Image by https://megapixel.click — betexion — photos for free from Pixabay
You don’t always foresee the changes life will put you through.
Fell asleep on the hot sand under the hot sun on the beach. Stupid. My fair skin has blistered with less exposure.
This time, though, I didn’t even redden. If anything, my skin is paler. No fever, no nausea, no sunburn pain. Itches like hell, though. From head to balls to soles of feet. Soaked in an oatmeal bath to no avail. Calamine lotion useless. Lidocaine spray no help at all. I try not to scratch but finally give in.
I start with my left forearm. Gentle scratching only makes it worse. Overdue for a nail clipping, I scratch deep. No pain! No blood! Itching gets worse. So dig deeper.
I’m leaving gouges. Sara will be furious! She’ll be yelling at me all the way to the ER! Maybe I can wear a long sleeve shirt until it heals.
Where does she get off anyway? Thinks I don’t know about the others. Feels entitled to lecture me about self care. I don’t know why I put up with it.
I feel and hear something rip. A tear in my skin has opened up. No pain, no blood. I pull at the edge of the tear. The itching eases. Pull some more. The bigger the rip, the better I feel.
Something glitters beneath the ripping skin. Emerald green. Long sleeves won’t cover this up. As my skin rips and peels, I start not to care, as though I am shedding more than skin.
Whole arm is bare now. On the dorsal side, beautiful glimmering scales shaped like birch leaves. On the inner side, deep green pebbled skin. The hand is revealed. No veins show beneath the green, no pain felt. Fingertips have deep ridges, much deeper than fingerprints.
What the hell. I go to the full length mirror, start on my head. Scalp comes off easily. On my forehead, shallow depressions, above my glittering black eyes. The nose peels off completely, to show two deep vertical slits.
I glance out the window into the dark. I double take, look longer. It is not dark! The glowing shape of a cat prowls across the street. A block away, the shining image of a jogger. In the house across the street, beautiful nude Renee walks slowly past the window. Lights are off; she thinks herself unseen.
Once that vision would have sent blood rushing to my loins. Now, I don’t even know what is down there anymore. I will find out, but first, finish the face. A new mouth is revealed, lipless, very wide. When I open it, it is impossibly cavernous, rimmed with my new teeth. I’d smile if I could, but this mouth does not allow that. Undoubtedly, it can do other things.
Every inch of green revealed is vibrant with strength. I continue ripping off the weak pale skin.
Sara ceases to matter.
~ Wry Welwood
22nd of January 2022
Previously published in response to Scrittura prompt on Medium: “what would you do in moving threads?”. Thanks to JD Harms.
Happy Halloween!