Trish roused from a deep sleep, her body lethargic, heavy, and so, so tired. She wanted to roll to her other side off her aching hip and fall back into blissful unconsciousness but couldn’t summon the energy to do so. As she was slipping back beneath the veil of sleep, her full-to-bursting bladder spasmed—shouldn’t have drunk that fourth Margarita.
With a sigh, she threw back the covers and made her way to the bathroom. While sitting on the toilet, Trish became aware of a bone-deep aching in the muscles of her arms and legs, the weighty feel of them. She’d have to make an appointment with Dr. Lane soon if whatever was going on with her body didn’t improve. It didn’t seem right having perpetually sore, tired muscles when she sat at a desk all day. And it was interfering with her life. Last night, she hadn’t danced—hadn’t for a long time—when she and Logan met for drinks at Yancey’s Bar and Grill. She was always too tired for that anymore.
She flushed, returned to her warm bed, and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
And came awake with a start.
Trish felt things, some things, crawling over her scalp, her arms and legs, and even something wriggling inside her vagina. Screeching, she sat up, reached for the lamp, clicked it on.
Her screech turned into a wail of terror when she saw numerous thin wires piercing her body (in places, through her short gown), and she tracked the wires upward where they met in the center of the ceiling fan and disappeared inside.Continue reading “Feeding”