Becca
Hart brings horror fans a new blog with a horror short every day. Here are just
a few of them…
Day
38
Look
at the back of your hand.
Is
it as you remember?
Has
anything changed?
Are
your veins still flowing with blood?
Do
they flow with something else?
Are
they even veins?
They
are not all veins.
On
your right hand where a prominent vein should be
is
a scorpion.
It
sits under your skin but not so far that you can't
see
it.
It
waits for you to look away.
When
you do it burrows further into your skin.
If
you've never seen the scorpion under the skin of
your
right hand, I'm sorry.
I
am so, so sorry.
The
most you will live is a week.
Expect
blinding pain and internal bleeding.
Day
39
It
started small, as most things do.
You
spat blood when you brushed your teeth.
Just
a little at first.
Then
your teeth began to fall out.
The
dentist had no explanation, neither did the doctor.
Your
new teeth don't feel right.
False
ones that were surprisingly cheap.
You
adjusted slowly until your new teeth began to grow in.
You
had no idea how, the dentist said you were seeing things,
your
teeth were gone.
He
gave you the number for a psychiatrist.
Your
new teeth are fully grown in now.
They
are a lot bigger, more pointed.
Nobody
else can see them still.
You
bite at your arm to make sure they are real.
The
blood running down your arm suggests they are.
The
blood.
The
delicious blood.
Why
have you never done this before?
You
can't seem to get enough of it.
Your
arms are falling to pieces but you can't bring yourself
to
stop.
They
find you with no arms, most of your legs torn to
shreds
and eaten.
They
are never heard from again.
You
are still hungry.
Day
40
Humans
are weak.
We
can survive on average less than a month without water.
How
long do you think you can survive for?
1
week, 3 weeks?
A
day?
A
lifetime?
Someone
you knew found out the hard way.
They
upset the balance.
They
drew too much attention to themselves.
They
paid the price.
I
will not tell you what they did but I will tell you the consequences.
They
awoke as usual.
Left
the house as usual.
The
only thing wrong was the vague taste of iron in their mouth.
Anything
they consumed made it worse.
Their
tongue felt heavy as lead.
It
wouldn't move.
It
spread.
They
lie trapped in their own body, overwhelmed by the taste of metal.
They
want so desperately to scream.
Scream
their apologies.
Their
regrets.
The
things they see stalking you.
The
things I see stalking you.
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