It’s around the time of year where when you feel a tickle in your throat, there’s a little sense of dread. Here comes the yearly cold yet again…
But this year, it didn’t turn into sniffles and coughs as I’d unfortunately grown so accustomed to. A little cough, sure, but it was strange. It seemed to come back and not just as a slight sensation, it felt like something…More. Almost as if I’d swallowed a pill the wrong way but it didn’t choke me up.
I’d quickly grab some water and it’d clear up, so I didn’t resort to a doctor right away. Besides, I wasn’t exhibiting any other symptoms, so…
However, one night I awoke up gasping for breath, and though I’d kept some water on the nightstand, it didn’t occur to me to even try to drink it. I ran to the bathroom and tried to cough up whatever it was. I hacked and wheezed so hard it felt like my head could burst but all that came of it was some spit and mouth that grew dry as I desperately tried to breathe.
Finally it struck me to try to drink something so I hit the faucet and gathered water in my hands and tried to drink as much as I could and gradually I could breathe a little more. Eventually my breathing went back to normal and frightened but relieved I decided to give in and see a doctor.
The next day I felt the strange feeling in my throat even more as I waited for the doctor to arrive. Nervous to find out just what this was, I just stared at the little posters showing a cutaway of a human head and throat to give you an idea of what it was all like.
I started as the doctor knocked and entered, off in something of an anxious daze, and they went about the usual questions and tried to make me comfortable. They seemed a little confused at my description of what I was experiencing, but they took my word for it and began the examination.
“Go aah and open wide for me please,” the doctor said, as they began to look inside my throat. A few seconds passed as they moved their instrument about to examine everything.
“Well, I’m seeing nothing, but…” the doctor began to explain, “…Wait, there may be something…Did you feel that same feeling just now?”
My blood froze, I had felt it again…So then, what was the doctor seeing? What was there? The doctor could explain it, surely. The doctor had to have an answer, but…They just kept looking. Their face was pale, but transfixed by curiosity at whatever it was they were seeing.
I wanted to scream, I wanted to grit my teeth and just swallow whatever this thing was and let my body tear it apart, but I found I could do neither. I couldn’t breathe again, but this time, I felt it…Emerging.
I didn’t realize which community it was and figured it had to be about migrating ascariasis worms which might give vague respiratory symptoms and may come out of the nose or mouth. I thought the doctor had caught a glimpse of it wriggling out at the end.
Wait, was this inspired by migrating ascariasis worms?
A Fake Mustache
When I was babysitting, I watched a young person aspiring to become an actor. They loved costumes, and would make up their own little plays to which I was frequently both audience and participant. It could be exhausting, but I could really see the child improving little by little each time I watched over them. Their parents were supportive yet also careful to warn them of those that might try to take advantage or tear them down. Smart, kind folks.
One day as I was watching them, they were playing the part of an older man with a mustache, and while it looked a little ridiculous, I could see that this wasn’t intended to be a comedy. The old man was a stern sort with a slightly large chest, presumably modeled after someone the child had seen, maybe a friend of the parents. He grumbled over this and that as he struggled to accomplish something, but I couldn’t help noticing something seemed to change about the mustache.
It was a fake, to be sure, but it wasn’t like it was falling off their face. The kid had gotten pretty good at doing their own makeup and costuming with all of their acting.
As they wrapped up their brief little play, I offered to help them clean up the makeup and remove the mustache, but they told me no, they could do it themselves and knowing that they could, I hovered nearby but left them to it. As I waited, I heard all the usual sounds of changing, and this time a soft little ouch, I imagined as they removed the mustache.
But then, “Um…C-could you come in here?”
I stepped to the door and cracked it open, “You sure? Everything okay?”
“J-just come in.”
I stepped in and looked, at once confused and disturbed.
“Th-this isn’t part of the mustache. I don’t know where these came from.”
They were talking about the small worms writhing out of their nose and I suddenly realized, they weren’t wearing the shirt anymore and their stomach was swollen. What the fuck, how the fuck, the thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to soothe them and started calling emergency services and then the parents.
I was imagining fingers slowly trying to crawl their way out of your throat while I was reading this.
A Careless Cut
One evening I was out on a date with someone that insisted we go to a higher end restaurant. I knew they were trying to impress me and as one does, tried to talk them down to somewhere more modest, but they wouldn’t hear it. I had to admit, the place at least looked sharp, and the menu screamed expensive, yet I was still determined to compromise, I didn’t want them thinking I was about to be bought.
They were the type that had that vibe about them, y’know? So rather than be adventurous I settled on a simple salad with some grilled meat, nothing fancy, the most basic foods I could find on the menu. I’d appreciate the space but make it especially clear it really wasn’t necessary. My date being as they were, continued to try to impress me with some more exotic, expensive dishes, inviting me to try them.
Why was I even still going out with them? I thought as I noticed a strange feeling in my mouth. I’d just picked up some of the meat, but this both felt and tasted different from what I’d had so far. I slowed my chewing and began thinking of a way to politely spit out whatever it was I’d taken a bite of.
I looked around the room and spotted the sign for the bathroom, pointed it out to my date and gestured, “One moment,” as I got up and walked quickly to the bathroom. Finding an open stall, I spit up the thing I’d been chewing on, and it was…Thankfully nothing, just a nasty thick chunk of gristle.
I went back to my table and explained to my date what had happened, and they laughed, suggesting I should have tried what they were having, that there was nothing of the sort to be found in their food. I looked away from them and rolled my eyes, they were having some kind of meat too.
I continued eating and half-listening to them go on about…I don’t know, some extravagant dessert we should try or something, when I bit into something again that felt wrong, but this time…Different. It felt more like I may have accidentally bit my tongue, except…It wasn’t my tongue, nor the inside of my cheek, and then I felt it…Move. Had my obnoxious date slipped some seafood into my meal when I stepped away?
“…It’s just fantastic, we really should order so-,” my date was mid-ramble as I interrupted them asking them somewhat muffled, “Did you put some of your food in mine?”
Confused, they replied, “Uh…No. I wouldn’t even th…”
I leapt from my seat and ran to the bathroom. I was surprised I could even ask them that much through whatever was in my mouth, as it started moving even more as I asked, feeling like it was almost…Scratching? I stood at the sink before the mirror trying to see what it was, not caring about whatever food or spit fell out in the sink, but the lighting was terrible and so I scrambled for my phone, switching on the flashlight only to see…
…Severed tips of fingers poking up from the back of my throat. I coughed and hacked them up into the sink and fell to the ground shuddering. My thoughts racing, when I began to feel something more sliding its way up my throat, and I felt the urge to vomit as it crept further and further up. Stumbling to my feet, hand barely holding my phone as I held the sink counter with the other, I took one last look, and there were full, moving fingers poking up from the back of my throat, looking as if they were trying to pull themselves out, and…That’s the last I remember.
They found me having blacked out, and the severed fingertips in the sink and thought I’d succumbed to shock at the disturbing experience. Something about a mishap in the food prep and deliveries, but they chalked up the writhing fingers to trauma…
