Wednesday's Three Word Wednesday

The words over at Three Word Wednesday are fragile, rampant and tremor. This is short and tense, as I got my stuff Monday and I’m still unpacking.

Tremors
Bent awkwardly in the mid-section, he rests his ass on a chipped metal gate, but the puke won’t come.
The tremors started hours ago, and like a pregnant woman’s contractions, they’re coming at shorter and shorter intervals.
An east wind blows warm across his skin. It carries with it the scent of fried foods, wet paper, a slight whiff of sewer gas. The breeze races over his skin, upsetting an already fragile condition.
“Huuuuurcccchh.”
Viscous drool, clear and bubbly, escapes bluish-purple lips.
Passers-by give him an even wider berth than normal; a baby in a stroller looks back, catches his eyes, and begins to wail.
“Huuuugrrgggllll.”
He spits once, and a tooth hits the concrete. He spits again. Each mouthful of saliva carries with it more teeth.
Even he’s surprised at the lack of blood.
“Urrrrcchhhhh.”
There’s something rising from the pit of his belly. His throat tastes of bile, bitterness. He stands, wobbly, puts a hand on the gate, bends to vomit.
“Huutttrtrrrrccch.”
Droplets of blood, dark crimson, fall from his outstretched mouth and onto the broken concrete like raindrops. His mouth feels slick; he flicks his tongue across toothless gums and whimpers.
He’s fighting for breath.
His fingers constrict, turn into claws and rip at his throat. It’s shutting off his airway. His forehead turns scarlet, then purple, the veins in his temples pulsate blue. The whites of his eyes are filling with blood, as capillaries burst from the pressure.
Falling to his knees, he looks through nearly dead eyes and a dizzying haze at the crowd that’s been drawn to him, a circle of gawkers. He wants to tell them to run very fast, run far, far away.
There’s one last push.
“Huuuuurrrrcccccckkkkspplechk.”
His lifeless flesh hits the pavement. A woman screams.
But it’s free, breathing on its own, looking for new hosts.
The crowd scatters in panic. There are sirens in the distance, urgent, converging.
Across the static of radios, there’s worry in the dispatchers’ voices. The calls are now rampant across the city. Sickness, vomiting. Something else.
Something. What? Alive?
There’s too many calls.
Just way too many.

28 comments:

omj said...

I feel like I need to clean my monitor after that. :) Nice Halloween take on the prompt!

Tony Noland said...

Well done! This went from WTF to OMG - nice.

Angel said...

Very fitting for this time of year!

Zouxzoux said...

Ewwwwww!

rebecca said...

Hmmm.....more, more!

ms pie said...

bodysnatchers!!!... oh that was sooooo good!!! especially so the baby looking into his eyes... change me

Sumit Sarkar said...

Amazingly written...
reminded me of the fringe series...

Deborah said...

Wow, I could see the whole thing...brilliantly written!!

asuqi said...

Yay! Love the alien-concept, always! Nice Halloweenish take on the prompt =)

Susannah said...

Excellent writing, so vividly written! Loved the baby catching his eye.

Nice one!

My 3WW

jaerose said...

The end really threw acurve ball. I was expecting a merciful resolution and then something sinister came forth..Jae

sharplittlepencil said...

Thom, this was not a poem I should have read when I'm in the house alone all weekend! Scared the crap out of me, but you know how I love your writing. Visceral. A little touch of Shyamalan in the night... LOL

Glad your stuff came. Now where will you put it all? Amy BL

gautami tripathy said...

I really liked the descriptions. Fitting for Halloween! And you know I love dark...

corners

Janet Lingel Aldrich said...

That was a lovely thought just before bedtime. Will never feel quite the same about being ill again.

Carrie said...

Yuck Thom. How dare you try to make me go ewww. Ha. Grandiose disgusting masterwork.

pegjet said...

A visceral hurl... nice.

Eric J. Krause said...

Good one! Disturbing and gross and creepy all at once.

Sam said...

I feel decidely queasy after reading this...but it's a good sort of queasy.

Marisa Birns said...

So good that I'm reading this in early a.m. Means that I will put back all the unhealthy junk food I wanted for breakfast.

Oatmeal for me. Sigh.

Great descriptions, scary ending.

Well done!

Jen Brubacher said...

Oh so, so brilliant this one--Being right there with him, to his death, is visceral and awful. This is maybe one of my favourite "spooky" stories of the season. Terrific.

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

You have a great way of drawing us such a clear picture, it's impossible not to be sucked in and look around ourselves for the critter that just escaped.

This is perfect Halloween fun.

Netta said...

G-ross. Blergh. Truly a disgusting work of brilliance. I felt the heaving in my guts and now...now, I have put dinner on hold.

Gargh.

:) (Nice job!)

JanePoet Version 3.0 said...

intense. can apply some of what i'm going through with my son right now to this ... bit comforting.

peace,
JP/d

Quin Browne said...

How weird is it that I started coughing mid-way though this?

Nicely done.

Vivek said...

Vivid and visceral. As always, your writing packs a punch.

Jeeves said...

Nice one!!!Halloween treat

Steve Green said...

disgustingly, nauseatingly, brilliantly written. :)

I love the hint of the carnage to come too, the multitude of reports coming in.

Sh@s said...

Well-written. I could imagine the entire scene :)