From The Archives #3 - Within These Walls

One of my old flash pieces brought back to life

This one came from a prompt issued by someone in a horror group that I belong to. When you ask for prompts, you tend to get a lot of requests for bugs, mirrors, and talking dolls, so it tends to be all about finding a different angle from which to approach common themes. For this one, I imagined a man being driven made by the sounds of scratching bugs, but the twist was that the sound was not coming from anywhere he imagined. This was originally posted on Nov 7, 2025.

WITHIN THESE WALLS

Eric sat on his couch, watching the man work and trying to resist the urge to grab him and toss him out on the street. The Pest Ninja website had promised professional removal of all household invaders, but the guy they had sent was a walking disaster, tripping over himself and looking generally unkempt. In fact, he was the complete opposite of a ninja.

“Where are you specifically hearing the sounds?” the pest technician asked, mouth hanging open.

“Everywhere, but it’s more active at night.”

“And it’s scratching you hear?”

Eric clenched his fists, the knuckles white enough to make it appear as though bones had torn through flesh. “I believe that’s what I told you the first three times you asked.”

Ignoring the jab, the man turned back to the wall and proceeded to poke and prod with all manner of tools before finally giving up. “I’m not seeing any traces of pests, which is not surprising given how clean your place is. I can lay out some traps, just to be sure.”

“That would be great,” Eric said, believing it to be the furthest thing from a great solution.

That night, Eric lay in bed, anger still simmering, as he thought about the money he had shelled over for nothing. He promised himself that he would place a call to the Pest Ninja office in the morning and give those fuckers a piece of his mind.

Scritch. Scratch. Scritch

The sound seemed impossible loud in the quiet of his home. “You little fuckers.” Eric leaped out of bed and pressed his ear to the wall, the sounds from within tickling his ear. “I’m going to kill all of you as soon as I find you.”

Bolting downstairs, the scratching sound still reverberating around the house, Eric pulled open to door to his storage closet, throwing everything out until he found what he wanted - his Louisville Slugger baseball bat. Taking a few practice swings, his high school championship ring glinting in the light, a grin spread across his face. “Let’s see you get away from Eric the Marauder.”

By the time he made it back upstairs, the scratching sound had reached fever pitch. Wasting no more time, Eric swung the bat with all his might, tearing open a hole in the drywall. “I told you, fuckers. I’m unstoppable. He swung again, but this time, the bat connected with a support beam, recoiling and bouncing back to catch Eric square in the forehead. He went down hard, screaming as his tailbone connected with the hardwood floor.

A gout of blood exploded from the cut opened by the bat on his forehead. He tried to stem the flow, but it oozed between his fingers, tickling him as it travelled to his wrist. It was then that he noticed the black squirming things swimming in the blood, appearing to feed as they fell.

The creatures fanned out across his flesh, their rubbing mandibles sounding just like the scratching within his walls. As he opened his mouth to scream, hordes of bugs burst free of every orifice to feed.

Scritch. Scratch.