Skin Crawls

The cold was the worst; it gave her shivers and sent a little tingle down her back. That was why she always had to curl herself up tightly in blankets and sweaters, just to fight off the chill that wanted to bite at her sensitive skin. She dreaded having her skin crawl.

Like just the other day, as the days were growing shorter and colder, she opened the window to the kitchen to let in some fresh air only to be met with a terrible chill; the fresh morning air filled her senses, clear and crisp, but it made her skin crawl.

God damn it.

Her skin cracked open, peeling away like wallpaper from the muscle and flesh. All of the skin from her exposed arms and face leaped straight off her bone, falling to the ground in a bloody pulp with a wet “thump”. The lumps crawled across the kitchen floor like slugs. They cowered in every nook and cranny, trying to find some relief from the chill that had forced them to crawl away in the first place.

The girl groaned; her arms were left as only bones, her eyeballs bulged within their sockets in her lonely, skinless face.

She hated having to catch her runaway skin.