The Period to end all periods. nosleep

OK, I Know what you’re about to read might sound crazy. Scratch that, It’s going to sound crazy. I can tell you that yours truly has a clean bill of mental health, but in the end, all you have to go on is my word.

Whether you choose to believe me or not, is entirely up to you dear reader.

I’m sure the next thing you’re asking yourself, is why am I posting this in the back corner of the internet. My response would be to refer you back to the beginning of this rant, to the whole “this might sound crazy” part.

Please bare with me while I try to get this all down as fast as possible. There's a good chance you’ll be sifting through a hefty pile of word Diarrhea.

My name Is Candice Carter. If this were a comic book, I’d probably be a superhero with a name like that. Unfortunately, this isn't a comic book, just a really screwed up story that begins with me in a bathroom, having just started the period to end all periods.

You remember that scene in “The Shining”, when the elevator doors opened, and a tsunami of blood came rushing out? Picture that, only instead of a hotel elevator, It was a human being. More importantly a human being who was on her third date with a guy who might have had long term relationship potential.

Sadly, all I could think about at that moment was the book of revelations scale disaster I’d have on my hands, legs, and pretty much everywhere else It was possible for blood to find Itself. To make matters worse, I suddenly became privy to the last thing a woman wants to be privy to in that situation.

I was out of tampons.

In a lot of ways, I blame myself for what was about to happen, as much as I blame the cluster fuck of events that led me to that exact bathroom, at that exact moment. I wondered how I left the apartment like that. What force on heaven or earth could have made me forget something that important.

The forecast hadn't called for possible rain, It predicted heavy downpour, hurricane Katrina style. Wait, Is It still too soon for me to say that?

Anyway, I checked my purse like five times while I sat on that cold toilet seat, cursing myself like a straight man at a Cher concert, I even found an epinephrine shot.

I guess the universe thought I had a better chance of getting violently stung by a rogue bee, then, I don’t know, drowning in a pool of my own bodily fluid. But hey, That was kismet, always around when you needed It to troll you the most.

In the minutes that passed, I finally managed to get a grip on things. At least enough to start formulating whatever lie I decided to tell Joel, my would be suitor, who had been waiting on me back at the table he probably executed a small family for.

I exited the stall and aimlessly wandered over to the sink to wash my hands. In the middle of my second soap scrub, I heard the door to the stall next to mine unlatch, then open. It took the woman exiting longer than It should have to reach the sink, considering how short of a walk It was.

When she finally appeared next to me, her inability to move at a normal pace instantly made sense.

Since I hate referring to people as “Guy” or “Girl” for extended periods of time, I’m just going to call this woman Horror Movie Helen, from here on out.

As we awkwardly locked eyes to the ambient backdrop of a running sink, I can tell you without the slightest amount of bitchyness, or exaggeration, that she earned her fake moniker with flying colors.

Helen seemed close to my age, a number that I will not disclose here. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her skin was clammy, and the whites of her brown eyes were cloudy.

The dress she was wearing was a few sizes too large for her. It wasn't because she bought off the rack wrong, It was more likely the result of sudden weight loss.

In an attempt not to stare any longer, I turned back to the sink, making an effort to seem way more into the art of hand washing than I really was.

Even while I stood there, scrubbing my hands like a paranoid CDC employee, I could still feel Helen staring longer than anyone should stare at another human being, outside of serial killers, and or rapists.

It was right at the moment when I was about to say something, that she initiated the slow, painful looking steps to wash her own hands. Already in a partial state of creeped out, I ended my hand washing marathon, and moved to the dryer.

I placed my pruning hands underneath the metal machine, before hitting the large button, igniting the rattling son of a bitch. The howling roar echoed through the bathroom.

Right when I got my soaked hands to a comfortable state of dryness, I glanced over at Helen. She was trying to speak to me, only her voice was drowned out by the miniature jet engine that continued to blow.

I made the obligatory “I can’t hear you motion”, but she continued to talk, as If unaware of the dryers existence. I decided to be more proactive, and yell across the room. This happened right as the dryer shut off.

Instead of sounding like someone engaging in civil conversation, I sounded like that person who annoyingly raises their voice when talking to deaf people.

“I asked If you needed a tampon”, Helen rasped out.

“Huh?”, I responded.

“I wasn't eavesdropping, I just heard you talking to yourself back there”, she said in the same exact monotone way that she spoke the first time.

“Uh, yeah, that would be great, I exclaimed as Helen’s strangeness began to take a backseat as the possibilities brought on by a spare tampon raced through my mind.

Helen hoisted a very expensive looking purse up at the edge of the sink area. She dug through The bags contents until she found what she was looking for.

“The wrapper came off, but don’t worry, It’s brand new”, Helen said, as she held out the item in question. I could tell right away that this was a tampon unlike any I had ever seen before.

It was a dark grey, like sunburnt concrete, and there was a series of intricate ridges going down the side of the would be chick sponge.

As the tampon transferred from Helen’s malnourished hand to my own, I could feel the prickly surface that oddly reminded me of that feeling a guys chin had after a day of not shaving.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”, I blurted out, without internally editing myself first.

Helen began to explain, saying that she was both a vegan as well as super allergic to most things store bought. The tampon was a brand that she ordered online. Hypo allergenic and good for the environment, because It was made from recyclable materials.

Her speech would have made a menstruating hippy cream herself.

I found myself less interested in what she was saying, and more of how she was saying It. Every word that came out of her mouth was pronounced slow and carefully. Hindsight being what It is, I think I was mistaking slow and careful for premeditated and rehearsed.

After becoming nearly bored to tears, I abruptly gave Horror Movie Helen the “Yeah, whatever” treatment and headed back into the stall to handle the big ass flag Japan just raised in my pants.

It took forever for Helen to finally exit the stall, Afterwards I got to know that tampon in the biblical fashion like so many others before It. While I did feel a tinge of slight discomfort from the way my new friend seemed to be positioned, I simply wrote It off as a fair trade for convenience.

I straightened myself up and left the bathroom to rejoin Joel, who was engrossed in a game of angry birds. Once I sat back down at the table, The dinner would continue on like normal, right until I was about to order desert.

Before the word “Cheesecake” could escape my lips, I felt a pain that made me jump in my seat.

“I’m fine”, I told Joel, the expression on my face indicating otherwise. I tried to order again, hoping what I just felt was a fluke, or one off.

Like they say, people in hell want ice water, because the pain hit again. The vengeful surge felt like somebody was stabbing me in the pubic area with a sharp fork. I got up from the table, and headed, yet again in the direction of the bathroom.

“I thought you said you were OK?”, Joel said with an irritated frown.

I didn't even take the time to respond. I ran into that bathroom without as much as a look back. I was bitchslapped with another jolt of pain upon entry. If the first two felt like a fork, then that one was a straight up prison shank.

I threw myself into the stall and sat on the toilet, feeling around for the string but there was nothing. I started doing a mental recap, wondering if there might have been something that I did to reposition things.

Hitting that point of “Fuck It”, I went in deeper, hoping to grab the tampon with my fingertips. I could feel the strange texture and clasped onto the edges. As soon as I tried to pull, I was rewarded with another eye watering dose of pain, so powerful that I screamed.

As the echo of my yelp faded, I felt the tampon move.

That ladies and gentleman, brings us to the point of the story where I venture head first into WTF territory.

When I tell you It moved, I mean just that. I felt the little fucker heading further inside of me, without the slightest amount of help doing so. It had moved so far, that I could no longer reach It with my fingers. I screamed again, not out of pain but frustration.

The night was about to get a lot more interesting, but not in the way that I wanted. I left Joel back at the table. No goodbye, no “I’ll call you later”, just the madly frantic sprint that I made to my car.

I drove myself to the emergency room. As I walked past countless others on my way to fill out the information form, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. The majority of those people waiting for help had legitimate problems, And there I was, the girl who lost her tampon up the strawberry river.

“Can I help you?”, the woman behind the window said with the same enthusiasm as a postal worker.

As I tried to form the words to respond, I felt light-headed, followed by a sharp tingle at the base of my skull.

“No thank you, I’m fine.” I said in a voice that was not my own. I mean It was my voice, but It wasn't me talking. Something was speaking through me.

The confused look on the woman behind the window’s face was the last thing I remember before Everything went fifty shades of black.

I woke up on the floor of my apartment three hours later. Somehow, I had driven myself back during the blackout. Whatever was inside me wasn't a tampon. It wasn't even an inanimate object, It was alive.

Something was using my body as an Uber, and It had no plans of paying for the trip.

I spent the better part of an hour pacing a trench into my carpet like the patron saint of crazy bitches. I stopped when I saw the small red tool box sitting on top of the refrigerator.

The tool box was a Christmas gift from my ever so practical father. It was brand new. I had never found a use for anything in It... Until that very moment.

As I opened the box, a pair of blue handled needle nosed pliers sat above all the other tools. It was almost as If the box knew what I needed before I did. But as I reached for the pliers, I could feel the same tingle at the base of my skull that I felt at the hospital.

It was reaching into my head again, preventing me from picking up the tool. Somehow It knew what I was about to do, and was trying to stop me. I struggled, and I struggled to maintain the use of my body. It was no use. I was no longer in control.

And just like that, I lost three weeks of my life. That thing went around living my life like It was me. It hung out with my friends, It had dinner with my family. It had the me routine down. There was nothing that would have given It away. No strange behavior, no personality alterations.

As far as anyone could tell, It was still The Candice that they had come to know and love for years. What they didn't know, was what was going on in my place behind closed doors. It had started building something.

At first I was confused, because It was using my credit card to order random electronic parts off the internet. It wasn't until It had the parts It needed, before It started assembling everything together. The finished product was some kind of weird satellite dish looking thing.

After constructing the object, It started planning out a trip to Arizona using goggle maps. There wouldn't be a road trip though, because the same night, while It was arranging travel plans, the mother of all thunderstorms hit.

I only bring up the storm because there’s this really bad leak in the kitchen. Usually when the ran got bad I’d put a bucket underneath to catch the water. But with me being in a state of mental limbo, there was nothing put down to catch the water. The rain dripped from the ceiling, gathering into a small puddle on the floor.

As body snatched me walked through the kitchen, It slipped in the puddle and fell. My head slammed into the cold tile floor. When I came to, I had the use of my body back.

The impact must have broken the connection. I didn't know If It was a permanent change, or If It would have control again within a few seconds. Fearing an impending countdown, I started to work fast.

First I went in the kitchen drawer and pulled out a bottle of vicodin. I’d like to state for the record that the pills did not belong to me. The bottle belonged to my pill popping friend Harper. She had lost them the last time she was over for our annual Netflix and platonically chill night.

I kept meaning to throw them away, but they just sat in that drawer. It was the first time I found myself thankful for another persons addiction. The next thing on my list was that elusive pair of needle nosed pliers.

After grabbing the tool, I took three of the small pills. Note to reader, If It’s your first time taking a prescription drug with the kind of fuck you up swag that vicodin has, It’s probably not a good Idea to pop them like tic tacs.

When I finally felt the pills kick in, Mucho emphasis on the word “Kick”, I could have been beaten with a bag full of knifes and not felt anything. At least that’s what I thought at the time.

I took off my dress, then my panties, and sat down on the carpet covered floor of my bedroom.

I positioned myself closely to a long standing mirror, getting a birds eye view of my own lady parts. Once I reached the acceptable level of courage, I reached for the pliers, and began to operate.

While the visual play by play was being reflected back at me, I felt the intrusion of the pliers cold steel. It took all I had to keep my hand from shaking. I didn't need a medical degree to know that one sudden jerk, or poke, would open a completely new set of impending medical issues.

I slowly navigated until I struck pay dirt, biting my bottom lip as I carefully tried to grab at the thing. I failed about a dozen times, a number that almost brought me to tears until I felt the pliers as they clamped down on It.

Bracing myself for whatever came next, I started pulling the invader outward. The pain resurfaced. While not as intense as It was before, It was still very noticeable. The tampon from hell was barely moving, so I did the only thing I could do, I pulled harder.

Even with three, habit forming prescription painkillers under my belt, I could tell that my drug induced barrier was about to start cracking. The pain moved from noticeable to excruciating within a very short window. Just as I was about to unclench the pliers, something snapped inside of me.

I suddenly didn't care about anything, including my well being. All I cared about was getting that thing the fuck out of my body. My insides were twisting, but I started to feel movement. I was making progress, and progress was good.

I watched in the mirror, as the blood began to spill out of me like a ruptured dam expanding onto the carpet. I averted my gaze from the crimson fountain to the ceiling. That’s when I was overtaken by the kind of hurt that you can’t find words to describe.

Tears poured down the sides of my cheeks, almost as fast as the blood that had gathered between my legs, just inches from where the violent struggle was taking place. My hand that gripped the pliers was covered in red.

I was no longer crying, I was screaming. The pain gave way to nausea, but I kept going. I knew I was close, so close. I could see the edge of It coming out.

As my eyes adjusted, my blood ran cold. The grey bottom was covered in these barb like growths, that reminded me of the thorns on a rose. What I once thought to be a tampon was no longer straight and rigid. It was loose and flimsily, writhing around like a worm.

It was trying It’s best to maneuver back inside of me. I kept pulling. More became visible. The midsection of the creature seemed to have hundreds of small, white tendrils stretching outward into me. I could see then why the pain had been unbearable.

I started to hear a sound. It took me a few seconds to realize that I wasn't hearing It through my ears. I was hearing the sound in my mind.

What began as a low, screeching quickly evolved into something more understandable.

I didn't have to guess where the voice was coming from. That thing was speaking to me in my own head. It chose to express Itself by saying two words that I’ll never forget.

“Need you”

The pliers grip was slipping from all the blood. As the metal tool hit the floor, the creature tried to pull Itself back in so fast that It was almost a blur. I reached out and caught the bastard with my bare hand, before It was able to disappear. I screamed louder than I've ever screamed before, while pulling It out piece by piece.

The pain subsided as the tendrils made a loud snap. I threw the creature across the room. It landed on the far end of the floor. I watched as the loose tendrils retracted back inside of It.

It’s small body began to expand to the size of a shoe box, eight thin legs sprouted from it’s sides propping It up until It stood at least four feet tall. After looking closer, I could see that the legs were covered in thick hairs.

It then sprouted an orange, fist shaped head covered in what I think were eyes. It’s mouth split open four ways revealing hundreds of overlaid barbs, that weren't made just to bite, they were made to latch on.

Within seconds, It had already cleared a fuck ton of space. I tried to get up and run, but by then, the now, tampon, mutant, devil spider had me pinned. There was nowhere I could go. There was nothing I could do but watch.

It’s mouth opened wider, and as It leaned in closer to my face I could see something beyond the hooks It had for teeth, there was something else. A pulsating movement. Before I had the chance to play Sherlock Holmes and the monster from hell, the mystery came shooting out

The solid mass that was heading in my direction unraveled into hundreds of white tendrils that covered my face, spreading everywhere, Trying to forcefully get back inside me however they could. This included My eyes and ears. I held my lips together tightly, to prevent the white strings from entering my mouth.

Sensing the lack of entry, the slithering masses entered my nose pushing further, and further, until I could feel the intrusion aggressively make It’s way to the back of my throat.

My vision blurred as the tendrils traveled deeper into the corners of my eyes I could see the bloody pliers within reaching distance. Everything faded into a milky white. I stretched my arm out in the direction that was still etched in memory.

It took three blind tries before I felt the, metal in my grip. Without any hesitation, I brought the tool down like the thunder of God, and that’s saying a lot, because after seeing something as fucked up as that, I now question the existence of a higher power.

The Pliers made contact with their target. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that the high pitched screeches that followed, were the sounds of pain.

I felt all the tendrils retracting. My vision returned soon after. The creatures legs stepped over me towards the center of the room, A bright green dripped from the hole In what I guess was It’s neck, onto the carpet where the liquid bubbled corrosively.

The stab wound started to bubble as well, only the result wasn't acidic like the puddle of melted carpet below It. Like a candy coated middle finger the wound sealed right before my eyes.

“Why won’t you fucking die?” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

It said nothing, unless you’d count charging at me with It’s mouth wide open a response.

A few short, seconds into the creatures demonic sprint, all eight legs bent downwards before It launched Itself into the air, and I peed on myself a little bit.

Everything started moving in slow motion. To this day, I can’t tell you If It was the drugs that were still in my system, or If It was because I thought I was about to die, either way It was trippy.

During this time, I both noticed and found It very Ironic, that the mouth of this killing machine looked more like a Vagina, that a lot of Vaginas I’d seen.

Time sped back up, and I felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through my body as I planted a single kick in It’s midsection, redirecting the screeching nightmare into my bookshelf across the room.

Taking advantage of the few, precious moments that elapsed while my guest readjusted Itself, I darted out the room faster than I’ve ever done anything in my life.

As soon as the door slammed shut. I could hear It banging from the other side. Delirious, bloody, and half naked I stumbled to my neighbors house before the lack of blood caught up with me, and I Passed out.

I woke up in the hospital. As you can imagine, there were questions, as to why I was bleeding internally from my hot pocket. They deserved the truth, so I told them what really happened. How I was a raging nymphomaniac who ordered a defective glass dildo from china. After that, nobody asked me anymore questions.

While I was on the mend, I caught myself flipping through what the hospital was passing for cable. For some stupid reason, the TV in my room was stuck on mute, and the closed caption had tourette's. Frustrated at the lack of variety and sound, I left It on the local news.

Some woman had committed suicide by throwing herself off the side of an overpass. Her body hit a moving car, that then hit another car and, well, you get the picture. I tried to put together what I could from the captions that were readable, and what kept popping up on screen.

As tragic as the death toll was, It wasn't until they flashed the woman’s picture on the screen that my stomach twisted into a knot.

It was Horror Movie Helen. I couldn't tell If they released her name, I mean her real name, because the captions had finally deteriorated into total gibberish.

I wondered If she had one of those things in her too, I wondered why she gave It to me that night in the bathroom. Were there more of those things out there, and if there were, where did they come from. What was that thing It was building, and what the hell was in Arizona?

A cold chill worked It’s way down my spine, as a sudden epiphany reared It’s ugly head. The scariest thing wasn't what I had just been through. No, the scariest thing was having no idea about what was really going on, and that scared the living shit out of me.

It’s mid afternoon now. The hospital discharged me a few days ago. I’m staying at Harper’s place. I’m glad she hasn't asked why I didn't want to go straight home from the hospital. Because explaining to your friend that there's currently a tampon insect monster locked in your bedroom can make things a bit weird.

I’ve been sitting outside of home depot, typing away on Harper’s macbook. Why Home depot? I saw a sales ad in the paper for gasoline canisters, buy one get one free. Weird right? What a random Item to out on sale.

Look, I know what’s going through your mind. I know that there are people out there who are more capable to handle a problem like the one that’s staying at my place rent free. The cops, an Exterminator/contract killer, Tommy Lee and Will Smith. Oh, I’m sure there are people out there more qualified to attend to such a specialized task. I’ll never let them though. Nobody is going to take this from me.

You think being raped is horrible? Try having your body snatched by the Lance Armstrong of parasites, and call me in the morning. No, I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything. That’s why when I get done writing this, I’m going to walk my ass into Home depot and get my buy one get one free gas canisters. I’m going to fill them with gas and douse every inch of my apartment.

Once I’m sure the place is saturated, I’m going to take out the lucky charm zippo that I bought for just this occasion, and light that shit up like a Christmas tree. I wonder what will be going through It’s head as the flames consume everything around It.

It’s smart enough to talk, but Is It smart enough to contemplate what It’s like being someone else bitch?

Submitted January 20, 2017 at 03:10AM by nostromogold http://ift.tt/2jRkcDd nosleep