TTW-25 (Patreon)

Thomas awoke later in the night. His finger had been stinging and he wanted to change the bandage. He hadn't wanted the witches to notice his cut, so he'd stripped the bandage off after the protomatter incident.It was in an awkward place, in the webbing between his index and middle fingers.

He padded down to the kitchen, and grabbed the first aid kit. First he cleaned the wound again with Alcohol, then used a butterfly bandage to seal the two seams of skin closed. He fervently hoped none of that gunk had gotten inside, but he figured the bandage had at least held through the initial flood.

As he peered at it, he noticed something strange.

Pulling a flashlight out of a kitchen drawer, he held it up close to his face.

Infinitesimal sparks of what could only be called darkness spiraled around the wound. It was a strange pattern, not random at all, but appeared to be in a spiral, the fibonacci sequence.

He grabbed the bottle of balsamic vinegar and sprinkled some rosemary. Then he took a pad of gauze and dipped it into the solution, and rubbed it over his wound.

He helped a bit, clamping his jaw down, as the pain drove spiked into his hand. After debreeding it for a time with the soaked gauze, he poured alcohol on it again, and peered down at it.

No more tiny little spiral.

Rolling his eyes, he thanked his lucky stars, then wrapped the wound again in the butterfly bandage, and gauze.

He grabbed a banana, peeled it and ate it, then headed back upstairs To his sleeping wife.

***

Later while he was working the saw and making his third chessboard since arriving in Willowbrook, he paused, caught by the sunlight casting shadows on the back of the shed.

It was so beautiful. The way the tiny motes of sawdust floating upwards as if the light itself was pulling it away from the shadow. Light, and dark, Shadow and stream.

He passed his hand through the light, watching as the motes cascaded around, swirling and circling.

The light on his hand felt…wrong. He glanced up into the overcast sky, and winced, shutting his eyes.

He drew the blinds, walking back to the saw so he could get back to work.

***

Esmerelda came out a bit later, bringing a pitcher and glass of sweet tea.

"Bonjour, my 'usband. How doez zee work go today."

"Fine, just fine," he said. He took the glass from her, and drank it. When had he become so thirsty?

"Aww, you were thirsty!" she said, pouring another glass.

Thomas frowned, then grabbed the pitcher and guzzled the tea.

"Ugh, need some more," he said, his voice a parched desert.

He went out to the back of the house where it was shady, then turned on the hose. Esmerelda followed him. He put the hose in his mouth and drank for quite a while, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterward.

"Goodness, my 'usband. Maybe you should come in and relax awhile. You are dehydrated."

He nodded. He did feel a bit lightheaded.

As he walked through the grass, he found the sunlight annoyingly bright. He shaded his face and head as much as he could, but the brightness played havoc with his vision and made it even harder to see.

Back inside, Esmerelda had lit all the indoor lamps. He quickly turned them down, something about the bright light irritated him.

"Are you altright?" Esmerelda said, looking at him with a frown.

"Yeah," he sighed, rubbing his head. "Think I might be coming down with a migraine. I'm going to go sleep for a bit."

"Très bien, mon Cher." Esmerelda said. "I will be up shortly."

Thomas nodded, then went up to the bedroom.

It was blissful in the dark, so peaceful and serene. He found himself craving a smaller space, and crammed himself under the bed. He wanted to be in the dark, in a small space. He wished there was something at his feet, but it was okay for tonight. Tomorrow he would fashion something that would work a bit better.

He was deep asleep, dreaming of avarice and hunger, when she woke him up. "What are you doing under zere, mon cher?"

Frowning, he looked up at her. What had he been doing?

"Uh, not sure. I think something rolled under here and I went to find it?" He pulled himself out from under the bed, then slid between the sheets. "Ugh, I'm so tired," he said, and found himself asleep again.

In the morning, Esmerelda threw back the curtains.

"Ow, Jesus!" Thomas cried, shielding his eyes. "Close them! What the hell are you doing?"

Frowning, Esmerelda left them open. "You must wake up, my 'usband, it is morning."

"I'm tired, hon." He rolled over, pulling the covers over him. "Let me sleep."

"I weel give you two more hourz, but then I will wake you up with a tickle attack!"

Thomas nodded, waving his arms, wanting her to go away.

Thomas slipped back into the dream. In it, he was helping his father cut sheaves of hay. He had a huge sickle and he whopped whopped whopped through the corn. Somewhere, he could hear his father yelling at him to chop faster! And Thomas obeyed.

Esmerelda came in sometime later and shook him. "Wake up mon Cher!"

Rolling onto his back, Thomas looked up at her. Everything seemed funny. Was there something wrong with his eyes?

"Babe, I'm having a hard time seeing. Can you turn on the light?"

"I have already turned on zee light my—"

Esmerelda's voice faltered. He could hear her breathing rapidly.

"Babe?" he said. "What's going on?"

"Thomas, tell me what you are feeling right now?" He knew Lydia's panic voice. Strange, that her accent dropped when Lydia inside of Esmerelda felt paniced.

"Why, hon? What's wrong?"

He tried to get up out of the bed, but he was wrapped up in the covers somehow. "Babe, please turn on the light, I can't see anything!"

"Thomas hold still," Esmerelda, no Lydia, said. "Look, something has happened, and I need you to just relax for a moment, okay? I'm going to come around and turn on the light."

"Okay." He waited for the light to turn on, but it never happened. He could hear her increasing the gas in the lamp, but it was still very dark. He tried moving his head from side to side, trying to catch any kind of flicker of light.

"Is it on?" he said.

"Yes, honey, it's on." Lydia's voice was very close.

"Why can't I see?"

He could hear Lydia swallowing. Thomas reached up to find her.

"Babe, you don't have any eyes."

"What?" he again tried to sit up, but his body felt very strange. He knew the dresser mirror should be just in front of the bed. He slid out of bed, expecting to be on his feet, but something wasn't right, it was like his feet were numb or something. He could feel the edge of the bed, and slid over toward the mirror.

"Babe, let me take your, uh…hand."

Thomas held out his hand, seeking hers. He made contact, but couldn't open his fingers? "What the hell is going on with my fingers?"

"You…ah…don't have any of those either," she swallowed, and Thomas could tell she was trying to hold back a scream? As if something about his body so repulsed her, she could barely stand too touch him?

"What do you mean, I don't have fingers? What do I have?"

"Well, hon, you've been through a metamorphosis. I don't know how to explain this…"

"Well try!" he barked, sounding harsher than he wanted.

"As far as I can tell you don't have any bones. Or hands. You are…well, basically you're a mouth surrounded by a bunch of tentacles."

"What?" Thomas said, and he started to thrash. Lydia let go of his hand, and he moved toward the mirror.

"Why can't I see anything?" He screamed, trying to lift himself up onto the dresser. He heard things break, and something stabbed into him from somewhere.

He…squealed was the best word. It was a sharp pain, but he was able to eject it from his body. Somehow.

"Baby, you need to calm down." Lydia's voice sounded frantic. "I've notified the coven and they're on the way."

"What if they kill me or something?"

"I won't let them do that."

And that's when he noticed it. He didn't know if it was the thrashing, or the fact something had embedded itself in his skin and he had to eject it.

He was hungry.

Like, really hungry.

Ravenous in fact.

That's when he was finally able to sense something near him. It was warm flesh, and so near he could almost taste it.

"Uh, babe?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't happen to bring a, um…steak into the bedroom or anything did ya?"

"No, dear. Are you hungry? Do you need me to go get one?"

"Mhmm. Yeah. Bring all the food."

"I'm sorry?"

He almost lost control then, the food was right there. He could feel it moving with some kind of sense. Hunger sense? "BRING ALL THE FOOD!"

And he heard Esmerelda leave the room.

Locking the door behind her.