By David Schembri © 2008

David Schembri is an Australian writer whose credits include: The Horror Day Anthology, Ripples Magazine (issues 7 & 9), the Writing Show 2005 and 2007, Black Box, the FlashSpec Volume 2 Anthology, Flashshot, and AntipodeanSF.
He was a judge in the Australian Shadows Awards 2006, and is a AHWA committee member.
David lives in Victoria with his lovely wife and son.
Visit David's Member Page at:
</www.australianhorror.com/member_pages.php?page=25>
Photograph by Rachael Arutjunow

Aaron snatched his towel from the rack. A morning chill goosed his flesh as he wrapped himself in the fabric. He padded his chest dry within the dying warmth.

As he stepped out onto the bath mat, his wife, Sharon, awaited him, her arms crossed. She stared at him with half-awake eyes. "You know," she said, "You're not going anywhere until I've looked at that arm."

"I'll be fine," Aaron said. He muttered and dried his legs; arm still aching.

"I'll be the judge of that," Sharon said. She gestured him to stand. "Come on, give me a look."

"It hardly hurts any more," Aaron said as he stood. With reluctance, he held out his arm for inspection. "See, the blisters have gone, and the lump is down. I've been stung before, you know."

"It's still red! Does your arm feel tight? Can you move it properly?"

"Yeah, yeah. It'll be fine," he said, unwilling to compromise his weekly golf trip.

"Did you see what stung you? It must have been big enough to notice...I can still see the hole where its stinger went in!"

"Nah, I didn't get a good look at it. I brushed it off my arm when I felt the sting. It probably flew away to die somewhere. Maybe a wasp? Something like that. There was word of some hives down by the refinery's garden. That would explain where it came from."

Sharon stepped back, and her eyes narrowed. She had never liked the company he worked for. "You should make a claim on Work Cover! That bloody place has a responsibility!"

"Yeah, I know," Aaron sighed. "I would, but it was a stressful morning and I really needed a smoke...I didn't actually take an allocated break —"

"Oh, bloody hell, Aaron!"

"I know. Stuff happens. I'll be alright," he reassured her, rubbing his arm.

"Aaron...you play golf every week. I'm sure your buddies can live without you for today. You should rest your arm,"

"No! Being lazy isn't going to help! The fresh air will do me some good." Aaron relaxed his expression, and placed a gentle hand on Sharon's face.

She flinched immediately and screeched, as if a sudden surge of pain had entered her cheek. "Shaz!" Aaron bellowed.

Sharon clasped her hands to her face. She stumbled and fell to her knees.

Aaron froze where he stood. He tried shrieking, but he'd become deaf and mute. He watched Sharon sink to the floor, her eyes glazing, her consciousness fading, till she was still.

Moments later, Aaron was able to lift a shaking hand before his face. His terrified eyes saw the stingers as they retracted beneath his fingernails.

Tears formed within his eyes.

Sharon's head swelled rapidly, doubling in size while Aaron's soul fell to decay — and the emerged monstrosity grinned, longing for more...