Flesh Moss

Flesh Moss Header

Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.

I’m typing this in a cabin in Cook County, Northern Minnesota. It’s forty miles of wilderness to the nearest town and at least ten miles to the nearest other cabin. You’ll hear all about the place soon on the news. Or maybe not. I don’t mind much either way anymore. It’s more likely you’ll hear some version of what happened to me, eventually. There’s a reason I had to go to a place like this to hide my face while I waited to disappear. They’ll want there to be some version of what happened to me to tell the public.

This started three days ago. The fridge started making some grinding noise that made me get the manual out. There was no phone to call a repairman for it. Apparently it was a problem with the vents in the back getting clogged. I pulled the fridge from the wall, removed the vent cover, and saw that the fan was surrounded with dust and hair. I cleaned it out. I might not have noticed the moss, but I was so bored at the time that I decided to clean it much more thoroughly than necessary. I felt along the bottom of the metal frame housing the fan and then recoiled. I thought I’d electrocuted myself for a second, but I knew that what I’d felt was not electricity from past experience with hotwiring.

I felt it again. I felt something smooth, warm, and soft. It was quite similar to human flesh. And there was something else about the thing I felt down there that differentiated it from any known mold.

There was a pulse like you can feel at someone’s neck or wrist. I’d felt pulses enough back in the day that it was the first place my mind went when I felt that sensation. And along with it, I felt a very light spray, like if you squirted cologne on yourself from way too far away.

I tried to tear it out and get a look at it, but it was too firmly attached. Frustrated, I went and got some drain cleaner which dissolved the patch quickly. When I cleaned out the remnants it was a red sludge. It was just like the leftovers from when I and my associates used lye on a body.

Like many things in my life I was able to rationalize that pretty easily. There were probably plenty of molds I wouldn’t recognize. I knew I had seen red funguses somewhere on television or something. The pulse could have been my own. If you use your thumb when taking someone’s pulse, you’ll end up feeling your own. I convinced myself I’d something similar to that.

Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.

Taking off the gloves after the last of the sludge went down the sink, I realized I hadn’t washed my hand before putting on the glove after I felt that faint spray. I sniffed it weakly. It smelled surprisingly good. Like chocolate and flowers. Of course I washed it off, but I was surprised at the time it smelled so nice. In fact, I felt a little happier than I would have expected after washing it off.

Early the next morning, when there was just enough light to make the inside of my cabin a dark blue, I heard the fan for the fridge make a horrible grinding noise. I stumbled out of bed, plugged the fridge away from the wall again, unplugged it, and then I froze. I could smell chocolate and flowers.

I thought I might have been smelling things and I could still barely see through bleary eyes. A glass of water sounded like what I needed to clear my head. I drank half a glass then poured the rest out. Although I couldn’t see into the sink properly in the weak light, I realized there was no gurgle of the water draining.

I turned on the lamp near the sink, and saw it.

There was a mass that had grown out of the drain. It was slowly, rhythmically expanding and contracting slightly like it was breathing. A blue vein was visible, straining against the skin like they do on a fit man’s arm.

I bent down to get the drain cleaner. My hands were trembling as I tried to unscrew the lid. It was useless. What I had done yesterday had merely left this thing to regrow in the u-pipe or somewhere. Surely pouring more onto a greater mass would hardly stop the growth. But it was all I could think to do at the moment.

As I poured a bit of drain cleaner onto the mass, its surface spasmed. It released a powerful spray of whatever that scent was. I couldn’t force myself to keep pouring it. I was became fully relaxed even as I stood there trying to kill some mass of skin. The moss gradually stopped spasming even as the drain cleaner slowly stopped eating through it. It seemed, at least to me, like it relaxing too. It released more of that wonderful scent.

Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.

It’s okay. I understand. I’m not mad at you. That’s what it felt like it was trying to communicate to me. Even then I knew I should have tried to tear out the plumbing or leave the cabin for somewhere else on foot, but I wanted more of that scent. I felt the best I had since I’d started hiding up here.

I stood over the sink for a while, just breathing in that odor. I could no longer care what was really in that scent it was spraying that calmed me so. I looked over at the fridge vent absentmindedly. I could see little bits of the flesh moss growing out through the vents.

Since then, the moss grew and grew faster as it went. It now coats the inside of the cabin like soundproofing. For how loud it is, the sound of the moss’s pulse is very relaxing, like when people play nature sounds to help them sleep. It’s the “badum” sound I’ve found myself typing a few times as I write this. I imitate the sound with my mouth as I do.

Acid is beginning to leak from large pores on this flesh moss. It’s not strong enough to eat through metal but anything organic that it touches is being eaten away. The soles of my boots are being dissolved. I can feel the skin on the bottom of my feet being eaten away as well. What matters mist is that the moss has continued to spray that wonderful scent even as it releases acid. I’m in pain, but I don’t mind.

The pulse is speeding up. I think it wants to digest me faster. I am considering lying down in the acid to help speed it along. It’s the least I could do for it.

Badum, badum badum badum badum badum badumbadumbadumbadumbadumba



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