Based on a prompt (“A.B.” thank you for telling me about your nightmare). Warning: Psychological horror and gore.
How it started, no one knew. Worst of all, few could afford to ponder it much now. Survival was not easy, and every single second spent unalert could lead to death.
There was time at first. Sadly, not many believed the calls for action and alarm. When all finally accepted the facts, it was all too late. Blood poured continuously, and the swarm became too big to contain.
The only choice was to hide. Running did win time, but never enough. It should be physically impossible, yet they could sense and smell prey, even if most did not have nostrils or eyes.
Yes, hiding was the better option… But not by much. Eventually, the slithering sounds crept into the basement, an ominous announcement of danger.
He held his breath, trying to get smaller against the boxes at the far end of the dark cellar. The huge slim shadow slid slowly but surely down the stairs, entering the room to look for him. With the door broken, the horrid smell hit him.
By now, he did not have much hope. Two days had passed, yet he had not seen or heard his parents. Food had been running short and desperation made them venture out the house. They would not be back; the presence of that thing was telling enough.
He would be next if he did not move. Problem was that he did not know if that would save him. It was a gamble.
There was no other way. He made up his mind when the monster lifted its weight in the center of the room, letting those entrails squirm in the air while it gazed over every corner and cranny. Just as it inched closer, he dashed.
The creature had no mouth, yet it made a guttural sound that resembled a screech. It tried to slam down onto him, but when it failed to crush him with its long centipede-like mass, it reached with the innards that dangled from its underside.
As he ran for the stairs and evaded its bloody grasp, it began to crawl to chase him. He was only slightly faster; luckily, it could not climb the stairs as fast as it had slid down. The guts that formed its limbs tangled fiercely to push its flesh towards him, but by the time it reached the upper hallway, he was gone.
The creature followed him into the garden outside. It crept a little through it, slinking between the tall trees to find his scent again. Eventually, it hissed and crept towards the main door, leaving a long trail of blood as it moved to search inside again.
A long sigh escaped him. He leaned back against the big lemon tree, taking some time to brush the flowers at his side. When he ripped one off and held it close for some comforting distraction, he could not help but squirm in disgust.
He let go of the flower; ripping it reminded him all too much of what that thing would have done to him. Many others roamed out there, and all would have torn off his limbs and taken them. They grew that way.
The garden offered some security, but he could not stay. That slender mass of entrails would crawl back out in no time. Their searches for prey were incessant, desperate. Flesh would rot… but that did not stop them; it only made them more eager for fresh additions.
Past the tall lush branches of the tree, he could see the sky. The clouds were not the only thing he saw. An eerie flapping sound echoed, faint at first. For it, he stayed still. The noise intensified, eventually turning into a cacophony.
Shadows passed the garden, which he eyed apprehensively and in disgust. Like a swarm of bats, a rush of torn threads of skin flew over his home, twisting rapidly to defy gravity. It was only when they left the area that he moved. He walked through the old dirt road, heading for the main street of the secluded neighborhood. His hometown was painted in red, but he knew that cities had suffered much more.
Before getting into the streets, he broke a branch from a tree. There was an axe, yet he refused to pick it up as a weapon. He had seen others try to cut them apart. It was in vain. Any piece of flesh gained its own mind, as hungry and adamant to grow. Blunt force was what would help him most.
His steps echoed in the silence of the dusk; he was very aware of it. The street seemed empty, but it was only an apparent tranquility. The biggest monsters had moved on out of town in search of people… but critters remained.
He glared down at the ground, spotting a small shadow creeping out of a sewer gap at his right. It inched closer, finally letting him see at least twenty fingers tapping rapidly to lift the weight of the flesh.
Rage flowed in him; still, he controlled himself a little while swinging the heavy branch down. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he struck the deformed blend of fingers and hands, noting how the eyes that dangled from it flinched as if in pain.
Hit after hit, he kept letting out his anger onto one of the beings he could fend off. Eventually, it stopped moving, squirming instead. Apart from a couple of eyes and fingers that stuck out, it was only a pile of bloody gore that would struggle to unstick itself from the concrete.
He would have moved away then, but he found himself staring down at it. To be precise, one of its eyes. It was fixated on his, unblinking. A shiver ran down his spine when he noted the intensity of its attention. As well, he could not help but realize that its ochre tonality was all too familiar.
He refused to entertain that horrifying thought. A teen could only handle a certain amount of trauma. With the small scuffle, he made noise. He bolted when he heard more slithering sounds. More critters emerged from the surrounding houses, all headed for the street he stood on.
Somehow, he evaded them. The swarm was too far off to head for him as well. They lost his trail when he spotted a water tower, which he climbed to gain ground. He crouched there, eyeing the shadows that gathered below.
A mass layered with torn arms rolled chaotically by the tower, able to sense his presence but unaware of his exact location. Apart from other masses full of eyes and fingers, there was only another big one, but its length composed of merged legs was not adept enough to climb.
None were big enough to have much wit, and that centipede made of guts did not gather with them. After some minutes, all lost interest and returned to the houses they had lurked in, remembering they found their most recent victims there.
He stood very still, for hours. Hunger was tiring, but he could barely ponder that fact, shell- shocked. It was only when the sun began to rise that he finally regained his mind a little, enough to stand.
At first, he considered getting down to look for a better hiding spot. Sadly, he froze instead, enthralled by the distant horizon. It was not due to admiration for the view, but horror.
He could see the fields and roads that preceded the city in the distance. Better said, what crept in it. A small chuckle escaped him, his mind unable to comprehend the gore that slithered in them, all too chaotic yet sentient. The outlines of the skyscrapers were red, covered in red threads. On them, if his vision had been as sharp as the one of hawks, he would have seen countless unblinking eyes and twisting limbs.
His laughter grew louder, and the branch fell from his hand, forgotten. He did not move at all while multiple masses gathered below the tower, broken.