# The Uninvited

Author: firefox_b
Tags: Flash Fiction, Horror, M/M, Supernatural

A paranormal/supernatural/horror offering, preying upon our distaste for creepy-crawlies and based upon embellishment of a dream I had...

_ **The Uninvited** _  
  
At the busy airport in the capital city of Carjackistan, I saw the American traveler ahead of   
  
me inadvertently bump into an older native gentleman.  "Oops, sorry!," offered my countryman   
  
apologetically.  

The foreign man wheeled about, a look of profound displeasure on his face.  He glared at the   
  
American for a moment, and I feared that I was about to witness an ugly confrontation.  Then   
  
the older man's expression softened inexplicably, and he spoke a few words in heavily   
  
accented English.  "It was nothing, an accident, yes?," said the small older man.  Reaching   
  
into his pocket, the native man extracted a folded piece of paper and a small envelope,   
  
offering them to the American.  "Please to take this, an offering of good will," said the old   
  
man in broken English.  "It is a gift, it will make your life...interesting," the small   
  
figure said softly, the trace of a dark smile crossing his countenance.

I saw the American take the slip of paper and envelope with a nod, and stuff them hastily   
  
into his pocket.  It was perhaps wise, I thought, to agree and go along with the offering of

 the old man rather than risk further offense.  The American then walked briskly to the   
  
boarding gateway for his flight as so did I, apparently bound for the same destination.  It   
  
turned out that we would share adjoining seats in the same row.  We buckled ourselves in as   
  
instructed by the flight attendants, the jet taxied down the runway, and soon we were   
  
airborne.  I must confess that I was not unhappy to be leaving Carjackistan.

Looking downwards at the clouds from comfortable seats, I introduced myself to my countryman   
  
and fellow traveler.  "My name's David Talbot," I said to my seatmate, offering my hand to   
  
him.

As he shook my extended hand, I felt my psychic senses tingle.  "I'm Bret Farraday," he said   
  
genially.  "Did you happen to see the creepy old man that I accidentally bumped into at the   
  
airport?," he asked.

I nodded in the affirmative.  My flight companion moved his hand to his pocket where he   
  
extracted the folded paper and envelope that I had seen him take from the old man.  "He gave   
  
me this," said Bret, opening up the folded paper where I could see it.  The paper was covered

 with an incomprehensible array of symbols, with some text also written on it in an unknown   
  
foreign language.  I was instantly troubled by a nagging sense that I had somewhere seen   
  
something like this before, and that it had been followed by trouble.

"Makes no sense to me," said Bret, crumpling the paper before I could examine it thoroughly,  
  
and stuffing it back into his pocket.  "Well, let's see what prize the old coot gave me in   
  
this little envelope," he said tearing it open before I could caution him otherwise.

To the untrained eye, the envelope held nothing.  "What the hell?," wondered Bret, "The damn   
  
thing's empty!"  Unlike Bret, however, my third eye could see something small, pale, and   
  
almost transparent perhaps an inch long swiftly scurry out of the envelope and up my   
  
companion's arm.  While he could see nothing, almost immediately the man felt something, and   
  
began scratching.

I watched a small bulge move under the fabric of my companion's shirt as he itched   
  
frantically and compulsively at the path taken by the thing.  The almost invisible creature

 emerged again at the cuff of his opposite sleeve, where I noticed with alarm that it was now   
  
almost twice its original size; the thing looked like a cross between a centipede and   
  
something that crawled along the ocean's bottom.  I was filled with feelings of disgust and   
  
revulsion.  Small chittering sounds emerged from the creature which were audible to my ears   
  
but not to his.  Again the worm-like thing turned and disappeared beneath Bret's shirt cloth,   
  
moving in a new and terrible direction.

My companion clawed at his flesh now, feeling the progression of a myriad of tiny jointed   
  
feet which he could neither see nor touch.  "What's wrong with me?!," he cried in   
  
desperation.  The small flight crew was beginning to hear Bret's agitation, but like himself,   
  
could see nothing.  I waved them away with my hand as if to say that I had this situation   
  
covered.  "He's just a little nervous!," I said to them reassuringly.  
  
  
"Be silent and still!," I admonished my companion, my eyes never leaving the track of the   
  
unspeakable thing as it progressed inexorably towards Bret's head.  In a moment I saw the

 thing emerge at the man's collar, now more than three times its original size.  I saw   
  
transparent mandibles, compound eyes, and countless joined legs.  Knowing I had to do   
  
something quickly, I lunged at the creature, snatching it despite its resistance and pulling   
  
it from my companion's neck.  The foul thing twisted and writhed between my fingers, but I   
  
held it tightly in my grip.  High-pitched squealing sounds emitted from whatever orifice   
  
passed for its mouth.  Countless loathsome legs flailed in the air, seeking purchase in vain.  
  
Holding tightly to the chittering creature, I brought it to the floor and stomped it under my   
  
heel.  Some kind of thick disgusting clear fluid gushed out of the ruined body, but still its   
  
revolting legs flailed.  I stomped it again hard with the full sole of my shoe, and yet again   
  
a third time.  Finally, it was still to move no more.

My companion stared at me uncomprehending, his eyes big as saucers.  "I don't know what just   
  
happened," he said breathlessly, "but I do know that you've just saved me from something,

 something terrible, something that the old foreign man at the airport somehow inflicted upon   
  
me..."

I nodded at the man, noticing two small punctures on his neck where the creature was about to   
  
burrow inside his skin. --Would it have tunneled into his flesh, causing a torturous death?    
  
Or would it have attached itself to his brain stem, in some manner taking him over?    
  
Thankfully, we'll never know.

"I don't fully understand either what you ran afoul of at the airport," I told Bret softly.   
  
"But you apparently offended and incurred the wrath of some kind of dark entity."  We talked   
  
much about that for the remainder of the flight about dimensions existing outside of the   
  
realm of regular human senses, the existence of things there which we don't want intruding   
  
into our dimension, and how, when such things _do_ push through, there are those such as myself   
  
present who push back. 

As we exited the plane and prepared to go our separate ways, Bret looked at me and said,   
  
"That's very interesting, David, but I'm not sure that I believe you.  I think that I may

 just have had a psychotic episode of some kind on the plane or perhaps a reaction to my   
  
medication, one which you talked me through."  

I shook Bret's hand. "Believe what you want to, my friend," I told him.  "But it's a universe   
  
of almost infinite possibilities, and there is more in heaven and Earth than is accounted for   
  
by your philosophies."

As proof of that, I unclouded the man's mind as I walked away to allow him to see my fox   
  
tail, one which, forgive my vanity, I am rather proud of... 

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Vm2EavGe