Decay part 2 (DON'T READ IT'S BAD)
- Developer's Notes: Sorry, we're still in alpha. Consistent tone and quality will be implemented in the beta.
- It seemed that my eyes shot open about a second before the infernal screeching of my alarm clock began. Trying to ignore it, I made an attempt to take note of my own physical condition. First,I felt very cold, second, I felt air subtly passing through places that it had no right to, and lastly I couldn't fucking breath! Rolling off the couch bed I noticed that the sheet I was tangled in was stained a mottled brown with a few vivid crimson blotches to hammer the point home. Upon completing the first few heaves and wretches I realized that the offending blockage was extremely well lodged in my trachea, redoubling my efforts to remove the potentially lethal blob I wondered if I might pass out and die in blissful unconsciousness. I was not so fortunate and nowhere near soon enough I could then taste what had been choking me to death, rancid might have began to describe it, but it's a far cry from how truly foul the experience was. Flailing away from the horrid mass I was seized by another coughing fit. Spitting out few more chunks of what I prayed to a nondescript deity were not my trachea, I opened my eyes to examine the scene I'd made. The blob was surprisingly small, but appeared to be composed of a viscous transparent green goo, a few of my teeth, and the rest of it was something rotten, probably portions of my respiratory system. Noticing that I was still dribbling a bit from my mouth I tried to bring my right arm up to wipe my mouth, it gave no respond. The left arm made a sufficient substitute, and soon enough my hand was covered in viscous green goo, and a lurid blue liquid. Trying to shake it off I noticed that there was a trail of the unnatural looking stuff leading back to the point of my imminent death.
- If I could have stood up then, I would have taken myself to the doctor to receive euthanasia and a complimentary lollipop, but my legs were only slightly more responsive than my right arm. As it were, I'd be doing the check up on my own. Manoeuvring myself into a sitting position with my functional arm, I was taken aback by the by the depth of the wounds left from the sores. Some seemed to go down to the bone, but that couldn't have been right, my arm was still moving. The skin around these wounds, and likely all over me had gone from a deathly white to mottled grey, I must have looked to like a long dead corpse to anyone who didn't know better, the truth was much worse. Using my heavily perforated but still working left arm I gingerly brought my right arm up for inspection. A hole bore into my wrist, nearly a half inch in before it gave way to unidentifiable bacteria ravaged flesh. It was time to see the real extent of the damage, probing the wound with a single arthritic finger immediately stopped by the sound of something brittle snapping. There was no need to go any further, I knew all I wanted to.
- Letting my destroyed right arm hit the ground with a crunch worthy of the worst internet snuff films, I scanned my environment fully for the first time today. Letting my eyes adjust to the harsh light I now noticed that my small living space was much tidier than 8 and a half hours ago, numerous boxes of important supplies apparently having vanished overnight. Thankfully the cacophony of the alarm clock had ceased by then and left me to contemplate the sounds around me. Something was happening in my kitchen, more importantly something not done by me.
- Finding the remaining strength in my legs, I began the arduous process of bringing my self to my feet. Even with the assistance of my nearby sofa it took nearly a minute of almost a minute to achieve uprightness. Letting go of the armrest I took my first shaky step toward my home's intruder, it went well enough. Bringing my other leg up was a mistake, all the remaining weight of my body descended on the weakened bones of my planted leg, and the pressure became unbearable, the bones snapped and threw me face first onto an unforgiving hardwood floor. People normally scream when their femur snaps like a twig, aside from a dull pain resonating from where my nose met birch wood and lost, I felt almost nothing. Lifting my head to keep my sight focused towards the source of the noise in my kitchen I felt cold liquid pooling around my chin. Looking down a pool of the blue substance mentioned earlier with several brown streaks slowly spreading across the floor. There was no good reason for me to still be alive with that running through my veins, but there it was, very busily circulating itself bringing oxygen or whatever it was my cells needed now and running out through my smashed nose. Feeling another coughing fit coming on, I submitted and began trying to remove whatever had upset the remnants of my respiratory system. Before I knew it the coughing was over, and examining the floor in front of my I was down a few more teeth, some more "blood", some pieces of my own rotting flesh, and the green goo loosely holding it all together.
- Before I have up and let my head sink into the puddle of neon blue blood and less pleasant things, I heard a familiar voice for the first time in a week.
- "Anon, I fucked up breakfast, can I try again with the rest of the bacon?"
- There Jerry was, his tall thin frame noticeable even through his baggy clothing was towering above my crumpled decaying form.
- What I noticed the most was how pristine he looked compared to everything else, it was more than out of place here, it was wrong. Dragging myself towards whatever creature had taken Jerry's form and voice I wondered what's the most I could do to it, make it feel bad for caving my calcium leached skull in?
- It spoke again "Wow, this smoke is getting really bad, we should probably go outside."
- If this really was Jerry, he was being as sarcastic as ever, because it smelled and sounded like a fire had broken out in my kitchen. Stuffing my handgun into his back pocket and hoisting throwing me over his shoulder, hurriedly threw open the front door walked out of my home before the flames reached more combustible things. This sudden motion had set every still living nerve in my body on fire, giving me a good opportunity to judge my own physical condition. The joint between my right shoulder and the rest of the arm was giving a very effective reminder that it was still there, a dull ache in the back of my head had become a splitting pain that was causing even my face to hurt, and it seemed that the upper portion of my torso had come alive in agony as well. All this condensed into a rising nausea and ended with me vomiting on my friend's jacket.
- "Oh come on, the party last night wasn't that wild." I guess Jerry, or whatever this thing would go by had a sarcastic quip for that as well. I was then that I for better or worse, decided to pass out.
- Significantly longer than it took for cheap vinyl seating to become deeply irritating I came to my senses and immediately made an effort to unstick my face from the awful surface. The skin that had settled on the seat had been determined to stay in place and succeeded in that goal. Trying to ignore that I checked my immediately visible anatomy. My right arm could move now, in spite numerous broken bones, but the skin around my wounds, which were really just holes by now, had given way to a solid looking black... stuff. Having sat uncomfortably in my peripheral vision for long enough, I examined my left "arm". It didn't really have that description any more, arm carries implications of manipulators that haven't fused into a perforated mass of black... chitin? Was that really it? Burying that notion I turned my head to get a better look at my surroundings. I concluded that I was in the back seat of a sedan, oriented such that I could not see the driver, and that it was now late into the day. Trying to sit my self upright I realized that my legs were attached to my body in a truly alien manner, my legs themselves weren't right either. Content with pushing myself up enough to see the my face in the rear view mirror, I examined what else had gone wrong with my face.
- The skin stretched over it was tearing apart, revealing more of the invading black chitin beneath, and my recognizable features looked ill suited to the skull (exoskeleton?) beneath. More striking changes were the curved, jet black spike that had bore it's way through my forehead and made itself prominent there, and my massively disproportionate eyes. The same bright blue colour as my blood, without even a pupil to give a hint where they were gazing. Looking deeply into those soulless orbs I wondered if this happened, or will happen to everyone in this town, possibly even beyond. Dropping my head back to the seat I wondered how Jerry got back to normal, or more accurately, assumed the appearance of normality. There is nothing normal about breaking into a friend's house in the middle of the night, and kidnapping your friend as it burns down. I let my eyes fall closed, and began hoping that this would all blow over, somehow things could all go back to the way they were. It all hurt a lot more when I realized I now lacked tear ducts.
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