By The Roots

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


A flash fiction horror story.

Submitted: May 03, 2018

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Submitted: May 03, 2018

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By The Roots

 

It starts as a bit more than an itch. More like a pull or a tug on a strand of hair. You must be laying on it wrong, have it caught up somewhere. You turn over and feel the piece of hair come out by the root.

 

At least it doesn’t hurt much any more, so you can go back to sleep. How long though, before you are again woken by the same feeling, only more so. There seem to be multiple hairs being pulled out now, all over your head. You try to move, only to find yourself unable to. Something has your head held in a very firm grip.

 

Unable to move, you can feel something moving up your neck, along the bottom of your chin. Are you there ants running all over you? Are they crawling up you, to bite? You go to move a hand to knock those insects flying but your hand won’t move. It appears to be held in place by some very fine but very strong thread. Try the other hand, you brain shouts out, but that will not move either.

 

Something is very wrong here. Something, or someone, is holding you immobile.

 

There is something poking at your mouth. It feels as though there is a toothpick or something forcing its way between your lips. It is prodding at your gums between your teeth. It does occur to you that maybe you are stuck in some kind of dental nightmare. Are you dreaming up a demon dentist?

 

No! When something starts go pierce the inside of your nose, you realize this is nothing to do with dentists. You try to get your eyes to look down to your nose, but whatever it is it is out of sight. You try to move your head again, but the grip on your head is now so tight. Hair is yanked out by the roots, but there is so much more being held firm you cannot move even a fraction of an inch.

 

Your ears! No, not your ears! Don’t let anything pierce them, deafen you for ever! Fear takes over, makes you thrash around, or at least attempt to, even though the hair is being ripped from your head in clumps now.

 

Something catches your eye. Ant size but no ant; a little creature that walks on two legs carrying what looks like a needle. No, it’s not a needle. They are made for sewing and this is not. It is for stabbing with, like a lance.

 

As it walks it’s way up your nose, it becomes clearer. An ugly little thing, an overshot bottom jaw, heavy forehead, and scaly skin. It’s expression is what gets you most. Gleeful, enjoying your torment, your fear. Is it feeding on it, becoming stronger?

 

It stands by your eye now, peering inside, looking deep. You struggle and struggle. There can’t be much hair left now to be pulled out by the roots but it is enough to hold you almost still. He has to balance himself against your struggles so that he can remain on his feet. It doesn’t bother him though, does it.

 

Look, he is holding up that spear, lance, needle....whatever it is. And he is aiming it straight in to your eye. He’s not after blindness though. This thrust of a weapon will take your life.

 

Close your eyes, your mind cries out! Protect yourself. Better to be blinded than killed! But there is more than one of him. Of course there is. How could you not have realized it before. Two tiny grizzled eyes with filthy claw like finger nails grip your eyelid holding it open. There is not a thing that you can do now other than wait.

 

The spear-like thing is on it’s way down. Death cannot come soon enough.

 

 


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