Blossomdella

I know the human body is capable of more than what we give it credit for, and anybody who watches enough show's like "Ripley's Believe it or Not", or spends enough time on the internet can attest to that. And if you want a really good scare, then there are no shortage of those untold E.R. stories on the reality channels as well.

But as shocking, or mystifying as some stories may be, the one thing most of them have in common is that they are easily believable, given that the proof is right there in front of the camera, staring at you as you sit on your couch, captivated by the spectacle taking place before you. I say all of this because I know the story I'm about to tell may not be believable to the rational minded, but please have an open mind and accept reality does has it's own twists to it.

My night started bad and ended worse. I was at work and I unfortunately got a double shift, which meant not only did I have to work evening on a Friday, no less, but graveyard as well, thanks to the pill-popping teenaged brat that called in "sick", and I was forced to fill in his place. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I have that bad of a job, and the extra money I was getting is good too, but it's just the fact that I had to take the subway home after midnight.

Thankfully, my cousin, who helped get my job, was supervising that night and let me go home early, instead of staying around to clean up the work space after my second shift. With out hesitation, I gave him brief hug, bee-lined for the locker room, gathered my things, and got the hell out of there.

As I saw the entrance to the metro in sight, I remember clenching my fists, and feeling the vibration of my teeth grinding, all the way down the steps to the underground tunnel to catch my train, furious that this was happening to me. I do have a bit of social anxiety; not enough that I can't function (I do have a job), but I tend to freak out when I'm stuck in a crowd of what I deem "Nightcrawlers". I think you know what I mean: the kind of "interesting" people that come out only at night and make you feel like you got sucked into a bad 80's horror movie.

Sometimes I don't know what's worse: the terror that surrounds you while you wait for your train, or the ride itself. But considering that I saw a homeless man passed out on a nearby bench with his cock hanging out of his zipper and a tendrile of drool dangling off of his beared face, I was safe in assuming I've seen the best the night had to offer.

I tried to shake this image out of my head like an Etch A Sketch and got my card off of the dagger-eyed bitch in the booth. After a few long minutes of waiting, my train finally arrived. As soon as the doors started opening, I leaped inside like a ninja and quickly planted my ass on the seat nearest to the door.

Thankfully, there was almost no one on the train, save for me, a small group of hood rats, and tired-looking elderly man who was slumped in his seat. Ignoring everyone's presence, I bow my head and convince my mind that my tattered shoes are the most amazing thing I've ever seen.

I was finally beginning to zone out until I heard a cough from my left. I look up and it's the old man, wheezing like he's in a battle with his last breath. After he's done coughing, he breaths heavy and his chest rattles as if his lungs are filled with marbles. Then he looks at me.

"Got any water, young man?", he asks.

Since he was being generous about it, I felt bad for having to tell him "no", but before the word even escaped my lips, he coughs again. After collecting himself, I wait for him to ask again, but when it becomes obvious he's not going to, I turn my attention back on my shoes (or anything on the floor in general).

Either about five minutes, or an eternity goes by (not sure which), of very welcomed silence. The old man already forgotten, I begin to nod off a little bit until I hear giggling. I look to my left, and it's the old man again. He's sitting in his seat laughing like a school-girl, hugging his chest.

"Oh my god, that tickles!", he mumbles to himself.

As soon as we make eye contact, he immediately shuts up and plays it cool, averting his eyes like a young boy who's crush caught him undressing her with his eyes. I continue to look at the old man and when he realizes I'm still looking, he just gives a smile and a nod, and I return the favor with a cool two-fingered salute on my forehead.

The guy honestly didn't seem that bad. He just came off as a harmless old man, and I can appreciate that. I go back to my business of trying to stay awake for fear of missing my stop, but a moment later the old man begins giggling again, and then erupts into a full-on cackle.

"What is wrong with this guy?", I thought to myself. The best conclusion I could draw is that maybe he has dementia. Then he looks at me again.

"Got any water?"

Believe me, I honestly was starting to feel bad for the guy at this point, but again, I had to tell him "no". He resigns with a mournful nod and crosses his harms. When things seem all well the old man goes into another coughing fit, the worst one yet. On the other end of the car, I vaguely hear some street trash tell him to "Shut the fuck up", but I brush this off, considering this elderly passenger may need my assistance (who the hell else would bother helping a guy like him?).

The old man hunches over, coughing violently into his fist, thin liquid beginning to leak out of his nostrils. After his fit is over, the old man lifts his head up and looks at me. This is when I went from concerned to genuinely freaked out. As the man looked at me, I saw some slick black object, possibly a tail, sticking out of his mouth. Before I can express my concern the old man absently slurps the object back into his mouth as if he were eating spaghetti. To this day, something tells me he probably didn't even notice.

"Everything all right?", he asks me. I nod my head, unable to talk. I try to say "fine", but all that comes out as a mild whimper. The old man nods his head. "That's good. Say..." He rubs a bony hand on the front top of his forehead, bringing down finger-fulls of his own hair which slid off of his scalp as easy as cooked turkey skin. "Do you have happen to have any water?"

I couldn't answer. I was so transfixed on what I was seeing it made it nearly impossible for me to talk. The bald spot where is hair was shone brightly under the fluorescent lights. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that not only was there hair missing, but part of the scalp as well.

This caught my attention when I saw blood trickle down the old man's forehead, making one stream to then forking over the bridge of his nose. I try to respond, but all I could do was stutter. As I tried to work my tongue out of its knot, the old man once again goes into a coughing fit, wheezing like a bottle rocket, and falling on his hands and knees.

As the coughing continues, something that I thought was bile spews out of the man's mouth. But this wasn't bile, vomit, for anything that has any business in a human body, or any living creature for that matter. I can't explain exactly what I saw, but the best description I can give is that they looked like slugs with black backs, neon-red bellies, and flower-shaped heads. As soon as they hit the floor, they shrivel for a couple seconds, then become still as if they died after their exposure outside of the old man's body.

The old man continues to cough, and more of these alien things projectile out of his mouth like a an upside-down Old Faithful. Needless to say, once this caught the attention of the other passengers, everyone begins panicking. But somehow I managed to stay frozen in my seat.

The more the man coughed, the more of these things escaped from his body. Then all of a sudden the old man became quiet, but remained in his position on the floor. When my delirium finally broke, I stood up to help the man to his feet, but then the most bizarre thing yet happened. The old man's body became stiff and, grunting, his eyes popped out of their sockets, making him look like a Loony Tune from Hell.

A dark crimson fluid shot out from his tear ducts, making his skull look like a weak garden sprinkler. Then the back of his pants began rapidly expanding, becoming increasingly damp, and more of that same liquid came spewing out from his pant legs. I slowly backed away, no longer taking a chance, and stood by the door.

Just when I was thinking how this could get anymore out of the ordinary, the front of the old man's skull splits open down the middle, his eyes flying out of skull and smacking into the back of the seat in front of him, one land on the seat and the other ricocheting and landing on the floor. What followed was a flood of those creatures pouring out of every opening of the old man's body, forming a pool around him as he collapsed spread-eagled on the floor.

The people behind me scream like as if it was going out of style and I still stand there dumbfounded and speechless. Most of the monstrosities appeared to die seconds after they hid the ground, but the last one I saw clinging for dear life tilted its flowered head towards me and spit out a yellow/green muck in my direction, then limply drops dead with its fallen comrades. Thankfully the vile fluid landed just two feet it in front of me, but that was still too close for comfort.

Before I can think of what to do next, the train stops and seconds later, the doors fly open. I'm not sure who these people were, but the closest I could compare them to is some kind of swat team wearing hazmat suits. I quickly get away from the door, retaking my seat, and just watching the madness unfold. One of the suited figures gets out his radio.

"There are 4 passengers! We need EMT on board, pronto!"

More suited people come one the train, the medical team, I assume. One of them grabs me by the arm and pulls me off of the train like a rag doll, then gets in my face.

"Did the old man make contact with you?" Finally motivated enough to talk, I reply "No".

"We'll see", said the EMT. He guides me away from the train and has me sit on a large box of medical supplies. From a medkit, the EMT retrieves a cotton swab and some kind of clear fluid in a corked tube. Standing by, I noticed another hazmat suit pointing a rifle at me.

"What is this", I try to ask, but am cut off by the EMT.

"Open your mouth!"

I try to, but the guy just pulls my ching down with his fingers anyway, then swabs the inside of my mouth. After that, I see him put the cotton in the container of liquid, and he studies it for a few seconds. "He's clean!"

The man with the rifle nods his head and approaches me, his gun aiming down. As he stands in front me, the soldier, or whatever his is, points his rifle right in my face. Before I can beg for my life all I remember is seeing a greenish fog obscure my vision, before I passed out. What felt like seconds later, I wake up in my bed room. I remember sighing with relief that what I experienced was just a dream. Realizing I need to use the bathroom, I go do my business and decide to try and get some more shut-eye because of how unusually tired I felt.

Hours later, I was awakened by my phone. I look at the I.D. and see it's work calling me. I answer.

"Hello?" "Steve? This is Greg from H.R." "What's up, man?" "That's what we'd like to know. You haven't been at work in three days, and have not been answering any of our calls."

What the hell? Bullshit, I didn't!

"What are you talking about? I just got off of second shift a few hours ago. "You mean a few days ago. We thought you got pissed off and quit, man! Your cousin is furious with your right now."

I guess I just noticed this since I was more awake, but I realized at that moment I had an incredibly bad headache.

In a strained voice, I reply: "Look, I don't know what's going on, but I'm coming down right now to get this all sorted out. I'll be there in about a half an hour."

Before letting Greg respond I shut off my phone and hurriedly get ready to go. I spend the whole ritual wracking my brain to figure out what the hell could be going on. I know that was just a dream I had, because anything other conclusion would be illogical. I have a quick cup of coffee and head out the door. On the way to my car, my neighbor Carol calls out to me. I greet her with friendly "Hello", but tell her I'm in a hurry.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I need to ask you something."

Resigned, I hear her out.

"Okay, but please make it quick." She comes off as reluctant, but continues. "It's just that some of the other neighbors have been concerned." I furrow my eye brow in confusion. "Concerned about what?" "About you disappearing the last few days. I know it's no one else's business, but no one has seen you lately, and then all of a sudden some strange van pulls up in front of your house and Mrs. Trevor saw some strange men carrying, in her words, "What looked like a drunken lush" into your house.

A van? Outside my house? I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my teeth clenching to the point of fracturing.

"Thanks for your concern, but I'm okay. I promise. No worries. See?" I give the most convincing smile I can, pointing to my face.

"I am sorry for getting into your business. You're young. You kids like to party, so it's not big deal, I guess." "Thanks for the concern, but I really need to get work now."

Carol starts babbling something else, but I just tear out of my driveway. The whole way to work all I could do was think about how any this can make any sense. The fact I'm still wearing the same clothes in my dream, and that I don't even remember coming home last night has me worried, but not convinced. I'm pretty hard-set against the possibility of anything supernatural, so I'm going to need some hard evidence to convince me that my night on the train wasn't a dream. I'm going to dig a little deeper into this. Will update again as soon as I can.