Story: Squirming
Chapter: One shot
Rating: PG 13 (Not for kids, no sexual themes though. Cussing, Gore.)
Pairings: None
Warnings: Violence, No Sexual situations though, just really…Disturbing I guess…
Others: What started out as an itch…Sorry if Nny seems OOC.
Summary: What started out as an itch becomes a deepening feeling of inner parasites for Nny. Just a OS of how a simple itch can affect a very paranoid person. Please do not read if you are easily creeped/sickened by body mutilation/Skin getting stuck under your nails.
(Inspired not only by: Amaya the night rain, but also by a small itch that I had on my elbow. Also, during the making of this single chapter, I kept thinking about the thought of how distrustful people can portray themselves to be. Also by the neurotic thought that maybe there really were bugs (Like Scabies) under my skin. (I soon found that impossible to have them because I not only not have them, but someone explained to me that with the area I am currently located in, they were not around. Plus, apparently I have to have human contact or be in dingy environments to get them. I feel like an ass…but okay.).)
My skin crawled. Oh God, did it crawl, any other way to explain it would be to sit here and tell you that something, and some kind of bug was digging holes under my skin. As if maybe, tiny flea like bugs had managed to find a small cut or spore large enough to push into. From there, I could almost see the small fleas digging their way under my skin above my muscles and tendons, trying to find something in my body. Something that I could not see and they were digging their way to it. "Ah-HAHA!" My hand raised itself to the area of my arm that I had exposed to the cold air of my house.
Digging my nails into the exposed skin, I tried my very hardest to try and claw those little bastards out. Slowly, I watched as my own skin started to not only peel away from my body, but well up with long, deepening pink lines. I paused a second, looking at the skin. It simply sat there, unmoving, yet changing all the same. Slowly, I watched as my skin began to dance with the once pale lining of skin, into something other then the outer shell that once kept my blood inside of my body. Now, slowly, the lines grew longer, and darker. They were getting deeper, and the itching was giving way to a sort of burning. I raised my hand that had been scratching my arm to my eyes.
I looked under my dingy fingernails, seeing where my skin had gotten to. That skin that used to be on my arm, keeping the blood in my body and not on the outer side of my person. I saw that pale skin, bundled up and rotting slowly underneath my nails. The feeling that it caused as I felt it. I had taken off more then a few layers of skin, and for some reason, it all stuck under my nails. Slowly, I could see it darken as well. It lay there, balled up in clumps underneath my nails…like the bugs in my skin…
My head began to itch. Desperately, I picked my hand up, the same with the skin clumps under it, and began to dig for those little bugs that were now under my skin. God! They must have been trying to get into my brain. Fear was not all that consumed me in those next few seconds, no…The overwhelming thought that maybe these bugs were going to try and lay eggs underneath my skin, maybe even in some of my major organs. Parasites! Fucking gnawing parasites! "Fuck!" I screamed out, once more digging deeper into my scalp's flesh. I felt old clumps of dead skin push deeper under my finger nails, making way for the new ones that were now forming next to them.
My mouth dry, I tried to look around for anything that would help me to alleviate the itching. Nothing though, in the cold, damp cellar of my house brought to my mind any sort of relief. I cried out, hoping that the bugs would hear my pain and take pity on me. Falling to my knees, I felt no sort of ease though, and my itch shifted from my head down to my back. "Ah!" I screamed, shrill. The scream ended up burning the back of my throat, pain swelling as I felt the cruel itch come to the center of my back.
My body contorted, trying to itch that spot. For anything, my eyes moved around the room. I traced over the fabrication of stone floor and wall. Better then nothing. With my skin crawling, and my body shivering, I moved to the back of the room. My nails, the same nails that had the rotting clumps of dead skin under them felt more then pressing as they threatened to separate my nail from my finger. My eyes started itching. Eye balls don't itch! I screamed out again, this time in unbelievable frustration. It was Hell on Earth, and I had been to Hell. Heaven too, but now though, I would have given anything to be in either or place.
Running at the wall, I slammed by spine into it, feeling the cold stone rock my body. I gave a small cry, scrapping my body against that cold stone. It felt like sandpaper as it caught onto the loose fabric I was wearing. I could hear ripping as it caught in odd place, and I could feel warm, raw stone against my back as I moved up and down on the wall. Anything to get rid of the itching. Being alone in the room, I soon found my shirt restricting, and I was quick to remove it.
Throwing it across the room, I allowed for it to fall to the floor, ignoring the piece of fabric as I went back to scrapping my body against the wall. Now though, there was a raw pain that shivered throughout my spine. A layer of skin were being taken off, much like that of what had been on my arm, but no longer was there. No, now, it was under my nails. I moved back from the wall, and I turned, looking at it. I allowed my eyes to look as small flakes of my skin here and there sprouted out from the wall. They were small, but with the contrast of light pink and pale white against the dark of the wall's stone, I could see them. They were like little flakes of snow…Or rather, the stars in the night.
I feel to my knees again. I looked up at the wall, moving my hands to both sides of my ribs, holding myself. The bugs stopped crawling, for now, I knew that much. Or…It was not the bugs that had stopped moving, but rather the fact that another pain was now flaring up in my body. My arm, my fingernails, my scalp and my back all started to throb. I closed my eyes as they burned, screaming at me because they were not open. It was the flash of pain I knew from when I would go days without sleep. It was the same screaming pain that I would endure every time that my skin was cut.
There were tears that pushed past my burning eyes, and the cold air on my back felt cooling for a second. The cold air shifted gently over my scrapped back, digging teasingly into my cuts. It was as if they kissed the area of my blood, and then quickly retreated, leaving a burning memory of how gently the kiss was. The tear that landed on my damaged arm slowly trickled over my cuts. I could feel the burn. I said nothing though, only bit my lip and allowed for the pain to slowly cease.
God…I felt my body convulse and shake. Not knowing if the reason for the bugs was just my own imagination, or if it were really him that had sent them, laughing as he was now probably looking over my hunched over form. I was weak. I was always weak.
Once the cold air had stilled the pain in my cuts, I could feel two things. One was the feeling of my head throbbing, and the other was of my fingernails being separated from my fingers as I realized the clumps of skin were still sitting there, rotting.
-The End.
You guys won't believe this, but once I got done writing this, my skin kept itching. HA-ha.
Began: 1/23/11 at: 8:26pm
Finished: 1/23/11 at: 9:17pm
Crawling in and out of holes,
My body screams as does my soul.
And what fouled, squelch of rotting breathe,
Does hold me up above the wryth.
The monster that sits, gnaws at the sky,
Screaming pain that never dies?
Oh God, your code, and right to live,
Should man fall down to forge and give?
Oh that soul that I hold so dear,
Is not my own, a chilling fear.
So hands that clasp, that weary soul,
And dead the body I try to console.
-TheLustOfKilling
(For some of you that are wondering what a Wryth is, it's a creature that the writer D. D. Darkwriter made up for one of their stories.)