My family moved to a new house recently. It’s this big manor type house with at least five bedrooms, three of which have their own bathroom. Finally, me and my three brothers get our own rooms. No more fighting over towels or late nights cause one of us is keeping the other awake or accidentally swapping clothes.
Just peace and quiet, in our own rooms. In my own room. I couldn’t wait.
A few weeks into living in my new home, I couldn’t help but notice all the bugs in my room. I asked my brothers and parents about it but, they seem to not know what I’m on about. And I checked their rooms and, no bugs in sight. Which got me even more confused.
How are there bugs in my room and not anywhere else? Not even in the kitchen. It’s not even your normal everyday house flies or cockroaches either. Huge dead spiders under my bed, dragonflies, bumblebees and wasps – it’s winter here, how are they even alive? - , caterpillars. But the weirdest of them all; butterlies. Hundreds and hundreds of dead, butterflies.
I don’t know how or why they’re there, why they’re in my room. But no matter how hard I try to keep them out, windows shut, no food or drinks in my room, vacuuming everyday, there always seem to be bugs in my room. Both dead and alive.
I’ve found some nests too. I moved my drawers out the way once to clean underneath it and what seemed like thousands of baby spiders crawled out from a gap in the wall. I looked and there it was, a spider nest with a dead mommy spider in the center. Her children eating away at her rotten decaying flesh.
I’ve tried asking to move rooms but, my parents won’t let me. „You’ve got everything in that room! A bathroom, nice view of outside, a lot of space for your things. Why would you want to move?“ they say. So I left it at that.
It’s been around a month now. Bugs are still appearing my my room. There seems to be a lot more of them now. Especially butterflies, for some reason. I mean, why butterflies? Everytime I open the bathroom cabinet ten or so of them fly out into my face. I can’t seem to find a nest though.
I asked one of my brothers about it, maybe they were just pulling a prank on me? But no, they don’t know what I’m talking about. And- the weirdest thing is, when I try showing someone else my room- all the bugs under my bed and in the cracks of my wall, they all just, disappear. Like they go poof whenever someone else walks in. Maybe my room is haunted or something, I don’t know.
Pushing the bug problem aside, it seems over the past few days I’ve gained a bit of weight. My stomach feels heavier, yet I haven’t eaten more than what I usually do. Mom says it’s just the stress of moving. I’ll take her word of it for now.
Okay now things have just gotten weirder.
Instead of just seeing bugs in my room, I know see them everywhere. I’ll open the downstairs toilet lid and a thousand flies will fly out and into my face. Maggots and caterpillars crawl up my kitchen walls and stove top. Hundreds upon hundreds of them, everywhere. Millipedes and centipedes dangle from the living room ceiling, not your usual ones either. They seem to have doubled in size. Yet the rest of my family still can’t see them. I can ear little bugs feet tip-tapping inside my walls, my floors. I found some even in my bed sheets. They won’t leave me alone. Not to mention I haven’t dropped that weight I put on. It seems like I’ve even gained a few extra pounds.
Everyday it seems like it’s harder to get out of bed. I don’t know why but it feels like something is pushing me down into my own matress. Something heavy that feels uncomfortable every time I move. Even just blinking sets it off and it feels like I’m gonna hurl up whatever I ate that day.
I might just go insane if this doesn’t stop.
I am strapped to my bed not able to move. They aren’t letting me. I cannot hear anything. No floorboards creaking, no wind whistling, nothing. Except for them. I can hear them. Moving around.
I have been lay here awake for days now. My family have given up on trying to get me out of bed. I can’t, they won’t let me. To pass time I stare up at my ceiling. Although, because I’ve stared at it for so long, I’ve started to hallucinate. The white roof of my bedroom is now dancing with shapes and colours. Darting back and forth along the ceiling. My eyes dart with them, dry and crusted over from not being able to blink.
Now I’ve started to hallucinate people. Not normal people. Their eyes have been gauged out, leaving black dripping sockets. All their teeth have been pulled out leaving bloodied mouths and raw gums. Their cheeks hollowed, I can see the bones tearing through their flesh leaving the faces scarred and mangled. Yet there is no blood dripping from the wounds, just the mouth. They don’t like the mouth, the faces say, it’s too wet.
I have been lay here awake for weeks now. My stomach growls yet I do not hear it, but see it. My mouth is dry from thirst, they want to keep my mouth dry. My bones poke out of my fatless flabby skin. My cheeks are sunken in and my tongue feels heavy. My ribs are showing through my translucent skin. I think I can see my heart pumping. It’s nearly my time. I can’t hear them anymore, but see them.
Despite the rest of my body looking skeletal, my stomach looks as if I’m pregnant. It’s bulging out among the fatless flabby skin and bones. Writhing and wriggling. From what’s inside it. They are nearly ready. And I am terrified.
I have been here for months now. Stuck to my bed. Spring is here, I can see the flowers blooming on my windowsill. It’s, kind of beautiful. What dimmers my joy of spring though, is that it’s time now. Time for them to break free, break me.
Antennae poke out from my pores. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. The flapping of wings make my stomach whirlpool round and round. They then make their way up. Through my chest and empty lungs, up my throat, and out my mouth. Butterflies fly out of my dry, scabby mouth. The force of their wings pulling my teeth along with them. My mouth and gums are now left a bloody mess. Some venture further upwards to my eyes. Pushing against my eyeballs, the pressure being enough to pop them out my eye sockets. And the rest stay in my stomach and chest. Pushing up against my thin skin. I can see them, flapping their wings frantically. Until finally my skin rips, and out fly hundreds of butterflies. No blood comes out my torn flesh, they have sucked me dry.
I cannot eat, I cannot drink. I cannot sleep, I cannot move. I cannot hear, I cannot see.
For I have butterflies in my stomach.