All Parts

It was Christmastime again. Work went long for the third day in a row and, honestly, I wasn’t feeling in the Christmas mood. But, Town Hall was having its annual Christmas party and as the mayor, I had to go to it.

I always dreaded the Secret Santa gift exchange. At the beginning of December, we all got little notes with one other person’s name at City Hall. I got Kris in H.R.

So there I was, twenty minutes before the party at the SuperMart buying a bottle of wine for Kris. She was an alcoholic—I was sure of it. A bottle of Moscato would do just fine.

I grabbed the first reasonably priced bottle and headed over to the checkout line, which was packed. I got into the shortest line I could find. But of course, it was the wrong one. The line crawled. I was going to be late for sure.

In front of me stood a little boy. He was holding a pair of shoes. His clothes were ratty, and he was filthy from head to toe.

When he got to the checkout, I couldn’t believe what I heard him say.

“Sir, I’d like to buy these shoes for my mama. Could you hurry, though? Daddy says there’s not much time. I want her to look beautiful when—”

The cashier cut him off.

“Hand them here, kid.”

The boy passed the shoebox to the cashier.

Beep went the register.

“That will be forty-seven dollars and ninety-two cents.”

The boy fished through his pockets for what felt like an eternity.

I’m so late.

He handed the money to the cashier in a big wad. After straightening and counting the bills, the cashier sighed.

“There’s not enough here. You need twenty dollars more.”

He fished through his pockets some more.

I tapped my foot in annoyance.

Finally, he gave up. And he turned to me.

“Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my mama, please. I want her to look beautiful when mama—”

I should have done something kind that day. I know…

But I was in a hurry and in a bad mood. So, with a shrug and a “Sorry, little guy,” I stepped past him and handed my bottle of wine to the cashier and got out of there.

I got to the party twenty minutes late and received all the flack for it I had expected.

Linda from community services was the worst. She made a B-Line to me, mouth full of crackers and cheese, just to say, “Glad you found the time to spend with the little people, Mr. Mayor.”

I wish I could fire her.

I suffered through the party and got my tie from my Secret Santa (it’s always a tie) and hurried off to my car. As I rushed through the cold, I caught something moving by the bushes on the other side of the parking lot.

I shook my head and squinted. But it was gone.

I could have sworn it was that kid from the grocery store.

Finally, I was home. I took a shower, watched a little TV and got into my bed, happy that the day was over.

A sound downstairs ripped me from the cusp of sleep. It was subtle, like tiny footsteps. I heard another sound—the front door unlocking and opening.

Then nothing.

I sat up in bed

A child’s voice broke the silence.

“Mama. He’s here, Mama! He’s upstairs!”

More tiny footsteps, through the living room and up the stairs.

“This is a private residence!” I yelled. “Leave now! I’m armed!”

A lie.

The footsteps drew louder as I reached for my phone on the bedside table to call 911.

Fumbling with the phone, I got as far as dialing the numbers, but didn’t even press call before the intruder was at my bedroom door.

The first thing I saw was a head. Some momentary relief passed over me. It was a woman. Not a pretty woman—long matted black hair passed over her pale face. I met her large, round eyes set back in her head as she peered around the doorframe.

“What do you want?” I asked. A touch more confident. “Get out of here!”

But then the rest of it came into view.

The head and shoulders… then legs. Two… four… six… they just kept coming. Smaller than human legs, but the same shape, carried an elongated torso into my bedroom. This centipede covered in human flesh was completely naked aside from a pair of shoes on each set of legs, save one—conspicuously barefoot.

Following close behind came the boy from the grocery store.

“There he is, Mama!” he said, pointing at me.

I stammered and stuttered, my breath catching in my chest.

“Go away!” I croaked.

But my protests were ignored.

“Do you like him, Mama?” the child asked, beaming at the creature before me.

“He’s perfect, my son,” she said. Her voice was soft; breathy, with a slight rasp.

She drew closer. I jumped out of bed and ran to the back of the room. But I was cornered.

With startling speed, the creature leapt over the bed and pinned me to the ground.

I struggled through a maze of hands and feet until I felt something sharp enter my side.

The creature backed away as my body grew numb. I tried to stand, but each passing second made movement more difficult. Soon I lay on the floor paralyzed, unable to move anything but my eyes.

She dragged my body into the center of the room as the little boy turned on the light.

I wish he hadn’t. I would have preferred not to see what happened next.

The creature stood over me, so that its long fleshy torso was only inches from my own. Then something moved.

Its flesh parted and something long and sharp protruded from its body. The thing lowered itself until the tip pierced my skin just below my navel.

I couldn’t move, but I could still feel. And it felt just like you’d think it would—like being stabbed.

The creature’s underside began to pulse as small, round bulges passed into my abdomen.

I stared at this process for a minute or more, watching my stomach bloat with whatever was being injected into me.

Finally, the creature lifted its body and looked down at me, surveying its work.

“All done, Mama?” the boy asked.

“All done. We can leave now.”

“Will the babies be okay, Mama?”

“Don’t worry, they will hatch before the paralysis wears off.”

The creature left the room, but the little boy remained—staring at me.

“I wanted her to look beautiful when Mama laid her eggs tonight.”

I won't make you suffer through what the next 24 hours looked like. But suffice it to say, any day where dozens of humanid centipedes emerge from your abdomen is going to to be pretty awful.

I thought about reporting the incident to the police, but thought better of it. It wouldn't look good for re-election if it got out that I didn't buy the stupid shoes.