I’ve been talking about my 8-Bit Horrors project quite a bit on here, so I thought it might be a good idea to share one of them. You can check them all out HERE, but for now, enjoy.
The office cubicle always felt tight and stuffy, especially given that the closest overhead AC vent seemed a million miles away. Blinking away the sweat dripping into his eyes, Mytch Barnes hammered away at his keyboard with a ferocity generally saved for those with anger issues or latent sexual frustrations. Mytch had neither, but he did have an itch on his right pinkie finger that refused to quit.
His cubicle neigbor, James, popped his head over the divide, eyes wide as he watched Mytch pound the keyboard. “Everything okay there, my friend?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mytch snapped.
“Well, you are beating your keyboard like it owes you money. You know damn well that the boss will not sign off on a new one if anything happens to it.”
Stopping mid-type, Mytch turned to his buddy and sighed. “You’re right. Look, sorry for snapping, but I’m having a day.” He plucked a bunch of tissues from the square box sitting on his desk and wiped away the excess sweat from his brow and upper lip, wishing he also had a private space in which to attend to his sopping wet pits and undercarriage.
Brow furrowed, a look of concern spread across James’ face. “It’s not that hot, buddy. You really don’t look so good.”
Mytch rubbed at the itchy spot on the side of his finger, feeling a small lump beginning to form under the skin. That was something new, and it only added to the feeling of anxiety that was worming its way into the pit of his belly. He suddenly felt like throwing up, but he swallowed hard, choking it down.
Every sound in the oversized office space seemed to coalesce into one massive hum, making Mytch feel as though his head was about to explode. He let out a shriek, which joined the droning sound an amped up the volume, when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Wheeling around and almost toppling his chair, Mytch was relieved to see James as the one administering the touch.
“We need to get you outside,” James said, eyes darting towards the door of the office manager. “Larkin is gone for the day, so we can sneak outside for a breath of air.”
“What about Jonesy?” Mytch asked, referring to the boss’ assistant, a little pissant who would have been very much at home in the Gestapo.
“He went with him. We are free for the day, buddy.”
Without any further prompting, Mytch stood and headed for the elevators. “Let’s do this. I need to get out of this goddam rat cage.”
They rode down to the ground floor in silence, Mytch trying to think of something to silence buzzing in his ears while James looked on with an ever-growing look of concern that was almost fatherly.
As soon as the elevator doors pinged open, Mytch sprinted for the exit, flashing his pass at the security guard as he stepped outside. The surrounding air was filled with exhaust fumes and a miasma of foods wafting from sidewalk food vendors, but it felt like heaven to Mytch compared to the stifling interior of the office.
James sauntered out, puffing on a vape that looked like something out of the Star Wars universe. Before he reached Mytch, he jumped backward and yelled, “Look at the size of that thing.”
A large spider scuttled along the sidewalk, bold yellow markings along its back and legs. Mytch bent down to take a closer look and almost leaned into James’ foot, which came down on the arachnid with a sickening crunch, sending little splatters of green blood in all directions. Mytch leapt back to avoid the spray and landed on his behind, the impact sending what felt like an electric jolt up his spine.
“Shit, buddy, are you okay? I didn’t mean…”
Mytch leaned forward and expelled what seemed like everything he had eaten in the past month. The spray of vomit covered the crushed spider, its mangled legs twisting under the onslaught. The vomit had barely left his mouth before his finger started itching furiously again. Mytch rubbed at the spot, feeling the lump shift and grow bigger with each rub. The world seemed to move, too, as though he were looking at it through a kaleidoscope. He closed his eyes to make it stop, which it did, as did the hum that had followed him from upstairs.
Getting to his feet on wobbly legs, Mytch leaned against the office building and looked over at James. His friend was starting back, mouth hanging open like some simpleton. “I’m going home.” Mytch mumbled as he hailed a passing cab.
“I think that’s a good idea, buddy. Get some rest.”
As he fumbled to insert his key in the lock of the apartment door, Mytch couldn’t help but notice that the lump on his hand was now a finger. This was not some protrusion that looked like a finger, it was a fully formed digit, complete with a perfectly manicured nail.
He finally found his way inside, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake as he undressed for bed. Given the layer of perspiration that now covered every inch of his body, the idea of a shower seemed appealing. The call of his bed overrode all other thoughts, though, so he carried on into the bedroom and collapsed onto the soft, welcoming mattress. As he began to nod, he noticed a ragged hole along the baseboard, but he forgot all about it as he slipped into dreamless sleep.
Mytch might have slept forever had he not rolled over and placed all his weight on his injured hand. He snapped wide away, shaking the appendage as he hissed in pain. The hand was a blur as he waved it madly, but even with the movement, he could see that more fingers were sprouting from the new digits. When he stopped the waving, Mytch inspected his deformed hand and noticed a pair of puncture wounds beside the pinkie. Seeing those holes reminded him of the one he had spied in his wall before falling asleep.
The room was now mostly dark, suggesting that Mytch’s nap had taken him into the early hours of the morning. Wiping away the crust from his eyes with his good hand, Mytch stood and looked in the direction of the hole. He snatched his phone off the bedside table, grumbling loudly as he saw that it was in battery saver mode. His charger was still plugged in back at the office, while his spare was in the kitchen junk drawer. Figuring he had enough battery for the task at hand, he powered on the phone flashlight and shone it toward the hole.
His knees popped loudly as he crouched down to shine the light inside, cursing himself for not flicking on the overhead light. His brain didn’t feel like it was working as it should, so he quickly dismissed the scuffling sound from inside the hole as the same symptom that caused him to hear that godawful hum back at the office.
Leaning in closer, Mytch shone the light into the hole, which on closer inspection, appeared to have been chewed open, given that the rough edges looked suspiciously like teeth marks. He thought of the puncture wounds on his hands and shuddered, suddenly feeling as though he was going to vomit again.
The feelings of nausea were quickly dismissed as pain throbbed through his hand, which was quickly turning into some sort of finger monster. Jumping up, he sprinted across the room and flicked on the light, looking in horror as another finger sprouted, with eight of them now spread out across his swollen hand.
I need to cut it off. The idea popped into his head from out of nowhere, catching Mytch off guard like a slap in the face. He shook his head, seeking to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts pushing him in the direction of self-harm.
Any thoughts of the fingers now growing on his hand stalled when he saw something peek out of the hole. It looked like a human eye stuck on the end of a finger, like some weird Halloween prop. The eye blinked as another finger popped into view, a different colored eye nestled on top of that one.
“This isn’t happening,” Mytch cried, pressing his back against the wall as the thing emerged from the hole. It’s bloated body was covered in coarse hair, six spindly legs made from elongate human fingers propping it up. A pair of long, knuckled digits poked out of the top of the unnatural body, eye on top moving independently of one another. The hand spider surveyed the room, creeping cautiously toward Mytch.
The lights flicker as the creature moved, creating strobe effect that made its build look all the more unnatural. Mytch decided it was time to get moving, but his messed up hand had other ideas. It began to reach in the direction of the approaching arachnid, the skin at the wrist stretching and coming undone.
Mytch screamed as his flesh tore open, tendons and sinews popping like pinched bubble wrap as the hand detached itself from his body. Mytch looked on on horror as his hand stretched and flexed, the fingers growing longer and turning into legs that struggled to stand, much like a newborn doe.
The other spider swayed back and forth, a slit opening in its bulbous body to reveal a row of sharp, serrated teeth that were almost certainly responsible for chewing open the hole in the drywall. It hissed and hummed, making encouraging sounds at the newborn creature born from Mytch’s severed hand.
The new creation turned, a pair of fingers emerging from its body in the form of stalks. The only thing missing was the eyes, but Mytch could tell what it had in mind. He turned for the bedroom door, only to be tripped by the original creature, which has quickly scuttled across the floor to impede his path.
He went down hard, his breath leaving his body in a whoosh. Both spiders crawled up his body, the original arachnid pointing one of its legs in the direction of Mytch’s face, more hissing noises coming from its hellish maw. The newborn hurried up Mytch’s body, and before he could protect himself, it drove its stalks into his eyes, removing both with an audible pop.
Mytch screamed again, clawing at the empty sockets with his one good hand, finding nothing but a stream of milky pus that slid down his cheeks like barely cooked egg whites.
The spider creatures swayed in place, watching Mytch writhe on the floor for a moment, before bolting for the hole in the wall. They slid inside and disappeared into the darkness, off in search of a new tenant they could use to grow their family.
Man, this was wild in the best way. The slow build from office-itch to full-on body horror was chef’s kiss.
I already hated spiders, but now I really hate them! This is gruesome, but good stuff. There are a few grammatical errors, but other than that, good job.