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ericmhe · 4 years

Text

A Story Rough Draft

“Peripheral” - working title

“Yes, I work at home, but I'm still working, you know,” Greg explained to his sister, trying to avoid having her kids dropped off on him again.

No one seemed to respect the basic premise, least of all his own family and it was kind of driving him crazy.

“Hang on, sounds like the mail's here.”

“See, you can just go get the mail as soon as it shows up. Why can't you look after your nephew and niece?”

“Because walking out to the mailbox is only a couple of minutes, and kids take hours of attention?”

“Come on, it would save me so much in babysitters.”

“And it could cost me my job,” he muttered as he opened the mailbox. Unfortunately, having to hold the phone up by clamping it between his face and shoulder meant it was right up against his mouth, and she actually heard what was meant to be an exasperated comment to himself.

He was enduring the aggrieved reaction as he walked back and flipped through the mail when it happened.

It was just in the corner of his eye, blurry and indistinct. Some kind of insect, or whatever centipedes would count as, at least a foot long. It sported far too many legs writhing about randomly, bizarrely asymmetrical with some limbs just far too long. He shouted as he jumped up, dropping his phone onto the concrete porch.

But the horrible writhing creature had vanished. It was just a harmless branch of a ground shrub, dried and browned. He felt his face get hot as he looked around, but fortunately none of the neighbors were out and he probably wasn't seen. He picked up the stick and threw it in the yard. Then he picked up the phone and tried to apologize.

Things were normal for a while, going from day to day taking care of his cat and dog, Sam and Fred. The names were an aborted joke he feared might be a little too nerdy. Working from the computer and fielding the odd phone call filled most of the day's work hours. Then one night, while he was brushing his teeth, a vague blurry reflection slid in the corner of his vision. A long body that looked covered in spikes. Wiggling antennae, and way too many legs for reason. He fought the reaction to jump away, but kept his body still, and only moved his eyes, trying to bring it into focus.

A ball of fuzz this time, some carpet threads and pet hair that had escaped the vacuum in a big unsightly clump. He threw it away and wondered what kind of mental disorder could be responsible for a recurring hallucination. He spent some time trying to search for hallucination symptoms on the internet with little luck. He fought the impulse for a bit but eventually took to forums and question websites trying to figure out if anyone else had similar experiences.

“What, some kind of bug? Like a spider?” some anonymous poster with a string of numbers asked on his thread.

“Try something more like 'Hell's most hardcore centipede' if you want a mental image.” he replied with a huff he knew full well no one would see online..

His work suffered the next couple of days from all the time inquiring online to no avail. Maybe he'd have to figure out a way to talk to someone in the mental health field. Get some drugs at least, provided it was affordable.

The third time, he was working. He tensed and drew his feet up into his chair. He would not acknowledge it. He would not. Would not. Bugs had too many limbs to start with, but the thing he could but couldn't quite see in the reflection of his monitor shamed even the most nightmarish millipede. Unlike a millipede's strange gait this thing had no sense of rhythmic motion, just flailing asymmetrical chaos.

Sweating, he forced himself to stare ahead and keep typing, ignoring the thing that seemed to be beside him. The reflection grew more frantic. His head began to ache, making reading his own writing impossible. He shut his eyes and kept typing. The headache grew worse, pulsing, with a steady drumbeat. His skin crawled, as if those writhing legs were just about to touch him. He couldn't stand any more; something was about to break... Fred barked his annoying high pitched yap.

His eyes flew open, but the flailing monstrosity reflected beside him was still there. He spun around in his chair. This time there wasn't even anything there to fool his eyes. The dog was indeed barking at nothing, just the wall behind him. Fred was lovable but dumb, he wasn't even pointed at where the bug thing had been.

“How are you going to protect anyone if you can't even tell where to bark?”

A few more incidents let him figure out some patterns. Ignoring it brought pain, and no medication he tried dulled it any, it only went away with time. Nothing seemed to change his condition, not changing his hours or diet or sleeping schedule. However it felt crazy to keep spinning around to try and catch glimpse of a nightmare bug that vanished in an instant. More likely it was never there at all, so why should he keep stopping his work for it? Maybe it was only for a few seconds, but damn it he didn't want to give in on principal.

Then again maybe he was just going crazy.

Then one day a political volunteer rung his doorbell to convince Greg to vote for a favored candidate in the upcoming primary. Greg wasn't really listening. surprised to find himself jealous of the man's eyebrows though they were partially hidden by his glasses and the glint catching on the reflection. His own eyebrows were balding, and this guy’s looked straight model worthy. He let the man talk at him for a while, guessing that most people would be prone to closing the door on his face and he hadn't seen anyone face to face himself for a while. In a way it was nice to be talked to, even about a topic he found boring. Now if there was a way to trade eyebrows, he'd vote for whoever this guy wanted.

He was trying to distract himself with these thoughts from the antics in his peripheral vision. He didn’t want to appear crazy. However when the operative looked up from his pamphlet, he shouted in surprise and threw his clipboard at the wall next to Greg's door.

“What the hell?!”

Greg, shocked, turned to look. Of course nothing was there. “What did you see?” he asked, heart pounding.

The man’s excellent eyebrows had disappeared into his hair. “Sorry. I thought,” but he trailed off.

“Was it something like a centipede?” Greg pressed.

But the man was still staring at the wall, looking confused and flushed. “Um. I should get going, quotas and stuff. Don’t forget to vote,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.

Greg at first felt exultant, and then terrified. It wasn't just in his head! So what the hell was it? He started to go back in and noticed the clipboard, picked it up and turned around to yell at the guy only to find he was already exiting the driveway in his car. Oh well, he'd hang on to it for a while in case he came back for it. He had other things to worry about. He suddenly remembered the thing disappearing when Sam hopped on the desk – at first he hadn't thought much of it, but maybe that meant being observed by anything would dispel its presence.

He resolved to find out and went to the store, bought some cameras, and got the largest storage he could afford and set them up around the house. They caught the thing on tape, sort of. Only in the spots out of the camera's focus did the thing appear, looking just as hazy and indistinct as did in his own vision. He even showed the footage around and everyone confirmed they saw something, but usually gave him a bit of grief for trying to hide a bad special effect and prank people.

It was real, a hundred percent confirmed, but it either would not or could not be captured as a clear image. It could only show up as an unclear one, in the field of view that was out of focus. If he just got a ton more cameras and covered his house with them so no spot in it was out of focus then it couldn't get to him. The venture would very expensive and time consuming. Power would be an issue, for now he would try setting up only in whatever room he was using that moment. He'd focus on his work room since he spent the most time there and had the most episodes, only the bathroom came close.

A couple of days went by and it seemed to have worked. No more creepy crawly nightmares scampering about on the edges of vision. There weren't any headaches yet, but they had been somewhat infrequent most of the time. It'd be a while longer before he was sure he'd thwarted them. The bug showed up alone sometimes, but the headache never happened without the bug so there must be some kind of connection. There were still unknowns, but he felt confident he had won. He set back to work hoping to make up for lost time. He pushed it so long he found himself falling asleep at his desk. He'd have to get up before he really dozed off. Just one more...

He knew he had to be somewhere to do something. The sensation was vague but compelling, driving him to a brisk walk. He rounded the corner around a building and was caught in the flash of a camera. The flash of light wasn't just disorientating because of the momentary vision impact but it actually burned. He jumped back around the corner, stunned by the burned flesh peeling away. He ran back in a hurry and took an alley, away from the crowds.

He came out alright and scanned the people in the street for any cameras. He ran along, wincing away from any flash of light he saw. He tried going down a back alley and nearly walked into a giant burning eyeball. Feeling vaguely disappointed in himself on some creative level he backed away, barely aware of his skin peeling away in a terrible burn.

Finally he was at his destination, but there was a line of people holding cameras making him pause. How could he get around that? Some of them were taking pictures of something, whatever it was it wasn't important, but it was forcing him to keep a distance. Even so the flashes of light were causing blisters here and there, deepening wounds and exposing bone as he tried to find a way around.

No good the whole area was blocked entirely. He decided to try risking it, but as he approached the whole crowd seemed to pivot towards him and start snapping pictures. He backed away trailing smoke and flakes of blackened skin. He finally realized he didn't feel the pain that he should. So, a dream then... what was so important though? It wasn't like any dream he'd ever had.

Greg's vision was blurry as his eyes opened and light from the monitor made him want to close them again. He'd fallen asleep in his computer desk in spite of himself. Well, his back was going to be out of it for the rest of the day. It might almost be a welcome distraction from the headache he had.

Headache?

When he first tried to open his eyes he found the action strangely difficult but with some effort he forced them to open and immediately saw his computer's monitor in sleep mode. In the 'black mirror' of the powered down computer screen he could see himself and … something else. Strangely none of his normal surroundings were reflected in the monitor, just a strange cluster of shapes that seemed to make no sense. It was like an escher painting come to life but worse somehow, the effort to focus on any one group of shapes only resulting in his gaze sliding away from it. He tried to turn away from it but found his neck wouldn't respond. Probably stiff from his nap. He could hear Fred whining and scratching at the door. He'd hardly noticed the noise before, it seemed to be drowned out by something whirling through his own thoughts. Wasn't that supposed to go the other way around?

He tried to use his feet to spin the chair but they wouldn't listen. Now he was getting worried. Still, the bizarre thing or things in the monitor couldn't be helping his headache. He tried pushing backwards, pleased to find that it worked but wondering why he couldn't move to the sides.

A wave of pain and nausea hit him with such force he wanted to reel, double over, physically react in some way, but for some reason he seemed to be stuck staring at the reflection in the monitor.

This felt far worse than it had ever been before.

Another wave, at least as strong as the first.

It felt like his head might split open as he struggled against the urge to vomit.

He looked around as much as his nearly immobile head would allow but saw no sign of the bug apparition.

Another wave hit. They seemed to keep getting stronger. Or his resistance was weakening. Maybe both.

He fell back as he started to stand up. What was happening? No bug to be seen, but this headache was something horrible. Why couldn't he turn? They areas around his eyes and ears started to feel wet. He intended to look around for something to dab at the area, or to find the bug, but his head stayed looking forward. 'How many marketers would pay blood sacrifices to claim such a captive audience? He wondered trying to take his mind off the pain and nausea with a quip to himself.

Another wave.

This time he actually seemed to slide from the chair some, but his head craned to keep the reflection of the monitor in sight. He struggled to push himself back up. He thought about the dreams, and crazy as it was... he went back to the desk and flipped one camera down, letting it record nothing but desk and dark.

Yet another wave and he started to slide from the chair again, nearly slamming his chin into his keyboard's resting spot.

He pushed himself back up shaking the whole while. He tried to reach for the monitor but his hands wouldn't reach that way. He could grab just about anything else though, so since he couldn't turn to look for the other camera, he settled for taking things from his desk and throwing them in the general direction he knew it was. Books, his coin tray, some old CDs. He was about to sadly start with his mouse and keyboard when he finally heard a clatter that sounded right.

The next wave of pain came instantly afterwards.

He hit his head on the desk, but the pain of that was lost in what was already happening. He shuffled backwards, leaning into his rolling chair, throwing the last few things on his desk behind him. Nothing happened. He made his way back as quickly as he could force himself until he hit the wall.

Another wave and his vision was going blurry. He couldn't even see himself in the monitor any more. The strange shapes were the only thing to be seen as they shifted around in mind-bending bizarre patterns.

The wet feeling increased and his back spasmed. He flailed against the wall wildly for a moment until he managed to get a hold of himself enough to push himself up. The last camera went down after a long moment of scrambling wildly trying to grab at his shelf and nearly immediately he saw the tangle of buggy limbs that had been haunting him.

It was the easiest thing in the world to turn and find nothing. He looked back at the monitor through the corner of his eye and only saw a normal monitor reflecting a faint gleam of light. He laughed.

How was it possible? The grotesque bug monster too horrific to look upon directly was the good guy of the scenario? Something worse constantly behind him...

He needed to get rid of the cameras after all. He really hoped he could find all the receipts...

One weekend when his sister brought her kids over they came running to their mother screaming and sobbing. They were unintelligible and confused their mother.

He knelt down to talk to them and asked, “was it a bug?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don't worry about it. It only looks scary.”

“Um...” the kids radiated uncertainty.

“Worry about what it's warning you about,” he smiled devilishly as his sister glared daggers at him.

“What is it?”

“You know how some people befriend crows? They give them food and the crows share shiny things? It's like they're friends, even if the crows are never pets. The bug creature is like that, I don't know what it gets from me, but it's always watching out for me. Us now I guess. So don't worry about it. I try to wave back sometimes, I like to think it likes it. I mean, it's waving at me all the time.”

His sister sighed, “I guess it's a good thing I didn't get you to start watching them after all.”

#monster #horror #horror story #short story #my writing

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