Johann reached up with trembling hands and began to fumble with the buttons. He could feel the coarse flannel against his thumb knuckle and he paused, biting down on the second knuckle while he drummed up the courage to take a look look. He took a deep breath, then undid the shirt and peeled it back from his chest.
There it was. A small cluster of holes above his left nipple, perfectly round as if somebody had drilled into his chest. He heaved and collapsed to his knees as a green substance spewed from the holes, trickling down his chest and forcing him to retch, to vomit.
The the scratching began again, like nails on a chalkboard inside his chest, a creature fighting its way out. Clawing, scratching… Chewing.
“What is happening to me?” Johann asked the empty room before retching again, a rush of vomit pooling around him as he collapsed. He closed his eyes and began to cry under the harsh halogen, softly weeping in perfect time with the scratching.
He lay there until the scratching stopped.
He lay there for a long time afterwards, until his landlady arrived to ask him what was causing the smell.
He lay there until the police had come in, the medical examiner had reached into the cavernous hole in Johann’s chest and pulled her hand away quickly as it came into contact with something sharp.
She peeled off her latex glove with a snap, looking quickly for cuts or marks. Nothing. She paused for a moment, then decided to carry on with a fresh set of gloves. It must have been her imagination.
Little did she know. Beneath her black polyester jacket, her cotton blouse, her black lace bra, the first hole began to appear on her previously unblemished skin and she shook her head to try and dislodge the scratching sound…
This one came from a creepy dream I had this morning. Probably fuelled by some pictures I saw of lotus seedpod patterns photoshopped onto skin. Word of warning, don’t google that. Even the bad photoshops are horrifying.
The Idiot in Tin Foil