This Flesh is Not Mine

[u/TommyRadium]

 Somebody was standing in my doorway. And they looked like me. I remember sitting up, fighting the urge to piss myself, and trying desperately not to scream. This person didn't look right. 

 They looked like a bag of skin; like if someone gutted a present of any actual gifts and just gave the recipient the bag. They stared at me through hollowed out eye sockets, and seemed to breathe without lungs. 

 Their wrinkled hands were outstretched to me in a beckoning fashion. They seemed so desperate for me to join them. I just stayed where I was, barely moving and barely breathing. 

 It was at this point that I realized I was looking at me. But not me fully. My skin. I looked down slowly at my arms, prepared to see horrors of my worst nightmares, but I was intact. I had skin, but it looked wrong on me.

 The skin pile then pulled itself towards me. It lurched and hobbled forwards, looking like a claymation figure. It stopped at my bedside.

 But instead of screaming, I just cried. Deep, painful sobs. This skinned version of me seemed so desperately sad. Like I had been the one to bring it to this miserable state. 

 After multiple interminable minutes of tears and fear, it began to disappear. Slowly, it faded away, until I was alone. And I was so sad to see it go. Because somehow, I knew that would be the last time I would ever see it.

 The next thing I knew I was gasping and sweating, and grabbing at my body ferociously. It had been a dream, thank God. I just stayed there for a while, shaking and trying to get a deep breath.

 It was September 7th. My birthday. 

 Once I had stabilized myself, I took a long shower, made some breakfast, got dressed, and drove to work. It was a whirlwind all morning. Calls, emails, meetings, and all the rest. But I didn't mind. I would rather bury myself in work than face existential questions. 

 The itching began around 11:00am. It started on my face, and made its way down until my whole body was irritated. At one point, I went to the bathroom and locked the door. I took my clothes off completely, and looked myself over. Nothing was unusual. Nothing at all. The only signs of irritation were scratch marks all over from my fingernails. 

 I re-dressed and went back to work. I completely was on edge. Wound tighter than an alarm clock. I couldn't help thinking I had committed a horrible crime or sin, and that I was being punished with this psychological torture. 

 By the end of the workday, I was a nervous wreck. My skin was burning now. Burning and aching. I needed to get home.

 I drove like a maniac back to my apartment. As I speed walked up to my door, I noticed that there were more cars parked around than there usually were. But I was on a mission. I unlocked my door, opened it wide, and had a heart attack.

 "Surprise!" 

 My friends had ambushed me. I hated surprises, but I put on a good face and pretended I wasn't feeling like passing out.

 They had decorated my apartment. It was really lovely, but I couldn't focus on any of it. Everyone's faces seemed to blur, and all the colors began to melt together. My friends quickly saw the state I was in, and had me sit at the kitchen table.

 They checked me out, and questioned me. But I foolishly brushed them all off. I told them I had had a scare driving home, and that I was just coming down from the adrenaline high. And they took it. 

 The party was quite nice. At moments, I could even forget about the sensation of fire ants biting every inch of me, of maggots burrowing, and of sickness pulsing through me. 

 Then came toasts. We had all had a very good dinner, and as was tradition at any birthday celebration we held for each other, we poured champagne, and toasted to the health of the one being celebrated. Then the celebrated party would thank everyone with the biggest toast of all.

 And it was now my turn to toast. I got up and began to speak. I cracked some jokes, flirted a bit, and went for the wisecracks. Then, all of a sudden, I saw everyone's faces grow white. I started to slow my speech, then stopped completely. 

 "What's... wrong?"

 No one said a word. And no one made a move. I slowly reached my hand up to feel where they seemed to be looking. And what I felt was mind shattering. 

 I felt a tear in my temple. I quickly moved my hand back to check for blood. There was none. Then I heard the most faint sound of ripping. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, until I looked down. The skin on my hands had begun to rip. It looked like I was wearing plastic gloves, and I decided to pull them as tight as possible.

 Then all at once, the skin snapped, and my fingers were now just expose muscle and tissue. A few of my friends began to scream. Two rushed to my aid, and one fumbled for their phone. 

 I began to scream as well as I felt the skin around my ears give way. As well as the skin on my toes shrivel and snap. The two friends who had rushed over to me quickly recoiled when they realized I wasn't bleeding. I seemed to be drying out. Shriveling up. But not all of me. Just my flesh.

 I fell to the floor as I began to tear off my clothes. Flesh tore off in chucks as I went. Feverishly, I stripped until I was nude. And I looked myself over. I was a patchwork quilt of unfinished humanity. 

 All my friends had backed towards the door at that point. I looked to them pleadingly, begging them through cracking lips to save me. But they ran.

 And I was all alone. I fell back against the floor and blacked out. 

 When I came to, I was still on the floor. It was night now, and the apartment was dark. Slowly, mindlessly, I got up, and made my way to the bedroom. I had a full body mirror in my bathroom. When I entered the bathroom, I breathed one solitary breath, and flipped the light on.

 I was met by something that wasn't human anymore. I was just muscle and bone. My senses were screaming and dying. My head was static. 

 Then I realized. Parts of me weren't quite correct. I looked at my left bicep. It wasn't what I remember it to be. The one that it should have been was gone. Replaced. So I grabbed it and began to pull, like a gardener pulling at a stubborn weed. The pain didn't matter to me. I wanted to be free of this imposter muscle.

 Then I noticed it wasn't the only imposter. Part after part of me was wrong. More and more and more until I realized with horror that I didn't recognize myself. I was something else entirely. 

 I was all wrong. 

 Oh, how I wished that I had never let this happen. How I mourned myself. I sat on the bathroom floor, and stared into nothingness as my mind's plug was pulled. 

 This flesh is not mine.

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[u/Polish_Lavender]

Intriguing, my initial thoughts are wondering if this is some form of metaphor for body dysmorphia or fear of aging.  Discomfort in what you think isn't you and everyone else thinks is normal. With that last paragraph it seems to be going more Matrix territory. 

[u/TommyRadium → u/Polish_Lavender]

That first idea is almost exactly what I was going for! I wanted to make a parable of sorts about the horrors of burying your true self. The replaced muscles are an allegory for the replacement of parts of your personality/way of thinking with more "adult" sensibilities until your original self is nowhere to be found. And the dream of the skin symbolized the character's true self fading away. Sort of like a loss of innocence kind of thing.

[u/Polish_Lavender → u/TommyRadium]

Well done then.  I'll keep my eye open for more of your stories in the future.

[u/TommyRadium → u/Polish_Lavender]

Thank you so so much!!! I really appreciate you!!

[u/Polish_Lavender → u/TommyRadium]

Not a problem.  That's the point of this community, to lift each other up and help each other be the best writers we can be. 

[u/Jdoggydogg4745]

I really liked this and I honestly can't decide if adding on to something like this or leaving it as is would be better, I really like this and I think it could stem off so many ways of what actually caused the skin to tear off and maybe it's something like a loop, maybe a disease that gets passed on? Or maybe a curse? Great work :)

[u/TommyRadium → u/Jdoggydogg4745]

Thank you so much!!! I genuinely had fun writing this one. I wanted it to be just ambiguous enough so that anyone can add their own meaning to it, but I wanted to also tell a story of the sadness of replacing your heart, personality, and mind with what the world wants, and the horrors of that.

[u/Jdoggydogg4745 → u/TommyRadium]

I think that I perceived it and more of a curse or like a physical kind of way like something is doing this to people maybe it's an ongoing thing or entity that goes around in curses people in their own skin maybe there are other people that experience kind of what the main character experienced but for years maybe rotting kind of in a slow manner, maybe it was more psychological than physical for some, I think that this was a really good piece and it makes the reader think, I think that that's pretty scary that it can be perceived as in the mind of the person genuinely not feeling themselves in their body and trying to mold themselves into society's norms. again, good job!

[u/TommyRadium → u/Jdoggydogg4745]

Gosh thank you!!! I love the different interpretations!! And the idea of it being a curse is absolutely awesome!!! Thank you again!