"What was the cause of death?"
"Bullet through the back of his neck. The shot was fired from the front."
"Seems like he ate the barrel. Suicide?"
"Yes, he left earth his way."
"Well, at least he is in a better place."
After that, any coherent thought he had was replaced by a searing pain as a scalpel made a Y incision on the chest of his still conscious dead body.
