Thus revealed, the creature buried its nose in the tire-tilled soil...
May 16, 2017
Nightmare Fuel: A True Story
Category: Miscellany

I heard you like nightmare fuel? Lean in: let creepy Uncle Wes tell you a tale of terror.

This is a true story that happened to me when I was a younger man. I remember it like it happened yesterday... except I remember it even better than that because it happened roughly thirty minutes ago.

I had just returned home from work. After washing up and changing out of my work clothes, I entered my room and felt a cold tickle along my shoulder. I reached into my t-shirt sleeve to scratch the imagined itch, and when I brought my hand back into the light I noticed something... unusual... between my fingertips. The first point of confusion was that the thing I held appeared to be a bit of thread -- which was curious because, while it did appear to match the checkered shirt I had worn to work, I had since removed that shirt and was then clad only in the t-shirt I had worn beneath it. The thread's color suggested that it had not come from the t-shirt, which was white, and it would have been odd for a thread from an outer garment to somehow work its way under my undershirt.

The second strange observation I made regarding this mysterious thread was that it seemed to be quivering under its own power.

Bemused and intrigued, I retreated to the bathroom -- where the lighting is better -- but was still unable to identify the nature of the thread. At this point the cold tickle near my shoulder returned, so I dropped the thread in the sink and reached back into my sleeve to produce yet another writhing thread. I dropped that and reached back in to find another, and yet another, until ultimately the sink contained no fewer (and almost certainly more) than eight wiggling little threads. I stared at them, baffled. The cold tickle had stopped. Reaching into my sleeve produced no more threads, but the skin in that area now ached slightly. Had some parasite been working its way through my skin? As unsettling as that thought was, I needed to know. I removed my t-shirt to get a closer look at the skin beneath.

Yet as I moved to place the shirt on the sink countertop, I discovered -- to my relief, if one can call it that -- the true source of those previously unidentified threads. For at some point during my thread-plucking exploits, I must have dislodged their owner -- and now, unmistakable against the white counter, lay a house centipede in a decidedly pitiable state.

The creature was missing all of the legs on one side of its body.

Sweet dreams, little doves.

-posted by Wes | 10:04 pm | Comments (0)
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