Week 2 – Sunday

Each passing day, the wedding I so humbly await grows closer. At the same time, with each passing day, they burrow deeper and deeper. Each passing day, they nibble and bite and chew my skin, my muscle, my sinew, the very fiber of my being. I’m sure she sees them, the evidence of each small creature’s feast. She says nothing about them, though. Perhaps she knows something I dont.

Week 3 – Friday

The doctors I’ve gone to say it is nothing to worry about, they pretend that these parasites invading my body are no big deal. I know better. I know these insects will soon reach my vital organs, and I will be no more. Its only a matter of time.

Week 4 – Tuesday

I can’t sleep at night. The itching and the biting is torturous. When I think I can’t take anymore, they stop. When I am on the verge of sleep, they begin to feed again. They are toying with me, I know it. I’m almost jealous of my bride to be, sleeping by my side so peacefully and elegantly. It pains me to think that these insects might migrate to her body and torture her as well. I can’t let that happen, I just can’t.

Week 6 – Saturday

It’s the day before the wedding. Everything is set up just as we so delicately planned it. I only wish I could enjoy the sight. The white seats creating a pathway which both of us will walk to elope, the streamers wrapped so elegantly around the tables and seats, creating a vision of perfection that seemingly could only exist in Heaven. As of late, the insects have been feasting more often and for longer periods of time. Its almost unbearable. It seems I can only relax when I am near the fireplace in our home. The popping and cracking of the wood seems to calm the insects down and put them into a heat-induced stupor, at least until I walk away.

Week 7 – Sunday

Wedding day is here. The guests have arrived and are waiting for my bride and I to come and make their night one to remember. I can’t go outside, not looking like this. The insects seem to be feasting nonstop on my flesh. Red bumps and boils that were unsightly have now grown large and painful. The itching is so terrible. It feels as if every pore on my body is being repeatedly stuck and poked at random with red hot needles. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been resting a fork in the blazing heat of the fireplace for an hour, just for this moment. I take the fork and as it burns red-hot in my hand, I plunge it into my skin.

I scream and yell in pain, but the itching is coming to an end. With each boil and bump I stab with the red hot utensil, each little volcano of torturous itching is no more. I can almost hear the screaming and dying of each insect I destroy. Almost done, I reach the boils on my most sensitive parts. The pain is nearly unbearable and the sizzling and smell of my flesh is sickening, but I go on, knowing that the insects will never bother me again.

Out of nowhere, in bursts several party guests, and worse, my bride to be. They only stare and scream at my horrendous figure, my body covered in blood, pus, and red boils I’ve yet to destroy.

Date Unknown

Here I am, locked in a room padded with pillows, all white, for my own “safety”. On my skin is the evidence of my deed; scars and burn marks almost all over my body. Almost.

They didnt let me finish the job. Why didnt they let me finish? The red bumps are gone but it will never end.

They still bite.

They still feed.

It still itches.