Disgusting Little Creatures

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/2xCAmwk

An uncomfortable foreword

It has been said that a series of short stories must emanate unexpectedness and a sense of chilling surprise. Such a collection of stories would require a character framework that is present throughout the whole book; from tale to tale, offering the reader a chance to relate to the individual characters — their pain, their horror, their paranoia. Such a collation would also contain an underlying subplot, so all of the stories connect and relate to one another, in a weblike manner, allowing each entry to follow on from the last with some continuity, while still retaining individuality.

I gave this some thought and decided to do the complete opposite. For me, each story should be read as an individual tale of terror, and certainly not as a collective.

Each of my short stories should evoke thought, emotion, and hopefully, leaves the reader wondering what the hell happens next. Let’s face it; not everyone looks for a happy ending in the stories they read. With this in mind, let your imaginations run wild, and enjoy the unpredictability; often an uncomfortable ride.

Disgusting Little Creatures

Mr Simon Greenoak and his team sat down and had one final look at their map, in a vain attempt to try and find a way back to the nearest village. They thought that they were only about five miles away, but it was through the thick jungle, so they knew it wouldn’t be easy. The crew had been on a special, two-month exhibition into one of the last unmapped territories, in an area of virgin jungle, found in the DRC, The Democratic Republic of Congo, in Central Africa. Commissioned by the National Geographic Society, the goal of the expedition was to investigate and document all the wildlife in an old volcanic crater. The planned excursion was going to be pioneering work for the society, and expectations about discovering new species were high, knowing that no man had ever studied the wildlife there before.

Everything so far had gone to plan, albeit a few little hick-ups with equipment and the guides; it had all gone to plan up until a few days ago. Simon, the team’s leader, had indeed been ‘pulling the wool’ over everyone’s eyes, as they all stopped; letting him take the opportunity to make an announcement. Out of the blue, amongst the surrounding dense jungle, he reluctantly declared to his fellow scientists that they were completely and utterly lost. The entire leading figure attitude, done with high competence, utilising years of so-called experience, had all been fake, to a certain extent. Unknown to his team, he had convinced himself (as the appointed leader) that he knew exactly where they were, where they were going and how long it would take them all. Regular checking of the GPS and the map had all been a lie, as he led them all deeper and further into the unknown. All the equipment was packed up, carried by the men they’d hired in town alongside the party of scientists; it took three days solid through thick, uncomfortable, and humid jungle. No one had even considered that their leader was a con, as he spoke and acted with such confidence, having spent many years in the DRC working closely with the University of Kinshasa’s Natural History’s department.

They were all hot, bothered and fed up, never seemingly gaining any ground. It was when the group crossed paths with a couple of local tribesmen out hunting that the truth came to light. After some un-orthodox persuasion, the men finally agreed to help steer them in the right direction, but only if the price was right. It was at that point when Simon made good with his confession, aggravating and upsetting everyone present. The hunters pointed them in the right direction, giving rough guidelines to follow as best they could. After angry exchanges, the group were now quick to get up, all eager to get back and away from their so-called leader. With a certain amount of confidence, they set off again, still heading into the unknown but now with an inclination of the direction they needed to take. After blood, sweat, tears, bites and extreme exhaustion and dehydration, they found themselves a few hours later at a clearing in the jungle, which they planned to set up camp for the night. Anger and resentment continued to thrive amongst the team, as they set up camp. They still had a day or two to go until they reached the village; they still needed to work together, as a team, if they were to get back safely. They were reluctant to follow Simon, but it was always his mission, and he was the one that had bought them all together.

A few days later, after the expedition team eventually arrived back home to England, the crew’s appreciation for being back home was enormous, as the plane touched down onto home soil. Simon gave a closing speech, stating just how appreciative he had been for they’re help and knowledge, boasting that they had all achieved an outstanding task. Everyone was pleased to be home, with everyone yearning for their missed home comforts, family, and friends. The jungle had been a fantastic experience, with lots of discoveries, but tainted by Simon’s inept ability to lead correctly.

With a wealth of video footage, DNA samples and thousands of static photographs, there was still a lot of work to be done. Even though he as home, Simon knew that he’d be spending the next few days working intensively in his lab, for no doubt all hours of the day, processing all the media files that they had accumulated over the past few weeks. The volume of work to come didn’t appeal to him that much.

The first thing he did when he arrived back at his big old Elizabethan house, was to place all the valuable footage, memory cards and external storage devices into his lock-up before his stress faded, allowing him to relax for the evening. He resided in a large country house all alone, so he made no effort on that first night to keep his things tidy or organised, which was contrary to his usual behaviour, given any other day of the week. Once he’d soaked in a hot steaming bath, he finally got to sit down, all clean and finally sorted, grabbing a cheeky glass of whisky on his way.

He switched on the TV, sinking deep into his big reclining chair, preparing himself for the evening ahead. Not surprisingly, he felt exhausted after a ten and half hour flight, so it wasn’t long before he found it unbearably challenging to keep his eyes open. His bed was calling, and the prospects of getting all snug and warm were something that he couldn’t shake off. He held back for a long as he could, mainly as it was still early, but he eventually succumbed to his tiredness and went to bed for the night. As he got to his feet, it was only then that he realised that he had a nasty little headache rippling through his skull. The pain seemed to stem from the front of his head, especially around the back of his eyes. For a moment, he placed his hand on his forehead, in a vain attempt to ease the pain. He then drank the rest of his drink, before slowly walking off towards his bedroom, trying to ignore it. As he lay there, in his quiet, tranquil place of rest, deep in thought for a few minutes; the memories of the past few weeks in the jungle, slowly unravelled and he relived his recent journeys. The strength of the alcohol and his extreme exhaustion overpowered him, as sleep encroached upon him with much haste. He concluded that the pain in his head was just eye strain from watching TV, so he tried to forget about it and slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

The next morning, he woke to the pain still present in the front of his head. A headache was still there, but not as bad as the night before. It had somewhat subsided and almost gone, so he rose to his usual routine. It wasn’t until a few hours later, around lunchtime, when he accidentally found a small lump on his scalp. On the top of his head, right in the middle of his scalp, a little red bump appeared. It didn’t seem much to look at, but it felt painfully and sore to touch. In his bathroom, he inspected himself in the mirror, moving his hair out of the way to look — He found a small red raised lump which resembled a delible and significant spot. Using his fingers to examine it, he concluded that he didn’t think it was anything special, so he gave up his examination and forgot about it. For the rest of the day, he just carried on working in the lab, aware it was there, but ignoring it as best he could.

Over the following three days, a similar pattern emerged most evenings. When bedtime arrived, before he brushed his teeth; he would then inspect his head, as he always seemed to have a headache at the same time, in the evenings before bed. He noticed that the lump was growing, but at a languid pace, so he knew that he’d have to address the problem soon, but for now, he was just too busy to fit a doctors appointment into his schedule.

That is, until two days after, when he awoke to a surcharged level of pain, pulsating from the area of the spot. He immediately jumped out of bed in a mild panic, heading straight towards the bathroom. He parted his hair to reveal the spot or boil, the same size as it was before, except this morning, it had a set of strange red tendrils extending out in all directions across his scalp. He lifted his fingers to give it a prod, and although he touched it very gently, a severe pain ravished his head, reducing to his knees for a few moments. He knew that he had to get down the doctors without delay, so once the pain had gone, he got dressed, leaving for the local surgery with as little delay as possible. As he’d only just arrived back from darkest depths of Africa, he prioritised, jumping the queue ahead of the crowd. Simon felt that the doctor wasn’t much help. He examined him, being as gentle as he could, but concluded that it was an infected insect bite, which is why he was getting the pain. The doctor dosed him up with a mixture of Paracetamol and an antiseptic cream, which he had to apply three times daily. So with some reservations, and a little peace of mind, he left the surgery to go back home.

For the rest of the day, the spot throbbed a little, but it was bearable, so the order of work took control. As bedtime encroached, the same scenario came into play again. A headache returned on-queue, now quite severe and noticeably throbbing on the top of his head. It didn’t feel any better for the cream, but being sensible in the most part, he thought that he needed to give it a chance to work, at least for a day for two.

The pain now felt a little worse tonight, but sleep eventually got the better of him, especially with the help of Jim Beam. He lay there worrying about everything for a while, which in turn, was what probably what eventually sent him off to sleep.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, he woke up startled and screaming. He raised both hands and grabbed either side of his head; the pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His whole head throbbed madly, causing him real discomfort. The pain was so intense that he could hardly see anything, with both eyes unable to focus clearly. He then felt a warm, irritating sensation in both ears, accompanied by a strange ringing sound, which wouldn’t go away. He felt ill and dizzy, and he soon realised that all these symptoms that had been discovered, was before he’d even looked at his head. With trepidation, he went to the mirror, slowly parting his hair. Even with the slightest of touch, the pain screamed out in all directions, as his body bent over in a strange and severe spasm of pain. He stood tall and looked; the spot had grown significantly. It looked angry, and pulsed, like something out of a horror movie. The fear of dread slowly spread, as he just stood there staring at himself. He grabbed his Paracetamol box, pulling out five tablets which he took in one go, desperately wanted to ease the pain.

He sat on the edge of his bed, feeling rough; his hand slowly began to investigate the new landscape on his scalp again, in a gentle and caressing way, subtly feeling for every little lump and bump to be found. Suddenly, as his fingers moved around his scalp and through his hair, a bolt of pain, accompanied by a severe bout of fear plummeted right through his soul, as he swore-blind that he felt something move up there. He quickly pulled his hand away, but as the seconds then passed; his intrigue soon forced his hand back up again, for the investigation simply had to continue. Worry and un-natural speculation kicked in, only to be side-tracked by another area of his head, which also didn’t right. Another area of his scalp, just above his right ear, really felt quite strange; for some reason, unlike anywhere else on his head, he could no longer feel any bone, almost as if part of his skull had just vanished. It felt bizarre, quite numb, in a very peculiar way, it felt soft and fragile. He carefully and gently probed it. As he touched it, he gently pushed it, just to see what would happen. He gently pushed the skin down deep into his head, forcing it so far that he suddenly felt a peculiar and unsettling feeling throughout his body, which momentarily made him collapse. It didn’t hurt, and if anything the opposite had happened, but as soon as he came around, he put his hand straight back up there, to continue feeling his head. He went straight back to the same area; but upon arrival, he quickly yanked his hand away, as he was sure that he again felt something move. This time it wasn’t inside the boil; it was in the hole where his skull should have been, which just scared him more so than before. The more he probed, the worse things got, as the swelling on the first wound, the boil, seemed to grow even more prominent, when he touched the side of his head. A headache returned and slowly increased in intensity. His eyes were now starting to become freakish, and the red swelling that had spread from the initial lump on his head had now become so big, that it was beginning to converge upon to the top of his forehead. A raised layer of dark red skin slowly started to move down all sides of his head, gradually lowering down his face, towards his eyebrows. For reasons only known to him, he couldn’t stop touching the boil; he started to push and probe his head until he was adamant that things were moving about inside his skull. Within the seconds that followed, his decision to keep touching, it took a turn for the worse. With a mild form of blindness, the ringing in his ears and pain streaking around his head and body, he felt himself getting dizzy as if he was going to pass out. With his hands still on his scalp, he then fell onto his side, laying on his bed, screaming in sheer agony. In the minutes that followed, the unthinkable happened.

The swelling started to grow before it finally erupted. A foul, disgusting smell, frankly offensive to anyone, exploded across the whole of the bed. Passed out and collapsed, the creatures exploded out with force, spraying themselves across his pillow and headrest. Then, without mercy, other larvae type creatures began escaping through every opening available; through his eye sockets, ear holes, nostrils, and mouth. As the insects exited his body, they slowly began to smother him; his bed became a wash of red and cream coloured liquid, quickly filling the bedsheets with millions of small jet black wriggling creatures. The remnants of Simon laid there dead, as the larvae or whatever they were, spent the next few hours feasting on the remains of his body, uninterrupted in a non-stop feast. His bedroom gradually filled with a horrendous foul-smelling stench, which forced the windows to steam up from the inside. With an unlimited food source, the creatures grew at an incredible rate, as they started to morph into a strange, never before seen type of flying insect. Simon’s great African adventure ended in a disgustingly horrible nightmare. His body supplied the necessary food source to spawn a whole new species, unknown to entomologists. Unintentionally, Simon contaminated the UK, causing great havoc and mayhem across the entire country, which in turn, created thousands of deaths and untold destruction.

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/2xCAmwk