Cancelling Novella Release
I’ll explain more soon, this isn’t a bad thing this is a good thing. I’ll hopefully give more details soon. Just hang tight a little bit longer, guys.
(Not a part of the random stock image gang, this is you guys waiting for me to release something.)
Tormentors (7/9/24)
“Tormentors” by ME is coming soon!
I’ve decided on what I’m finally going to be publishing. It’s a novella I’m going to release - if not by the end of July then definitely August - I’m super excited to share some details and even more pumped to finally put something I wrote out there in the world.
I just really liked the way this looked. Pretty, right? Random Stock Image Tally: 7.
“Tormentors” is a novella, kind of a short (around 30,000 words, that’s not even a hundred pages) horror story that also serves as an allegory for some ongoing issues in America. It centers on a summer camp in the 80’s where a girl, Holly Kane, is having a rough time. Her parents and peers don’t understand her, the boy she likes seems to only see her as a friend, and to make matters worse she’s constantly bullied. After a prank goes too far, Holly meets something in the woods near camp. Something cosmic, horrifying, and powerful. From there Holly has to decide who she is, what actions she’s going to take and more importantly, what actions she’s willing to take.
I wrote this around two and a half years ago. I always wanted to write a story set in a summer camp, especially horror. I really love that crystal lake, Jason Voorhees, slasher kind of vibe. I also wanted to write an allegory for some real world issues, but I won’t get into that because it will A.) spoil the plot and B.) detract from what the reader experiences/takes away from it. For me, I want the reader (you) to form your own opinions and conclusions in regards to how everything plays out. I was going to say this is my first step on the road to becoming an author, but I think that privilege belongs to the first day I pulled my laptop out in high school and decided to write a book. So I’d say I’m on my four hundredth and seventy third step of becoming an author.
I’m being a smartass, what I’m saying is this is all part of the journey. I’m super proud of this novella and I hope it gets the support it needs to give me a chance at publishing a bigger book with a publishing company. AKA, getting physical books on shelves.
This… actually isn’t a random image. It won’t get added to the tally. This is a little tease for the story ;)
Furthermore, (you like that? I’m pulling out the lingo you use when you’re writing an essay and you need a transitional word, like therefore, moreover, shit like that) I’m thinking about getting some help from a third party for marketing purposes. While I’d like to think that every single one of my four followers will buy and read this novella, it won’t be enough to make a splash. So I’ve been thinking about that, which is part of why this might take a tad bit longer. But I do know a few of you that have been waiting for this and I really appreciate the patience/understanding.
I’ll be posting updates as soon as I know more, in the meantime all I can say is I’m really excited about publishing this. It won’t be pricey, either. If you think I’m charging a lot I won’t be. My goal is to get it out there and to get people to read the damned thing. Making money is great and all, but making waves is more important at this stage of my career. If I want a shot at the big leagues of this shit, I need to show my worth. So, that’s where you guys come in. Whenever I publish this thing (and there will be links, updates, tutorials, whatever you need to help you find it), please, for the love of all that is holy, go and buy it. Read it, you need to read more probably I don’t know maybe not, but do me a solid.
ESPECIALLY if I gave you gum in high school. You know who I’m talking to, yeah, you, go buy the fuckin book. You know how much I spent on gum for you guys? Exactly!!! :) Alright, I’m out. I’ll keep updating as I go. In the meantime, save up some dollars for me.
Quick Update
More to come…
So, I know it’s been forever AND ever since I posted. Lots has happened. This will be a very short post but more will follow at some point way sooner, no more big gaps.
I’m in the midst of a big move to a new place and I’ve been writing a LOT. The short of it is this: after a very inspiring talk with an old acquaintance I’ve decided I’m probably going to upload one of my novels to Amazon.
I don’t know when, nor do I know what novel (yet), but it’ll probably happen in July. I’m leaning toward a horror novel I’ve been workshopping for awhile. I know this has been brief. But you’ll hear more from me, soon!
Until then, keep an eye out. Thank you!
Full Manuscripts!!! (3/17/24)
Exciting progress update!!!
Before I get to the really exciting stuff, let me just say, I know it’s been awhile. Like, almost two months awhile. I’ve been hella busy with work and writing and sending stuff out and as you’re about to see it totally paid off. Well, not really, but kinda, but yeah, whatever. Let’s get to the good news!
I just thought this was pretty. Random Stock Image Tally: 5.
Super exciting progress has been made. Not one but TWO, count em, TWO (SpongeBob reference, if you don’t like SpongeBob I’m going to politely ask you to leave) publishers have requested a full manuscript for TMK and I’m super excited about it. Not only is this the first time that’s ever happened, but they seemed to actually read what I sent them. Now, for those who aren’t always sending things to agents and publishers, let me just say, that’s fucking rare. Everything I heard back up to this point was in a form letter, that being an automatic and very static rejection that was pre-written and showed no signs of reading my materials. I’m not saying they didn’t, I’m just saying their rejection didn’t reflect it.
However, these two publishers totally read what I sent them. They were very transparent with me and it was very exciting and I can’t tell you how happy I am about it. If this goes well, the next step will be coordinating with whichever publisher likes my book to publish it. If and when that happens, I’ll let you guys know. Now, does this guarantee that TMK will be published? No, absolutely not. But this is progress and that is something that should be celebrated. Hence the balloons and fireworks. The woods are just there because I think they’re pretty. What? I know it’s not consistent with the rest of the post but I like it. Listen man, don’t back talk me, it’s been a long day. You know what? Leave me alone, it’s my blog I can do what I want.
See what I did? This random stock image actually pertains to the blog post. That’s cool, right? Random Stock Image Tally: 6.
Now, I never made it to the Write or Die writing event as much as I wanted to. The schedule is tough because Tuesdays are pretty busy for me. I did however make it to Saturday’s Send It event hosted by Scribble House in Pittsburgh, I love them. They were instrumental in helping me get those full manuscript requests and I’m endlessly thankful (it was also super cute seeing how excited they got when I told them). Everything they’ve told me has been super helpful, so it was gratifying to show them that they’re doing something good. I was told repeatedly by everyone on the damn planet that these things take time, and to not be discouraged that I haven’t heard back yet. That’s good to hear, because I’d definitely be discouraged by now.
So, future fans, hold onto your asses, we’re not out of the woods yet. This is just a small steppingstone in my “I’m becoming a famous author” arc. To whomever reads this, I appreciate you endlessly and hope you stick with me. As I’m sure I’ve said before on this goofy ass blog I don’t have much confidence in myself, for much of anything, except writing! I know I can do this, and I know I’m good at it, and I know the good people of the world will enjoy what I have to offer. It’s just about getting out there and doing it, which is what I’m trying to do, so hard. Anyways, take care guys, and do a dance or say a prayer or cast a spell to make this come to fruition! In the meantime, I’ll try manifesting.
P.S. I didn’t introduce myself at the beginning, did you notice? It was super hard, but I managed.
A Few Updates (2/3/24)
What you do matters…
Hey all, it’s me again.
Nic… it’s… it’s Nic…
Look, on the last post I said I was going to stop introducing myself but it’s weird, alright? I can’t shake the feeling I have to say my name. Okay, moving on.
No real progress has been made since the last post, nothing concrete, anyway. I’ve sent The Mountain King (or TMK from here on out) to a few publishers, but it’s way too soon to hear back from them. I do however have something exciting to look forward to, a new event! I’m heading to something called Write or Die, it’s a critique group that meets on… I don’t remember when they meet but they do. I think it’s Tuesday? I don’t know, I wrote it down somewhere. Anywho, I’m excited. I think getting professional feedback from professional writer dudes would be very helpful. I’m going in confident, too. Which is strange for me. I recently listened to a podcast where an actor talked about his confidence in his craft. He said that at a certain point in his education he stopped listening to the acting advice and just decided to do what made him happy. Realizing that he and fellow students were just modifying their acting to appease the teachers, to get their approval. He commented that because of his upbringing, which was full of love and approval, he didn’t need that from the teachers. It was super interesting, and cool to hear him attribute at least some of his success to that.
I wasn’t kidding, I’m going to keep using random stock images until I run out. Does this Sun have anything to do with what I’m talking about? No. That’s why it’s funny. Random stock image tally: 4.
As someone who has, ahem, remarkable issues when it comes to seeking love and approval externally, that was important to hear. So I know now, going into these events hosted by people with far more experience and knowledge than I could dare hope for, that I should take what they say with a grain of salt. Not to say that I can’t take constructive criticism or that I’m going in with my walls up. But I will have a modicum of wary, I will fight for what I think is right. If they think something I did is wrong and they make sense, good. If they don’t like the story for some strange reason I can’t fathom? Then fine, but I’m not ingesting that, I know what I write is good, it’s just about finding an audience and a way to reach that audience. So many words to say, I won’t go in seeking their love and approval. I don’t need that. This thing I do, this writing. From TMK to the trilogy to any short stories, all of it. What I do, what I’m pursuing, what I love… the writing, it may be the only aspect of my life that has absolute love and approval from the unlikeliest of sources: myself.
I believe I can do this. I have a good head on my shoulders, for the most part, and because of that I know that this is possible. I just have to keep fighting. It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. What I do matters, it makes me feel good and I enjoy doing it. I guess, if there’s an actual purpose to this post, it would be to inspire the four people reading this. What are you passionate about? What do you like to do? What do you enjoy? Too often do we become complacent in life. I’m a twenty five year old kid who has no earthly idea what the fuck he is doing, but I’m doing it because it matters to me and I think I can do it. So, what do you do? I’m here to tell you it matters. What you do matters. I don’t care who says what, I don’t care what you’re into. You want to paint? Go paint. You want to act? Go act. You want to build bikes? Go build bikes. You want to draw pictures of abstract elephants? Draw some abstract elephants. You want to rob a bank? Don’t… don’t do that. Nothing illegal or immoral here people, let’s not be animals. What I’m trying to say is don’t suppress what makes you happy, engage with it. Just do it. Life is too short to waste it away doing everyone else’s bidding. DO what YOU want. It matters, you matter, and so does your aspirations. Not perspirations, that’s gross.
Okay, good talk. I’ll be back at some point with the next entry in my captain’s log.
See you next time, dorks.
Progress Made (1/21/24)
Let me introduce myself a bit better…
Hi, my name is Nic. Do I have to do that every time? I feel like at this point I don’t. From here on out, no more my name blah blah blah. We’ve moved past it, we’re closer now, all is right in the world. How are you? Comfy? Cozy? Relaxed? God, I hope so. Too much tension in the world, we need more comfy, cozy, and relaxed people. I’m rambling? Yeah, that’s fair. Okay, to the point then… that introduction wasn’t a real post, I feel like. This is supposed to help whoever’s reading this better understand who I am. My vibe, my personality. Which, after this first paragraph, has a 50/50 shot of selling you on me. But the blog does present an interesting opportunity. A captains log type situation where I can periodically update the progress of publishing my first novel. That could be cool, right? Does it sound cool? I think it sounds cool… cool.
How many stock images do you guys think I can burn through by the end of this whole thing? My guess is all of them. Might be fun to keep a tally. So far we’re at three, I think.
To catch up, I’ve queried about fifty or so agents with various materials. I have a completed trilogy that I’m quite proud of and hope to get out there some day. But I think it’s a bit too big for agents to bite right now. I need to show my worth before they take those books seriously. At least, that’s the vibe I’m getting. No one has said that, but they haven’t not said it. There’s also a handful of short stories (that centipede one being the shortest), as well as a short novel. That short novel, a horror novella if you will, is what I’m trying to get published now. I went to a literary event about a week or so ago (shout out to ScribbleHousePGH’s “Send It!”) and got some really good advice from the people there. They said getting an agent without having anything published was going to be very difficult, so I decided to take that short novel and get it published so I could get an agent for the trilogy. SO, where does that leave me?
I’ve submitted the manuscript to three smaller presses/publishers in the hopes to get the ball rolling on that. Hopefully, one of them will bite. If they’re anything like the agents I queried, I have a lot more submitting to do. For some odd reason, I always thought writing would be the hardest part of this whole process. If you read the about page then you know I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. In all those years of writing aspirations I never once thought getting an agent, representation, or publication would be difficult. In hindsight, that’s incredibly naive, but I was a kid. Now, I realize that writing is the easiest (and best) part; But if I want to do this for a living then I have to get the writing out there onto shelves and into your hands.
I hope to do that, soon. There’s nothing I love more than this, than typing away on a keyboard and conveying something to someone, or at least trying. I’m largely pessimistic, and self deprecating, which is why I’m so shocked by my confidence in the stuff I write. I genuinely think it’s good literature, and I think you will agree with me. My job is to give you the opportunity to judge for yourself.
Before I go, I’ll leave a brief synopsis of the horror novel in case anyone is interested. Also, thank you for reading this. Means a lot to me. Alright, toodles.
The Mountain King
The Mountain King is a horror novel/novella that tells the story of David, a meek and admittedly weak man with not much going on in life. After discovering his wife’s infidelity, she divorces him and gets full custody of the children leaving him on his own. Meanwhile, he runs into an old friend of his, Mark, an alpinist who has everything in life. He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he doesn’t have to work for a living. In their reunion, David realizes he wants to climb a mountain with his long lost friend. Both to compensate for his perceived emasculation and to prove to himself he’s not weak. They decide on the Annapurna Circuit, a dangerous route in a dangerous time of year. Their guide, Faneel, leads the small group made up of David and Mark. As well as Bryce, the experienced alcoholic who’s climbed many times before. Finally, there is Larry and Wendy, a toxic couple who are just as much amateurs as David is. They all embark on this adventure for their own reasons, there’s only one problem…
Something sinister awaits them on their route. A malevolent creature that is eager to greet these newcomers. It is sadistic, cunning, strong, and most of all… hungry.
Introductions and Short Story (1/20/24)
It all begins with an idea.
Hello, my name is Nic. This is the first of what may be many blog posts so that those that are interested can get to know me and who I am. For the briefest of introductions, I am an aspiring writer living in Pennsylvania. I love everything mystery, horror, and thriller related. Hence, most of my writing encompassing some combination of those genres. I enjoy cooking, I abhor playing sports, and I’m obsessed with video games as much as I am good storytelling. In order for you to better understand what I write, I’m going to be posting a short horror story I wrote.
It’s technically classified as a novella at 17,000 words, but I don’t think it’s long enough to be a novella. It’s a mature story that’s not for the squeamish especially when it comes to insects so you have been warned! Please, enjoy:
I Love Centipedes
The company was founded in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Named Exterminex, it was built from the ground up by Josef Holub, an immigrant fleeing Ukraine in 1944. It was the first pest control company to originate in the city, and grew in popularity over time. Over the years, the company saw many hardships, and almost completely went under in 1990. Its owner then was the son of Josef, Bohdana. Bohdana was a Ukrainian name meaning “given by god”, which Josef truly thought he was. He’d been everything a father could want, responsible, intelligent, and hard working. Bohdana spent most of his younger years pursuing psychology, which Josef had supported until his death in 1985.
At that time, at the ripe young age of 28, Bohdana took it upon himself to replace his father at Exterminex and do his best to uphold the reputation of the company. However, through a variety of mistakes, the company’s stocks plummeted and almost went bankrupt before Bohdana rescued it. With what some would call a revolutionary new set of rules and customs, he was able to motivate everyone and himself to get the company back on the map. He’d seen Exterminex through its hardest times, and for that, he earned a lot of respect.
Then, in 1993, three years after the company had almost gone belly up, a son was born. The grandson to Josef Holub, he would be the heir to the Exterminex empire. Bohdana had grown up an American, and had given his son an American name: James, James Holub. James grew up in the 90’s and 2000’s as a headstrong but arrogant child. He had a tendency to think he was better than others, and often disregarded any opinion or fact that didn’t blend with his thinking. However, he loved his father and his family very much. He also saw how important the business was for them, as it provided him with a very good upbringing.
Bohdana often spoke to his son about his hopes for the company. He wanted James to pick up the mantle as he had for his father before him. James, however, was less than enthused. He barely knew his grandfather because Bohdana rarely spoke of him. He never told his son of Josef’s life or his death. So his son of course wasn’t as interested as Bohdana wanted him to be. The other contributing factor was that James ever only wanted to do one thing: nothing. The boy was lazy in nature, and getting him to do much of anything was like pulling teeth. Josef had been a bit strict with Bohdana, but Bohdana had a good work ethic now. And that was a connection he never made. Being the hard working and intelligent man that he was, he wanted things to be easier for his son. So, he spoiled him, and it happened so fast that Bohdana couldn’t stop what James had become. By the age of eleven, James was an unrepentant spoiled brat.
He often got into trouble at school, he would disobey directions given by his parents and teachers alike, and he had an affinity for exposing himself to the girls in his class. These were behaviors that Bohdana tried to nip in the bud, but from his perspective, it was a lost cause. Through all the difficulties, his parents still loved him. Then, in 2020, his father was one of those who died in the COVID-19 pandemic. At 27 years old, James was floored. He lived with his high school sweetheart who was now his wife, Claire, and had been inconsolable for days. In his final will and testament, Bohdana asked that James come into his own, and do what made him happy. Continuing to say James should grow up and be responsible, and while not permanent, that his father would like him to work at the company.
If, for nothing else, to gain some experience and make the family proud, to learn some responsibility and mature a little. And despite his misgivings, at his mother and wife’s behest he took over the company in 2021. Everyone was warm and welcoming, and excited to see the son of Bohdana, who was very different from his father. After a few rocky weeks, he began to have the confidence to run the entire operation, maybe too much confidence. And the existing employees soon had reason to worry.
Being the oldest pest control company founded in Pittsburgh, it had its perks. Apart from creating several jobs at the time, the company was well known for two things since its inception. One, that making things right was very important, if the pest wasn’t taken care of after the service was done, there would be refunds and discounts to fix that. Two, while the company took care of many pests such as raccoons and mice, it primarily handled insects. Immediately, James ransacked both of these ideals the company had held since its inception. He insisted the reasoning was to push forward in a new and exciting direction that was more profitable. But the truth, which only his wife knew, was that he didn’t want to deal with insects. They simply scared him too much.
Being the head of an extermination company, it shamed James greatly that he had entomophobia. Like most insecure men, he denied his feelings and acted as if this wasn’t an issue. Even though almost all of the company’s business was primarily insect related. As for the refunds, it wouldn’t be profitable for the company, plain and simple. When James saw the figures for himself, he realized with a few tweaks they could augment their services and customs to make more money. Cutting out entire positions dedicated to safeguarding the wellbeing of customers, cutting back on expenses for better equipment and traps, and hiking up the prices for all services. These were all things James implemented fairly quickly. Before long, the reputation of the company had plummeted. Stories of customers being treated rudely and charged ridiculous prices were spreading online like wildfire.
Now, in 2023, two years since he’d taken over, the company was a shadow of its former self. There were now only a handful of workers in the company, which had moved to a much smaller building. James was still arrogantly practicing the same rules he’d enforced two years prior, and he was now losing money. No one was calling them anymore, profits were bad. He’d had two receptionists and one exterminator walk out this month. Which meant he’d have to be in the field, which he hated.
The stress of this new job was beginning to take a toll on James, who was finding no success in complaining to his wife. She had begun to grow weary of James’ ways, calling him selfish and rude more than once. He insisted that his problems were just more important than hers, but she wasn’t hearing it. Because of the stress he had lost a great deal of weight. James was a short man, which had always bothered him. Old friends use to poke fun at the fact that his wife was taller than him. His hair was combed over, tightly, so much so that it looked painful. This hid his bald spot. To top it off he was a stout, stocky built man, who often lashed out at others because of his problems. So, he’d lost friends, his father, and soon his business. Now, sitting in his sweltering office, interviewing potential receptionists, he was finding himself unable to muster any enthusiasm.
“Did you bring a resumé?” He asked patiently, staring at the old woman who sat sweating across from him. She nodded, sliding a folder toward him. The room was windowless and lifeless, with boxes still piled high in the corner.
“My, it’s quite hot.” She chuckled, mostly to break the silence, he thought.
“We used to have air conditioning in here, but… they took that out awhile back.” He said with thinly veiled anger. Looking over her papers, she seemed more than qualified to work here, and he desperately needed a new receptionist. He had one now that was working overtime and he couldn’t afford overtime. So, James gave her a figure.
Her face spelled disappointment, “Are you… are you sure that’s the best you can offer?”
“Yes. And if that’s so upsetting to you, go somewhere else.” He said matter-of-factly, “We need someone who isn’t old anyways.”
Outraged, the old woman wandered off and left him alone in the heat. Rubbing his eyes, he was beginning to grow impatient with this life as of late. The first interview had ended just as quickly as it began, this wasn’t good. His phone buzzed, it was his one and only receptionist.
“There’s two left.”
“Okay, send the next one in.”
After a few moments, the next woman came in, she was also quite old. After mentioning the heat, he had already decided her employment future here. But he stuck out the interview anyway, which lasted about twenty minutes. He showed her out, and shook her hand, polite as he could be. The main reason was to get into the hall where a window was open though, which didn’t provide much air but it was more than his office had. Walking the woman out, he saw what had to be a customer through the receptionists window. “Who is that?”
“That’s your next interview.” She sighed. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The reason he’d assumed her a customer was due to her age. She couldn’t be older than 25, and with short blonde hair and a low cut white top he was excited to have this interview in his hot office.
“Send her in.” He exclaimed gleefully.
When she sat down across from him, he could see that she didn’t want to be here. Her lips were pursed and her eyes narrow, yet there was such beauty in her features he couldn’t help being enamored.
“Did you bring a resumé?” He asked.
“No.”
“Oh, may I ask why?”
Her eyes darted to his with scorn, “Two reasons, one, I don’t want this job. Two, I’m nineteen and haven’t had a job yet.”
“Hrm.” He pretended to think about his next question, “Why don’t you want this job?”
“Because I don’t want to work at some bug place.”
“We handle pests like raccoons or possum more than insects.” He muttered quickly, “Why’d you come in then?”
“Because my dad used to work here and he said I could get a job hassle free or whatever.”
“I see,” He said, her eyebrow had two piercings, and so did her tongue. He glanced down her shirt and briefly wondered if she had other piercings, “What’s your father’s name?”
“Garrett Williams.” She said.
“I knew him, he was before my time, he worked under my father who was the owner before me.”
“So it’s like a family business?” She asked, catching him staring at her chest.
He cleared his throat and his flushed face spoke, “Yeah, that’s about right.”
“So.” She threw her hands up in the air, “I’m not dressed right, I have piercings, I’m unprofessional and rude, I have no experience, can I leave now?”
He smiled, “No I don’t think so, I think I’ll oblige your father and let you take up here for some work experience.”
The look on her face was priceless, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “You can start tomorrow if you want.”
“I don’t want to start at all!” She shouted, “I’ll just leave, screw this.”
“Won’t your father be upset?”
She stopped in her pacing, “Yeah.”
“What can I tell him that would make him happy?”
“That you liked me and that I seemed like a good worker but I wasn’t a good fit or something that might make me look good?” She looked happier.
“You popular with the boys?” James asked suddenly. He didn’t know what took over him, his heart was pounding in his chest. A quizzical look spread over her face.
“… why?”
“You scratch my back I scratch yours. I could just as easily tell your father that you did something awful while you were here.”
“Like what?” Her face grew worried. This might not go well. He was thirty and she was nineteen.
“Like…” He couldn’t do this, couldn’t say this, what about his wife? He glanced at her body again, “Like you tried to sleep with me to get out of being hired here.”
“Excuse me?” She gasped, “I didn’t even do that!”
“He wouldn’t know…” James smiled, “But… if you make me happy,” He stood up, “It could be worth your while.”
She swallowed, and looked at him with anger in her eyes. She slumped her shoulders and dropped her purse into the chair in front of her, “What do you want me to do?”
He walked over to his office door and locked it, then turned back and faced her, “In my entire life, you know I’ve only ever been with one woman? My wife and I, we met in high school. She dated a few guys before me. I dated some girls but never made it very far, she’s the only girl I’ve ever slept with. She claims she’s never been with another guy,” The girl’s face was growing with understanding, he couldn’t tell if she was disgusted or entertained or both, “But I don’t believe her. My point is, you caught my eye.”
She looked back at him with what he saw was disdain, “You’re disgusting.”
“What’s your name again?” He asked, she laughed, and he saw her face warm. It didn’t excite him that she might do it, it didn’t excite him to cheat on his wife, it excited him to do something selfish, and know it was selfish.
“You’re a pig, I’m going home.” She said. Before she could grab her purse, he grabbed her arm, “Let go of me!”
He guided her hand to his dick. It stayed there, and she stared at him with anger.
“I think you want to do this.” He said, “I think you do this often. Just with younger boys, but how about you try things with a man?”
She snorted, “Not much of one.”
This was a bad idea. He had a wife whom he loved, but lately it felt like she didn’t love him back. Was that him justifying this behavior? He knew this was wrong. It was during that thought that she’d shimmied out of her top and his mind went blank.
***
“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams, Candace seemed like a great girl, she just wasn’t right for us. We all really liked her at the office though, you did a tremendous job.” James held the phone to his shoulder while he buckled his belt. Candace was looking for her thong, and the sight caused James to make her father repeat himself. “Sorry, yes that’s fine. Anytime Mr. Williams, yes, you too. Goodbye.”
He hung up and watched her get dressed. Her makeup was a bit smeared, and she looked at him for a moment, “How old are you anyway?”
“Twenty four.” He lied, “Will I see you again?”
She blushed, “Do you want to see me again?”
“I want to fuck you again.” He said with a smile. He was back inside her within a few minutes. While she was bent over the desk, his phone began to ring, incessantly. He was struggling to stay hard because of it. With an agitated groan, he yanked on the receiver while she said something. He shushed her, “Yes, hello?”
“Mr. Holub? I’m sorry to interrupt your uh… interview, but this guy keeps calling and won’t leave us alone.”
“Yeah… okay, write down his information, tell him I’ll call back as soon as I’m done here.” He said.
“When do you think that will be?”
“Ten minutes.”
Candace laughed, far too loud.
“Shut up!” He shouted. The line went dead. “You’re gonna get me in trouble goddammit.”
He felt her tighten around him, “Am I in trouble now?”
“Oh god help me.” He muttered, in seconds she was on top of him on his desk. Approximately ninety seconds later she was out the door and he was getting the information from his receptionist.
***
“You’re home early, how was your day?” Claire asked. James had just entered the front door, and briefly considered telling her about the wonderful fucking in his office.
“Uneventful.” He replied, kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat, “Did you make anything for dinner?”
“I figured we could order pizza.”
He could hear she’d been drinking, “Fine.”
“Can you pay?” She called. Of course I’ll fucking pay, he thought.
“Yes.” He strutted into the living room and sat next to her on their leather couch. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. She smelled like wine.
“You’re shaking.”
"Am I?” He hadn’t noticed, the day had been more eventful than he let on.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” He said quickly, before getting out of the room and walking upstairs. Struggling to maintain a cool head with the day’s events, he rested his head against the door of the bathroom. Not only had he not hired a receptionist, but he cheated on his wife with someone much younger than him. Guilt had struck him quickly afterward. However, these events were not what had James so upset. After the beauty had left his office, he was told that a man named Philip Peterson had called eighteen times.
Philip Peterson had rung a bell in his head, he just didn’t know which. Then, he googled the name. He saw the name of an extermination company pop up, and instantly connected the dots. Philip Peterson ran Exterminatrix, a company that had gone out of business just a few years ago. In its hay day, Exterminatrix was the main competitor of his father’s company. Bohdana was struggling to keep Exterminex afloat, and Exterminatrix swooped in and seized that opportunity. The irony was abounding, an exterminator calling his rival’s son for help with a pest problem.
What wasn’t amusing was the pest Peterson required assistance with. Centipedes. Now, James disliked all insects, they disgusted him and made gave him great deals of anxiety. Centipedes, however, were far and away the worst for him. Everything about them was horrifying, and he felt like they were crawling all over him at just the thought. And to make matters worse, there were no exterminators left to deal with this problem. Which meant he had to deal with it, and he did not want to.
“James?”
He jumped, she was standing behind him, worry spread across her face.
“Y-yes?” He asked.
“Is everything okay?” She took a step toward him. Through everything, he still loved her, and now the guilt was back in full swing. Without warning he grabbed her, and pulled her tight, resting his head against her breast. He began to sob uncontrollably, gripping onto her for dear life. “What’s wrong? James, please, what happened?”
He could only mutter into her shirt. She reassured him everything would be fine, without even knowing what his issue was. A good wife, a good woman. What a despicable man he was. After a good bit of crying and talking, they finally sat together. And he could feel the air was different. This was the first time they’d enjoyed each other’s company in a long time. She cuddled with him on the couch, and they watched TV together. It felt good, to have someone there for him. Someone that had his back. And what had he done? He’d slept with some nineteen year old just because he could, just because she was cute. The shame was more than he could bear, when Claire tried to make a move on him, he rejected her, and went to bed.
***
Sitting in the office, he typed away on his desktop computer. The one that just yesterday had been on the floor while during Candace’s… interview. The short man’s eyes were baggy and bloodshot. He hadn’t slept a wink, and even though he had no intention of reaching out to Mr. Peterson, he was terrified the situation would not resolve itself. His hands were shaking as they typed, and he realized he was typing gibberish, his mind elsewhere. When the phone rang he jumped out of his skin.
“Yes?”
“It’s him again.”
His heart dropped, “Hang up the phone, we aren’t taking his business.”
“No… he’s here.”
What?! James dropped the receiver and it hung from his desk while he stormed into the reception area. Standing in the lobby was a gaunt man with sunken eyes and an elongated nose. Little hairs stuck out from his nostrils, and his ears drooped. A shadow of a beard was forming in patches on the man’s haggard face. Glasses hung at the edge of his long nose, and his forehead was gleaming with sweat. He looked to be far older than the mere forty four years he actually was. It seemed stress was taking a toll on this man as well. The wild look in his brown eyes told James that today would not be any better than the previous one.
“Are you James Holub? The owner of Exterminex?” The man asked, he was fidgeting with his hands in front of him. As if he was afraid to let them stay still for too long.
“No.”
The man shot a look at the receptionist, who said, “I already told him sir.”
James Holub, the owner of Exterminex growled, “What do you want Mr. Peterson?”
“Please, just let me speak to you.” The man groaned, his voice was raspy and shallow.
“Fine, follow me.”
The two arrived at the sweltering office, and James sat down without even shutting the door behind his desk, the sooner this would be done the better. The wiry man eased into the chair across from him, still fidgeting with his hands. He was sweating even more now, and appeared to be in a constant state of fear.
“You have to help me,” He said after a long while, “They won’t stop coming.”
“The…” James hesitated, and swallowed hard, “The centipedes?”
“Yes.”
“Listen, Mr. Peterson, I’m very sorry - ”
“No no no no no NO!” The man shouted, standing abruptly, “YOU… you people don’t understand. I can’t just move, I can’t leave, no one will buy the house as it is. My family… I don’t even know where they’ve gone.”
“That’s not where I was going, Mr. Peterson,” James said calmly, doing his best to hide his true emotions, “It’s just that exterminex doesn’t deal with insects anymore, we handle other pests. Any equipment that might help you was sold years ago.”
“That’s not what your receptionist said, that’s not what the other companies said, why are you lying to me?”
The receptionist definitely needed replaced, “What do you mean other companies?”
“The other exterminating companies,” Mr. Peterson was now pacing around the room anxiously, “They all turned me down. They all said I was crazy.”
Just shut the fuck up, and make him leave, don’t ask a single question. James thought for a moment longer, “You went to my competitors?”
“I didn’t want to come here. You were my competition. But… I knew your father. I knew he would listen, he was a good man, despite all we did to each other. It was always business. I know he would help me. But now, looking at you, I know that’s not going to happen anymore. That you’re going to treat me just like the others. That you will think I’m crazy too.”
“Why?”
“Because they aren’t there when they’re there.”
“I’m sorry?” He asked, it felt like they were crawling on him already. He shivered.
“The centipedes you fool! They just… vanish when anyone comes to see the house!”
“That’s not possible,” James began to absentmindedly itch his arm, “It’s just not.”
“If that’s how you feel, then you can come investigate yourself.”
“Me?”
“Yes, that’s the way it has to be, your workers will just admonish me like all the others. If you really are your father’s son, you’ll help me because it’s the right thing to do.”
This struck a chord for James, the words of his father’s will had meant something to him. Of course he wanted to honor his legacy, and he wasn’t doing that now, with the company going down the toilet. But would Bohdana really have wanted him to help his professional adversary?
“I’ll pay you whatever you want.” Mr. Peterson said softly. This was clearly something he didn’t say with pleasure. Money must be tight, but he’ll drop every cent he can to fix this mess. And James had believed him before they even shared this room. That would be the deciding factor now. He was desperate enough, he needed the money. What’s worse is the fact that he would need to do it. Not because there was no one else, but because he was all there was. James thought of his father, and felt the shame of betraying his wife, and looked into the sorrowful man’s eyes across from him.
“Fine.”
After Mr. Peterson had left was when James noticed the phone was still hanging off the hook. He lifted it to his ear and heard his receptionist confirm the entire meeting. With a sigh, he hung it up, and hunched over into his chair. He didn’t even notice the three centipedes crawling under the couch across the office.
***
The house was in fine shape. Situated in the suburbs outside of downtown Pittsburgh, James stood at the front door to take it all in. The walls were a pale yellow, with white trim. There were three levels: a first floor, a second floor, and a basement. The first floor had a living room, and a dining room. Same yellow walls with white trimming, except the kitchen. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes and the stove stank like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Shocked there aren’t any cockroaches wandering around here. Every light in the house looked like it needed changing immediately when turned on. Even more strange was something small but very noticeable.
It didn’t matter what home you went to or how rich a neighborhood it was. If you went to a house, and looked into the lights sealed in, not lamps or chandeliers; Lights that were imbedded in the walls or had something to be encased in, you would certainly see bugs. Dead, old, shriveled up, bugs. Cluttered at the bottom and easy to see as silhouettes below your light. In this house, the one rife with a supposed infestation, there wasn’t a single bug to be found. This was odd, especially to the exterminator.
Not to mention, every room was in disarray. Furniture had obviously been moved several times, there were holes in walls, and several commercially available insect traps scattered everywhere. James might not have liked this part of the job, but he was good at it. His flashlight explored every nook and cranny, he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes before coming here, a new record for him. His skin was crawling with imaginary insects and he could hear the scuttling long legs those monstrous bugs possessed at every turn.
Now, it was time for the upstairs. He ascended the white staircase with hesitation, eyeing walls like they might come alive and jump him. When he got to the top, he saw there were two bedrooms, a closet, and a bathroom. More modest than it appeared from the outside. He started with the bedroom. The door was cracked open just a bit, and there were probably upwards of fifty traps surrounding the entrance and the bed. Careful where he stepped, James maneuvered through the bedroom. The mattress was stacked high atop two bed frames. He doesn’t want them crawling on him when he sleeps. There were even traps taped to the legs of the frames. The ceiling fan was hanging down from the ceiling by its wiring. Only a few inches off the floor.
“What’s with the fan?” James called.
“If I turn it on, they scatter.”
He saw a doorway in the corner, and advanced toward it. Opening it slowly, he saw it was just a small bathroom for the master bedroom. Again, there was nothing to speak of here. Frustration was spreading through James’ body. What would his father have done? What should he do? What’s the protocol for a home with no infestation? Checking the main bathroom, he again, found nothing. The closet had women’s clothes as well as children’s clothes in it, that was surprising.
“Didn’t you say your wife and children left?”
“They did.”
“It looks like a lot of their stuff is still here.”
“They took what they could in a rush.” Mr. Peterson said quietly.
James shut the closet door, it seemed strange to him that they would leave in a rush when there was no reason to leave in a rush. But it didn’t matter, he was here for bugs, not to probe this man’s suffering. He descended the stairs, and shook his head at Mr. Peterson to indicate that nothing had been found. So, the man was beginning to have a panic attack at the front door. It was strange, seeing the magnate of a huge exterminating company that had rivaled his father’s in such a vulnerable state.
“They’re here, I swear it, I swear it.” He cried out, clutching at his chest, “I swear Mr. Holub, I swear it on my children.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you if there’s nothing here.” James said, his heart was pounding in his chest, “I’m going to check the basement now.”
The basement, where house centipedes more often than not lived. They liked cool, damp areas. A narrow hallway of steps that was hard even for James to walk down led to the basement. Flashlight in hand, he inspected the room fleetingly. There was a washer and a dryer, and some dirt under long forgotten windows and floorboards. The unfinished room stank of mildew and mold, and again, no bugs in sight. Not a one. James knew this was wrong, he knew this was weird, but there was nothing he could do besides give his advice.
Ascending to the first floor, he found Philip Peterson staring at the sky on his porch. Standing next to him, James took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. The two were quiet for a moment with each other, pondering.
“You didn’t see any did you?”
“I didn’t see any because there weren’t any, Philip.”
“No… no…” The old man’s eyes formed tears.
“I’m sorry Mr. Peterson, all I can say is this. Take what you can, and sell this place as fast as you can. Get out of here, and don’t look back.” James watched the sad state before him. When he realized he wouldn’t get an answer, he walked off toward his car. The last he saw Mr. Peterson was huddled on his porch floor sobbing.
***
He slammed the front door shut, and kicked his shoes off haphazardly. Dropping the coat to the floor, he moseyed into the living room and found Claire asleep on the couch. He sat down on the floor and rested his head against her hand. Before long he heard her breathing change pace, and she slowly sat up.
“How long have you been home?”
“Just a few minutes,” He said, “How are you?”
“You…” She paused, “You haven’t asked me that in a long time.”
“I’m sorry.” He said, “Can I tell you about my day?”
She grumbled, “What’s the point in asking if you don’t care to hear my answer?”
“I talked to a customer today… about the centipedes again.” He said quickly. She recoiled and his head fell from where her hand had propped it up, he turned to face her.
“So?” She asked with indifference.
“So… I don’t know what I’m going to do now. There were none there Claire. How the fuck is that possible?”
“What do you mean? There were none?”
“I mean exactly that. None. Zip. Nada. Zilch. It just doesn’t make sense…”
“Why would he… what could he gain by making it up?”
“He isn’t Claire, you should have seen him. He’s a wreck.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“I said I don’t know!” He stomped his foot, “I can’t… this stress, my head? I can’t…” Stumbling across the room, he fell against the wall and slid to the floor. “Claire… everything is falling apart.”
“Don’t say that.”
“The business is failing. I can’t even hire a receptionist. I only have one exterminator. And it’s ME. No one is calling. What am I going to do?”
She stood up, and sat with him on the floor, “What happened today is what happened. You can’t change that, everything is going to be okay. He’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about him.”
“The centipedes can’t hurt you either baby.” She sounded condescending, like she was mocking him, his face grew red. They sat there for a moment, and she began to rub his leg with her hand, “Can I tell you about me now?”
He groaned, stood up, and left for the bedroom, on the stairs he turned, “Not everything is about you.”
After he’d ascended the stairs, she whispered softly to herself, “Nothing ever is.”
***
James was resting his head over his hands on his desk. The days had been dull and boring in the wake of Philip Petersons inquiry. All he could think about were those long legs, scurrying across his body. With a shiver, he answered the ringing phone, “Yes?”
“She’s here.”
James smiled, this would take some stress away, “Send her in.”
The tall blonde with pierced nipples barged in without warning, “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“What did I do?” He knew full well what he did, but he was so happy to have her back.
“My dad told me what you said. That you had decided to hire me? What the fuck?!” She threw a hand out that caught James across the cheek, he raised his hand to defend himself when another hit caught him in the jaw.
“Ow, ow!” She raised her hand again, “Why?!”
“Why?! Seriously?!” She glared at him, he noticed the door was open behind her, “You made me fuck you! For nothing!”
“I thought you enjoyed it!”
“That’s because I wanted you to hold up your end of the deal! Pervert! Pedophile!”
This was not how this was supposed to go. He stumbled to the door to shut it but she stopped him. God, I wish I was taller. She flung it open, causing it to hit the wall with a thud.
“Candace, relax.”
“I don’t care!” She shouted, “HEY! This old creep made me have sex with him! It was the worst I’ve ever had!”
“Candace shut up!” He pushed her out the way and slammed the door shut, “What is the matter with you? I was just trying to have some fun!”
“You’re a pervert.” She said again, “You’re a predator, I’m telling everyone.”
“Okay wait, please, just hold on, we can work this out.”
“How? What are you gonna do? Call my dad and tell him you changed your mind? Again?”
“You don’t have to work here!”
“But he’ll think I am!”
“SO LET HIM!” James shouted, “I won’t say any different, will you? Jesus Christ.”
She sat in it for a moment, thinking about what he said, “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you actually liked me.” He muttered, rubbing his cheek, “Ow…”
“Aw poor baby.” She mocked, rubbing his shoulder, “So I really don’t have to work? But you’ll say I will?”
“Yes…” He groaned, “Just go.”
“I…” She stopped short, and walked to the door, before turning, “Sorry for hitting you.”
“Whatever.” He watched her leave and stomped his foot like a kid in a tantrum.
***
After she’d gone, James sat in his office and thought about what was going to happen. He had no prospects, he hadn’t done anything worthwhile in school to create a future for himself. This company would be ruined by the end of the year, he didn’t know what was left. And he cheated on his wife, with a girl who just hit him in the face. Maybe she was right, maybe he was a predator. But now, he had to do whatever she said. One word from her and his life would be ruined for good. Not just financially, his personal reputation would be tarnished.
He only got two calls that day, not including the several from Mr. Peterson. Of which, he finally relented, and answered, “What is it Mr. Peterson?”
“You have to come back, they’re here now! There’s more… good god…I swear there’s more every day…. Please Mr. Holub! You must come!”
James sighed, and decided to ignore Claire’s advice, “I’ll leave in a few minutes.”
When he arrived, Mr. Peterson was sitting on the steps out front of his little suburban house, slapping at his neck or his legs. Probably trying to kill imaginary bugs. Maybe that was the point. Were the centipedes a metaphor?
“Mr. Holub!”
“Yes. Mr. Peterson, I’m here.” He walked past the scared man and opened the unlocked door quickly. Thinking for a moment that he might be able to catch one running across the floor. No such luck. This time, he was far more meticulous. Shining a flashlight on every square foot of the house that he could access. Pulling down rotted pieces of wood that had been torn apart by termites years ago, or ripping up tattered carpeting on the staircase. He moved furniture, kitchen appliances, and above all he scoured the basement. All the while, Mr. Peterson sat outside, never once coming in.
Part of James was relieved to find nothing, but the other part of him was petrified. It was a lose lose situation. You find the centipedes, then you have to deal with horrifying bugs that look like aliens. You find no centipedes, and the situation gets stranger. What James did notice, was the longer he spent in the house, the harder it got for him to focus. Like something was in the air that was affecting his brain. Perhaps that was worth looking into more than the centipedes. At one point, he swore he heard something. And then he saw Mr. Peterson standing in the doorway.
“You didn’t find any did you?” The man didn’t look surprised, only disappointed, and afraid most of all. James found himself feeling for the scared man, and wished there was something he could do to help, maybe there was. “They’re here, I swear to god and on my children Mr. Holub, they’re here. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I believe you.” James said, with his back still facing the man who was struggling to breathe.
“You do?”
“I do, Philip.”
***
It was the end of another long and excruciating day. After all was said and done, at the end of business hours, as he was locking up, he noticed that his receptionist had gone. He hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t there when he’d returned from Philip’s house. After calling her name and her phone, he saw something on the doorknob that led to the lobby. A note, it looked like. It was in her handwriting, after reading it, his heart dropped. Of all things, not now. Without another thought he grabbed his keys, leaving behind everything he had, and left the office in a rush, not even locking up. The car whizzed through the neighborhood in a frenzy, he drove faster than he ever had in his life. I can’t fucking believe she did this. Fucking receptionist.
Clouds overhead foretold a storm. The sky was darkening quickly despite it being only five in the afternoon in Autumn. Before long they would be pelted by torrents of rain. His car came to a screeching halt. There was already a suitcase at the foot of the steps. James scrambled through the front door and saw her huffing and puffing with a piece of luggage in each hand. He could see this fight would not be won, and that this was just another in a long line of struggles he would have to deal with.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” She finally spoke.
“I… I didn’t know you two knew each other.” He said softly.
She scoffed, “I should have guessed, no apology, no explanation, no begging. Just a simple and sad statement. You were so sloppy that you didn’t think your receptionist would say anything? Are you serious?”
“I didn’t know she knew you,” He said again, “But… it didn’t mean anything.”
She laughed, “You’re right, this, what we are? It never meant a damn thing, not to you anyways.”
“Claire please…” She stormed past, and he tried to grab her arm.
“Don’t you touch me!” She screamed, lurching through the door and hobbling down the steps. He could hear her despair, her desperation to hold tears back. He felt the same at this moment. A car pulled up, she probably would be staying with her friends tonight, if not indefinitely. “James?”
He turned, and saw the rage in her eyes, the heartbreak in her, he felt guilty again, “I’m sorry.”
“We’re done, I never want to see you again.” She called, “I hope those damn centipedes eat you from the inside out.”
***
No receptionist, no wife, no business, no life. James sat in his office, it was four o clock in the morning, Claire wasn’t answering her phone. It had been two days. and the only contact with the outside world he had were the barrage of phone calls from Mr. Peterson. All of which went unanswered. Things were different now, everything would always be different now. Half the bottle of Jack Daniels was gone, and another swig was going down the hatch when the front door took a beating. At first, he thought the pounding was just his headache. Then he realized someone was trying to get his attention. It sounded like that someone was fighting to get in, and would not be dissuaded. James stood and stumbled to the door, opening it to see a shell of a man standing in the rain. He wasn’t surprised.
“How could you?” Mr. Peterson asked, he pushed past James without invitation, “I mean… after what you said, you believed me! How could you ignore me? How could you leave me to my own devices?”
“I’m sorry Philip.”
“You smell of booze, what are you even doing here? For two days and nights this place has been abandoned. I thought a third trip would be pointless until I saw your lights were on. And now I see you’re going through your own hell. But the difference is, you can help me with mine.”
“How is that?” James asked, “I can’t exterminate an insect that isn’t there, nor one that I’m afraid of. I cannot conjure up an explanation for what you’re living through. I certainly can’t help you now that I’m essentially ruined.”
“You’re the only one left…” Philip muttered, “There’s no one else.”
“You want my advice?” James asked, “Move out, find another place, and disappear, don’t even take anything with you, just get out of here.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He said, “And I just might take my own advice as well. Start anew somewhere, maybe work in a factory…”
“You sound like a raving lunatic,” Philip said, “Just get rid of them! Please. You’re the expert, they’re there, I swear it. Do what you must, tear up the floorboards, break down the walls, I don’t care! I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t rest, all I hear is their scuttling about inside the walls.”
“Then see a shrink,” James said, harshly, “You’re the lunatic, not me. You’re seeing and hearing something that doesn’t exist. I shouldn’t have told you I believed you, I was fanning flames. That’s my fault. Pretend I never said anything.”
“Please, James, please, as a fellow man, help me! You said you wouldn’t let them hurt me, you said you would protect me!”
James shoved Philip to the ground of the lobby, and kicked him hard, “Get out, old man. You’re an embarrassment to the industry. ”
“Please,” Philip sobbed, “Please, I can’t go back, don’t make me.”
Another kick, “Get out! Before I call the police!”
“You’re assaulting me!”
“Self defense! Go sleep with your imaginary bugs.” James spat. The crying old man stood, and left in a huff. As the door whined shut, the lobby was suddenly very quiet. He realized the noise he heard was his own breathing. “What’s wrong with me?”
He’d done it now, he was officially one of the worst people ever. Beating a helpless man, cheating on his wife, ruining his father’s business, and the list could go on. He absentmindedly itched his neck, what was he going to do. His neck itched again and he felt the bug crawl quickly on his hand when he went to scratch. The centipede quickly ran into his sleeve and he screamed as loud as he ever had. Within seconds his clothes were off and he was standing in the lobby naked, staring at the pile of clothes, waiting for the insect to emerge.
He sat down, his bare ass recoiling from the cold linoleum. Staring at the heap of clothes, he waited, and waited. After nearly five minutes, he stood up, and shook them. Turned them inside out, checked the pockets, and tossed them around. No bug, no centipede. He began to laugh to himself. He had truly lost his mind, he might as well go and walk down the street buck naked just to cap it all off. See how far he could get before he was arrested, he probably belonged in jail anyways.
“My life is falling apart.” He said to no one, “And it’s all my fault.”
***
It had been a few days since his meltdown at work, and was in the midst of packing up his things at the office, which he was in the process of selling, when he got a phone call. It was from Philip Peterson, who hadn’t called since his last visit.
“What?”
“Please…” He whispered, as if he was afraid someone might hear, “They’re everywhere… I can’t leave.”
It wasn’t the horrified tone of the man’s voice, it wasn’t the persistence of his calls, and it wasn’t the cascading shit show that his life had been, it was what James heard in the background. It made his blood curdle. Little clickings and crawlings of millions of legs. He heard them, he knew what they were.
“Mr. Peterson, I’m sorry - ”
“Don’t you dare! I need someone.”
“I was saying sorry for how I acted, I’m on my way now.”
***
It was raining outside. The look of rage on James’ face was enough to let Philip know he meant business. Instead of his equipment he had but one solitary sledge hammer in his hands. Philip Peterson looked back up at him and was flummoxed.
“I knew you were coming.”
“How?” James asked.
“They left the house.”
“Where’d they go?”
The shadow of a defeated man in the rain shrugged.
“There’s an extra hammer in the truck.”
While the disheveled Mr. Peterson left to retrieve his own hammer, James entered through the front door and looked around. The house was no different than when he’d seen it last. There was no evidence of any infestation whatsoever. This could, and likely was, all in his head. But he didn’t care. This ended tonight.
He heard the front door shut behind him, and lock. The hairs on the back of his head stood up, he turned to look at this man whom he chose to help, and saw a strange look in his eye.
“Why?”
“Can’t leave.” He said, his eyes alive with sadness and despair, “Please, we have to hurry.”
James stared at him for a second, and felt for this man. Whatever cruel twist of fate had befallen these two, they were in it together now, through thick and thin. “Are the other doors locked?”
Mr. Peterson nodded forlornly.
Without warning, James brought the hammer up, and down against the wall. He was short, but he was strong. The metal imbedded itself into the drywall with a thud, and cracks shot out from where he’d hit. He yanked the hammer out, sending rubble all around him, before bringing the hammer down again. The wall was taking a beating the likes of which he’d never given, he was so caught up in it all that he hadn’t noticed Philip doing the same. They pummeled the walls together, tearing out drywall and plaster. He half expected the walls to be moving, alive with a symphony of bugs and creepy crawlies. However, no such luck.
Turning around, Mr. Peterson had begun working on the floor. He was old, slow, methodical, but effective. Every hit that landed was like two of James’. Like he had the power of a thousand behind him. The two shared a knowing look, and James headed upstairs. The hammer tore about ceilings, walls, and floors alike. He was glad he’d worn his steel toed boots, because every room was a health hazard to walk out of. Just as he stumbled from the bedroom, bits of dry wall and floorboards following him out, he saw Mr. Peterson. The man was in the bathroom, staring up at the window.. Tiles lay in ruin around him, and the sink was gushing water from where it had been in the wall.
“Mr. Peterson? Philip?”
“Yes James?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He said and turned with a smile, it was the first time James had seen him smile, “Look.”
James walked over, cautiously. He felt fear building in him, what would this smiling freak see that made him so happy. Would there be millions of them? Forming together to eat them both? He arrived at the bathroom and saw what he’d seen. What luck they had, a fly. No, two flies. But the luck was dwindling, they weren’t moving.
“There’s bugs, that’s good right?” Mr. Peterson asked. He eyed them up, they were attached to the stainless window like they’d been glued there. They were real flies, but it looked staged, “Yes…” James said.
“What fun.” Mr. Peterson said with that creepy smile of his. Maybe he was crazy, maybe this was all bullshit. His mental state was clearly declining, what was the point of all this? If he left now, Mr. Peterson would throw a fit and freak out, but at least this would be behind him. Would it be? Would Philip Peterson leave James alone if he walked out right now? Probably not.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Two floors, no results. No matter, house centipedes liked cool, wet areas. Like basements. They descended into the unfinished underground area and proceeded to tear it apart. Using crowbars and flashlights to scrape and investigate every corner of the basement. Not a fly, not an ant, not a mouse, the only living things in the house were the two breathless and sweaty men. That was something that was starting to bother the soon to be unemployed exterminator the most. Every house has bugs. Spiders, moths, something. This might be the first house he had ever turned upside down this much that didn’t have a single insect in it.
“It’ll be an itch you can never scratch…”
“What?” Mr. Peterson asked, shaking James out of a daze.
“Nothing.”
“Well… what are you going to do?” The smile was definitively gone. Mr. Peterson was back in the real world.
“I’m going to do one good thing in my life, if it’s the last thing I do.” James replied, turning to the man whom lived in this madhouse, “Philip, get the fuck out of here.”
“Wh-what?”
“Leave, you ingrate.” He stomped his foot, and pushed him, “Don’t stay here! Just take what you can, or nothing, and leave.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Why?! WHY?!” James grabbed the man by the shoulders, and began to shake him. He saw it come out of his mouth, just one, but one bigger than he’d ever seen. One the size of a hand. It fell to the floor between them, and scuttled back up Mr. Peterson’s pant leg. James stared back at the man in awe, he saw the tiny legs moving in the iris of his eyes.
“Because,” more began to fall from his mouth, “They won’t let me…” James screamed, slapping them off of him, he could feel them trying to burrow under his clothes, “Not without you first.”
They poured from Mr. Peterson’s clothes and mouth. His ears and his eyes and his nose, he deflated as the mass of centipedes advanced on James, he screamed and screamed. That gave them a window, and they crawled into his mouth by the dozens. He felt thousands of little legs dance across his tongue and gums and down his throat. He began to claw at his neck ferociously to no avail. It really was an itch he couldn’t scratch.
***
Claire stared at the house where her and her husband had lived just days ago. The sadness in her heart was too much to bear. She walked to the front door and unlocked it with her key, before sitting down in the couch and collecting herself before he got home. She just had to talk to him one last time, she had to see him, see if they could repair things. The thought of what he had been through, the stress of the business, maybe it made him weak, just enough to cheat on her.
All of her friends told her she shouldn’t talk to him. That he was a lost cause, she would never be able to trust him again. In the end, she couldn’t help herself, she had to talk to her husband. She craved his voice, his touch, his smell. Maybe she couldn’t live without him, maybe it was a lost cause, but she would be a lost cause with him. She could always leave again, right? What difference did it make if she tried to stick it out for a few weeks after this horrible thing he did. That girl… so much younger…
She had to distract herself, had to take her mind off it. The TV was on in a flash, and with no other lights on in the house, it illuminated the room in a blue hue. She bit her nails, trying her best to not imagine what her body looked like. What she might have that was better than her, what was it? Bigger tits? Smaller hips? Claire couldn’t take it, she turned the volume up on the TV. Over time, she found herself engrossed in what was on, and finally distracted herself. That was when the door slammed shut.
James looked as though he’d seen a ghost, he was pale and his eyes were wide. He looked frightened, and was staring down the hallway. Staring at nothing, totally inside his head, she decided to say something first, “Honey?”
His head whipped toward her, he must not have seen her, “Claire?”
“Can we talk?” She asked softly, muting the television.
Without a word, he walked over, somewhat strangely, and sat down on the couch. The light from the television reflected in his eyes. It was the strangest thing. Those eyes she loved so much, that made her feel so happy before. She couldn’t quite place it, it’s like he was looking at her but didn’t see her. Just in her direction, not exactly at her. His eyes reminded her of a a fish’s after it had been hung on a plaque.
“Are you okay?”
He smirked, “I’m great.”
“You don’t seem great.” She said, his leg was shaking up and down erratically. Like he was anxious to get this over with, was this a mistake?
“I’m just tired… Claire.” Why did he keep saying her name like that? He usually called her a cutesy nickname or something, maybe everything was over in his head. Maybe it was better to just let the chips fall where they may, “Tired of everything, tired of running around. I’m so sick of running, I just want to stop and relax. Do you have any idea what it’s like? To constantly be on the move? Running from everyone bigger than you?”
“What are you talking about?” She stared at him, he certainly wasn’t looking at her, was he looking behind her?
“Oh nothing my sweet,” He tapped her hand lightly, unsure of himself, maybe he was nervous. Something else bothered her though, his fingers, they’re… cold.
“But… aren’t you sad?”
“Why would I be sad?”
“Because… I… I left you!” She felt the anger rising in her chest, this was a mistake, her friends were right.
“Oh yeah…” He looked off, she was baffled. Everything else faded away. Had he forgotten?
“You know what James,” She stood up, walking to the door, “If you’re gonna act like this, I’m leaving.”
Claire was done, she was fed up. This man was going to be out out of her life forever. She pulled her keys from the purse and opened the door. She unlocked her car from the porch and a steel like grip wound itself around her wrist, she whirled to see him standing there, staring at her again. Staring at her in that strange way. It was something so small, almost imperceptible, but it looked like… no, I’m crazy.
“Please, don’t go, not yet.” He said quickly. Maybe she wasn’t crazy. His right eye… it looked like it wasn’t centered with his left. Right before she had turned around, it appeared to quickly adjust with the other one. Almost as if he was working to keep the eyes in the same direction, like they were operated separately. Something besides anger was swelling within her. Fear.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, he hadn’t made a single noise from the couch to her. Not a peep, they had no carpeting, she would have heard him follow her. What was happening?
“Nothing, please, come inside, I want to talk.” He said, “I’m just so upset, I miss you so much.”
She noticed the dirt and rubble on his coat now, the dust on his boots, “Where were you?”
“I was at Mr. Peterson’s house,” He said, with that fucking smile, “Helping him out.”
“I thought…” His jaw hung at a strange angle too, this wasn’t okay, something was very wrong. “I thought you weren’t gonna help him.”
“Pff.” James laughed, “It’s just bugs.”
“Just bugs?” She stared at him incredulously. She was outside the house before she would have to fight him. He never crossed the threshold of the doorway, he just watched as she backed away, inching toward her car, “You… you hate bugs.”
“Yeah, but… you know how much I love centipedes.”
***
The phone was ringing off the hook, Gary would have to hire a new receptionist if this ditzy one kept wandering off. She bragged to everyone that she banged her previous boss and didn’t have to work at all. But no one really saw that as a good thing except her. Now, as the owner of the most successful extermination company in Pittsburgh, Gary was answering his own phones. Something he had hoped to avoid with the three receptionists he had been paying. Evidently for nothing.
“This is Experterminators what can I help you with today?” He asked quickly, hoping this dumb receptionist would return so he could give her the phone.
“Is this Gary Monoghan? Owner of Experterminators?” The voice asked, it sounded stressed.
“Yes it is, may I - ”
“Please! You have to help me, they’re everywhere, I need you! I’ve tried everywhere else and they can’t fix it.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, please, calm down. Tell me your name and the pest you’re dealing with.”
“Centipedes you fool!” The voice shouted, “They’re invading my home, my wife, Claire, she left me because of them! I’m all by myself in this house!”
“Okay… okay, relax sir, I’m here to help. What’s your name? Really? Wow. Didn’t you run Exterminex?”