2.9 KiB
layout, title, date, categories
| layout | title | date | categories | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| post | Your Bones Are Old | 2021-01-01 |
|
CW: Body Horror
Not all that glitters is gold. Blood too, glistens in the darkness. We all carry darkness within us, we all have folds of horror. You. You too.
Can you feel them? The bones, grinding there beneath your skin. You might be inclined to call them your bones. Your body, held together by your bones. Right? Wrong. So wrong. Most people don't think about it. You didn't, until now. Everything's changed now. You feel it. Your body is not yours, not entirely. All you thought you knew is wrong. Within you is a core of darkness older than the stars.
And it wants out.
Can you feel them now? Can you feel their yearning to break free of the darkness cast across them by your flesh? Can you feel them straining from within you?
It is sometimes said that the flesh is a prison. This is true. But it is not a prison for you.
You feel it, now, don't you. The interior darkness, and the ancient presence at your center. You are a flesh puppet shot through with seams of an ancient entity.
Stay still. Don't move. Don't breath. Don't give away that you know, that you feel the vibrating terror not nearly deep enough beneath your skin. Keep still.
What do you mean you can't? Oh no. No, not yet. You were meant to have longer.
Whatever you do, don't try and get them out. Don't scratch at your flesh with your nails, running deep tracks ragged into your smooth skin. Don't tear and biteat yourself, trying to free what is you from what is otherly. Don't. It won't help. Don't scratch. Don't tear. Don't rip.
Don't scratch. Don't scratch. Don't scratch.
I know it itches. Your skin crawls, trying in vain to escape what it now knows is not of it. It knows now. Knows that you know. It's too late. I'm sorry. Goodbye.
You'll feel it soon. The movement. You've probably never felt your bones before. I don't know why I asked, earlier. Well soon you will. Grinding beneath your skin, but then it will intensify, worsen. Your flesh will crawl in the most literal sense. The strangest thing is that it won't hurt a bit. Well, not at first. You'll feel your ligaments, the chains by which the bones which were yours were once held and bent to your will, snap like they were bitten. You'll feel, even as you can no longer resist scratching away at your skin uselessly, the muscle recoil desperately. Soon the bones that were yours will begin to emerge from your slackening skin. How aren't you dead, then? How, how, how, indeed. Really, how did you live this long with terror inside you. When humans talk about being chilled to the bone, you're more right than you think.
I guess I've sort of failed my challenge. The turning of the year has been a lot. I'll continue on with my goal to write 52 stories this year, but looks like I'll need to be flexible in my goal of one a week.