Godless Monkey will be away on a photo expedition of Mexico, Central America and Columbia from March 19th to April 20th. I’m running some of my old stories in my absence for your enjoyment.
Blake hung up the phone from his lengthy explanation to his boss satisfied that he had gotten across the point that he would be back as soon as he possibly could. He was grateful for the brief respite from thinking directly about what was happening to him, but now he had nothing else to do. Here he was, lying in a hospital bed, not knowing what was happening, dreading what might come next.
He didn’t have long to dread. As he laid there a surge of twisting, burning pain gripped him in the middle of his chest and began slowly moving upward till it was right between his eyes. He reached for the button to summon the nurse, but he couldn’t find it, and moving his head to look for it was seemingly impossible. The pressure in his head was immense and once again he felt his mind skew and a foreign presence took over.
Against his will he slipped out of the bed an moved to the cabinet nearby and removed his clothes and began putting them on. He began hoping that someone, anyone, would come in and ask him what he was doing, but no one came. Dressed, he walked out of the room and down the hall to the stairs where he descended to the ground floor and out onto the street.
He was striding with purpose now, trying with all his will to stop himself, but he was not in control. He could only observe helplessly as he moved toward some unknown destination. The pressure in his head continued unabated, but he was unable to feel any pain now. It was as though he were merely a visitor in his own body, an observer of this macabre event, awaiting an unknown fate.
Some time later he turned down a street of abandoned houses awaiting urban renewal, signs warning of danger within and no trespassing notices. He approached one of the buildings and reached out his hand and tried the knob. It turned with a rasping creak and he went inside. He stood near a wall with yellowed, peeling wallpaper and felt the pressure in his head move downward through his whole body. He was vibrating now, and he began removing his clothes in earnest.
Something was about to happen. He could feel it. A cold steel dread rose in his mind, a sense of horror blooming as he got an inkling of what was shortly to come. It was too grotesque to contemplate, and he tried desperately to shut it out. Suddenly he could feel his hands rising to his face as the pressure and pain reached a fever pitch. His mind recoiled in horror as his fingernails dug into the flesh of his forehead and cheeks and ripped away strips of flesh from his face.
He body was vibrating now at a tremendous rate and he could feel a seam open up down the center line of his body and his hands grasped either side of the seam and pulled his flesh away, the skin and tissue sloughing off easily, right down his arms and off of his fingers. His eyes looked down at a completely new body revealed beneath the cast-off flesh of what had been him only moments before, gleaming with some unholy viscous fluid that was rapidly drying as his mind reeled in horror.
His new self moved to a large broken piece of mirror leaning against a far wall and admired the image there. As the last of Blake’s mind disintegrated he heard the alien voice speak to it’s image in the mirror.
“We have much good work ahead of us. It’s time to begin.”