Flash Fiction Friday: Reverse Osmosis

This filtration system is bad to the bone

It’s easy to forget what life was like when you were a kid, and how things seemed so much simpler. As I sit here now, in my current state, I can’t help but think back to my formative years, when TV ads would shape me.

I’m sure you all remember the months leading up to Christmas. How you would drop casual hints to your parents whenever the newest toy landed on the TV screen. You’d mention how cool it looked or how it would be the perfect addition to some meaningless collection. When you opened your gifts and the object of your desire was there, it felt like you’d performed some magical mind trick on your parents. More often than not, though, the thing you wanted ended up being a piece of junk or something you tossed aside after a few uses. I learned quickly that salespeople where the devil in disguise.

At some point in adulthood, I forgot that lesson.

I don’t remember exactly how the salesman got inside my house, or why the idea of a reverse osmosis filtration system sounded like something I needed. Maybe it was being reminded of how much money I wasted on bottled water, or how the stuff that I was bathing in was filled with chemicals that were almost certainly damaging my skin. My thinning hairline was almost certainly due to standing in a shower of tainted water every single day.

I found myself nodding when the salesman highlighted the benefits of reverse osmosis filtration. I may even have smacked my lips after sampling the bottle of water he handed to me as part of the sales pitch. I was sold before he finished with the presentation.

In the beginning, the system worked as advertised. This was not the plastic spaceship that didn’t fly the way they showed in ads. Oh no, this was the real deal. I was routinely drinking delicious water from the tap, spending longer in the shower, and congratulating myself on a purchase that would deliver a lifetime of benefits.

And then things changed.

It began with an aching from within, the same feeling that we called growing pains when we were kids. While not pleasant, it wasn’t too painful, at least not right away. It wasn’t until the first bone broke though skin that the real pain began. On that day, the pain was reaching new levels, so I hobbled into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. Instead of relieving the pain, it became worse, ending with bones piercing through both shins. Instead of blood, though, a milky white fluid escaped, swirling slowly down the drain in a way that became almost hypnotic.

The pain was such that driving to the ER was impossible, especially now that more bones were breaking free from every part of my body. I wished that I could black out and escape the torture, but I remained awake through the transformation. By the time it was done, I was a living exoskeleton, the bones acting as a cage of sorts.

I found then that I could move, but it was very much against my will. The exterior bones moved on their own, leading me over to the sink. I reached out and turned on the faucet, gagging as a bony proboscis emerged from my mouth. It moved into the water flow and drank, sending the cold, delicious liquid cascading down my throat.

Now, I sit and wait until the thirst comes again and I can drink. I can no longer see, but I can feel the transformation kicking into gear again.

I’m not sure what I will become.