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Chicken

Shut up Yuri ​@@Youngneilinthereal

@TheMinionVoice there’s hundreds of them scuttling around, crawling over each other. The sound of them moving is a cacophony of clicks and scratches against the floor as you realize this is what you hear at night. You notice their corpses being cannibalized as you recoil in horror, thinking about your sleep apnea. The nutty, twiggy pieces of “food” you’d inexplicably find between your teeth were suddenly explainable. The tingling, itching, burning sensation you feel when you wake up, as if your food were trying to claw its way out. As you double over to retch, the vomit scratches your throat. Despite the nausea, you have to force the contents to expel themselves. They come up slowly, painfully, writhing their way to fresh air. First, just one small brown dot the size of a sunflower, wiggling on the floor. The rest is stuck. Heaving, you hack up a mucus covered brown mass the size of a softball. As you lean in to inspect what looks like a washcloth, it begins to fall apart into shreds. The shreds began to move, leaving a dotted trail of saliva as they seek refuge under your desk. The main piece, having fallen apart like dirt in water, had turned into two-dozen inch long roaches. Your floor began to vibrate. The wood panels lining your floor were no longer steady, they moved in their places as you braced against the wall. The first panel came up, followed by a tidal wave of brown, quickly engulfing the floor around it. Your stomach dropped and sphincter tightened as panels became misplaced, only to promptly be consumed by a blanket of living waste. This blanket was no longer directionless as you watched it from the corner of your room. Three quarters of the space were now coated in the bugs, and you were trapped as the seemingly conscious hoard deliberately moved towards the remaining quarter. In an instant, dozens of them were crawling up your leg, on your shoulders and cheeks, looking for an orifice to enter. You could feel them eating you alive, each small prick taking a piece of warm flesh. Spitting and clawing were as futile as emptying the ocean with a spoon. Every attempt to expel one lead to two more entering, they were choking you, entering every hole and crevice, eating you from the inside out. Writhing lumps danced below your eyebrows, making your eyelids bulge as blood pooled and mixed with tears. Sight was now an orange-red blur of abstract shapes, fading like the setting sun as each bite ate your vision. Your distended stomach could no longer contain the sheer volume of insects tearing its way out of your intestines. Lines form across your skin, turning light and resembling stretch marks at first. As you watch the lines inflate, white stains with pink. Pink bleeds into a spiderweb of red stretching from your solar plexus to your pelvis. For an instant, brown and red was all you could see as the pain reached a peak and the pressure relieved. Your blood soaked body looked like a chicken liver in an anthill. As the light fades from your vision, all you can feel is small pricks as you’re eaten alive.

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