The Growth

Happy Halloween!

By 9am, Leland Carter had burnt the bread on his sandwich and spilled a can of Coke on his only clean pair of pants. Additional bills accumulated under the mail slot. He put on yesterday’s pants, picked up a folder containing resumes, and left.

The rainstorm seemed powerful enough to knock over buildings like dominos, although only trash cans and Halloween decorations fell victim to the viscous winds.

Three places had stopped hiring, and at the fourth, he saw the manager toss his application in the trash after returning to use the restroom.

He hung his head as he hopped on the Q99 bus and sat down on a bacteria ridden, plastic blue seat. On his left leg, from the knee down, his light grey pants had been turned dark charcoal from the puddle he failed to step over.

At the next stop a new set of passengers boarded. Among them, was a disheveled man with matted black hair. He sat down next to Lelland. His stench was indescribable. All Lelland could think of was sea moss submerged in mayonnaise, left out to rot in the hot sun.

The man grunted and fell asleep. Moving as close as he could to the window, Leland looked over and noticed a cluster of growths on the man’s neck. It resembled a blossoming mushroom field covered in chewed bubblegum. Hypnotized by it, Leland felt the tuna melt he had for breakfast make its way back up and rest in his throat.

The man let out a violent sneeze. Leland felt moisture blanket his face as if he were a dog, being punished with a spray bottle for defecating in the house.

Leland stood up, “what the hell is wrong with you? Cover your mouth!” The man laughed wildly as Leland got to his feet.

Leland stepped off the bus into pouring rain, having left four stops early, unsettled by the sneeze from the disheveled passenger with a pimpled neck.

Leland felt a blanket of heat wrap around his body like a sunburn. His wet clothes hit the floor of his apartment like a pile of bricks.

He lay in bed, holding his pillow. His chest felt heavy, as an irregular pulse throbbed in his temples.

His body became glistened in sweat, like a Christmas ham, roasting in the oven. His blood felt sour. Every pump of his heart sent acidic crimson through his veins like a thick needles packed inside plastic straws.

As the sun set, Leland’s body changed under the faint moonlight. He shook in bed, making the headboard rhythmically tap against the wall.

Blood gathered in his eyes as hot saliva ran down his chin. Pins and needles danced in his neck, causing his skin to itch wildly.

The room spun as he staggered to the bathroom. Gripping the sink he looked into mirror. His neck was dotted with the same festering pimples as the man from the bus.

He fell backwards cracking his head on the toilet as he rested in a pool of his own blood. Staring at the ceiling he felt his eye lids shut as he took his last breath.