The Case of The Buggles
He wasn't sleeping.
He couldn't sleep! He had thought for the first night, it was because Duke died, but as it passed on many more nights, he felt like something was happening. Every time he drifted off, he would wake up choking on a dry cough that felt like it scraped his throat on the way out, like he had inhailed a handful of ash.
He felt like his skin was way too hot and way too cold to be in simultaneously. He would feel his forehead every so often when his vision started to blur along the edges of his sight, and he had a simmering fever.
He chose to ignore it for days. For several weeks. But by the third week of this, after trying to put on his shorts, which he could normally wear without belts or anything, obviously, they slipped down with ease, and he looked in the mirror to only notice that he lost weight. He felt like his limbs were filled with wet sand and his breath, while pungent, rattled as if he had something clinging to the inside of his lungs.
And Vlad was so sure that while this felt miserable, it had to have been stress or grief or a lack of sleep. He still had to go have the nurse check it out, see if it was anything serious.
And he raised his hand and pressed it against hsi neck. There was a bump. At first, to him, he thought it felt like a pimple, but when he pressed his fingers against it, as if to pinch it into popping, it felt as if something shifted under the skin.
His stomach dropped and he looked at whatever reflective surfaces he could walk by in the halls to the Hospital Wing, and he looked worse for wear. He was pale and fever flushed, but hollow eyed and beneath his jawline was a bump that pushed outward again, making it seem like it was starting to form a thin and ropelike ridge under his skin.
He walked into the hospital wing, calling out for help and while calling for help, another ridge formed lower on his neck but curling in the opposite direction and another appeared beneath his ears.
He didn't know what this was. He was going to die.
He was so going to die and he was so screwed.
A kid flashed through his mind, and his hands shot to his chest as if he were covering his heart due to a heart attack or something. He felt his knees begin to buckle like jello was controlling his joints and muscles and he collapsed to the ground. He felt a painful bump grow beneath the skin of his neck again, pushing outward, slowly and painfully. He winced and his jaw clenched. Another image of the kid appeared again.
"Duke.." he whispered softly. "I'll see you again in a few, I love you, hold the gates open for me." He called out with a soft, whispered grunt of jagged pain as more and more bumps grew and protruded, making him feel like he was becoming an alien or a specimen that was far too hideous to be gazed upon.
He sweated profusely, his skin turned redder than the paint on a firetruck.
His vision blurred quickly, no longer the edges of his sight, but his whole vision as it quickly turned black and he remained lying on the ground, limp, unable to see anything.
@Nancy McLoughlin
He couldn't sleep! He had thought for the first night, it was because Duke died, but as it passed on many more nights, he felt like something was happening. Every time he drifted off, he would wake up choking on a dry cough that felt like it scraped his throat on the way out, like he had inhailed a handful of ash.
He felt like his skin was way too hot and way too cold to be in simultaneously. He would feel his forehead every so often when his vision started to blur along the edges of his sight, and he had a simmering fever.
He chose to ignore it for days. For several weeks. But by the third week of this, after trying to put on his shorts, which he could normally wear without belts or anything, obviously, they slipped down with ease, and he looked in the mirror to only notice that he lost weight. He felt like his limbs were filled with wet sand and his breath, while pungent, rattled as if he had something clinging to the inside of his lungs.
And Vlad was so sure that while this felt miserable, it had to have been stress or grief or a lack of sleep. He still had to go have the nurse check it out, see if it was anything serious.
And he raised his hand and pressed it against hsi neck. There was a bump. At first, to him, he thought it felt like a pimple, but when he pressed his fingers against it, as if to pinch it into popping, it felt as if something shifted under the skin.
His stomach dropped and he looked at whatever reflective surfaces he could walk by in the halls to the Hospital Wing, and he looked worse for wear. He was pale and fever flushed, but hollow eyed and beneath his jawline was a bump that pushed outward again, making it seem like it was starting to form a thin and ropelike ridge under his skin.
He walked into the hospital wing, calling out for help and while calling for help, another ridge formed lower on his neck but curling in the opposite direction and another appeared beneath his ears.
He didn't know what this was. He was going to die.
He was so going to die and he was so screwed.
A kid flashed through his mind, and his hands shot to his chest as if he were covering his heart due to a heart attack or something. He felt his knees begin to buckle like jello was controlling his joints and muscles and he collapsed to the ground. He felt a painful bump grow beneath the skin of his neck again, pushing outward, slowly and painfully. He winced and his jaw clenched. Another image of the kid appeared again.
"Duke.." he whispered softly. "I'll see you again in a few, I love you, hold the gates open for me." He called out with a soft, whispered grunt of jagged pain as more and more bumps grew and protruded, making him feel like he was becoming an alien or a specimen that was far too hideous to be gazed upon.
He sweated profusely, his skin turned redder than the paint on a firetruck.
His vision blurred quickly, no longer the edges of his sight, but his whole vision as it quickly turned black and he remained lying on the ground, limp, unable to see anything.
@Nancy McLoughlin
In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind, we've gone too far. (Video Killed The Radio Star - The Buggles)
Clark