# "My Wife Always Asked Me If Id Love Her If She Were a Bug" Creepypasta

An episode of [CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1492008134), 25 Apr 2025, 45 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/65700101/my_wife_always_asked_me_if_id_love_her_if_she_were_a_bug_creepypasta.mp3

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## Transcript

[0:02] Speaker 1: My wife always asked me if I would love her
[0:04] Speaker 1: if she was a worm, or an animal, or even
[0:07] Speaker 1: a bug. I'd never given that question much thought. I
[0:13] Speaker 1: used to laugh when she said it, thinking it was
[0:15] Speaker 1: one of those harmless, hypothetical things that people in love
[0:19] Speaker 1: say when they're trying to be cute. I always told her, yes,
[0:24] Speaker 1: of course I would. She tilted her head, squint at
[0:29] Speaker 1: me for a second, then nod satisfied, and move on
[0:33] Speaker 1: to something else. I loved her, not the kind of loud,
[0:40] Speaker 1: fiery love that burns itself out or tries to prove
[0:44] Speaker 1: something to everyone else. I loved her in the way
[0:47] Speaker 1: you love your own breath, something you don't even think
[0:50] Speaker 1: about most of the time, but couldn't survive without. She
[0:55] Speaker 1: made the world feel less sharp and hostile. She had
[0:59] Speaker 1: this way of looking at everything that made it seem
[1:02] Speaker 1: more alive, even when she was dead quiet. Just sitting
[1:06] Speaker 1: at the kitchen table with her tea and the crossword,
[1:10] Speaker 1: the room felt full. Her presence stretched into everything. She
[1:17] Speaker 1: had quirks, dozens of them. She refused to kill bugs
[1:22] Speaker 1: in the house, no matter how many legs they had.
[1:26] Speaker 1: She always had to sleep on the left side of
[1:28] Speaker 1: the bed, even in hotels. She whispered small apologies that
[1:33] Speaker 1: every tree we passed when we went hiking, even the
[1:36] Speaker 1: ones already dead. And she believed in things odd things,
[1:43] Speaker 1: not in a delusional way, but quietly personally, things she'd
[1:49] Speaker 1: never forced on anyone. She believed certain birds carried messages.
[1:55] Speaker 1: She believed in the number thirteen, not as unlucky but
[1:59] Speaker 1: sa And she believed in the protective power of a rosary.
[2:07] Speaker 1: She kept that rosary with her every single day. Not
[2:11] Speaker 1: once did I see her leave the house without it.
[2:14] Speaker 1: Sometimes she wore it tucked under a shirt. Sometimes she
[2:18] Speaker 1: looped it around a waist, but it was always there.
[2:23] Speaker 1: She never talked about why, at least not in detail.
[2:27] Speaker 1: I only knew that something had happened when she was young.
[2:31] Speaker 1: Her entire family died in a car accident when she
[2:34] Speaker 1: was fourteen. She was the only one who walked away
[2:37] Speaker 1: from the wreckage. After that, she changed, started being the
[2:43] Speaker 1: cautious woman I know today. Over time, I came to
[2:50] Speaker 1: accept that the rosary wasn't about faith. It was armor,
[2:56] Speaker 1: a thread she held on to so she wouldn't unravel.
[3:01] Speaker 1: I never questioned it. I didn't need to understand it
[3:05] Speaker 1: to respect it. She had been the one to suggest
[3:11] Speaker 1: the retreat. We talked about taking time off for months,
[3:15] Speaker 1: letting the world blur behind us for a little while,
[3:19] Speaker 1: But it never went beyond the idea. Something always came up, work, errands,
[3:26] Speaker 1: people needing things. That autumn she brought it up again,
[3:33] Speaker 1: only this time with dates already circled on the calendar.
[3:38] Speaker 1: She said she'd found a place, a cabin deep in
[3:41] Speaker 1: the woods, just the kind of esthetic she liked. She
[3:46] Speaker 1: told me she wanted to feel air that hadn't passed
[3:49] Speaker 1: through events. She wanted the stillness of pine branches above her,
[3:54] Speaker 1: the smell of wood smoke in her hair, the strange
[3:57] Speaker 1: quiet that came from being far from any one else.
[4:02] Speaker 1: I said yes, without even asking to see the place.
[4:07] Speaker 1: When she showed me the photos later, it looked like
[4:10] Speaker 1: the place would be cold, no matter how hard you
[4:13] Speaker 1: try to warm it up. The walls were narrow, the
[4:17] Speaker 1: windows small. There was a tiny dock jotting out over
[4:22] Speaker 1: a dark little lake behind the trees. She clapped when
[4:27] Speaker 1: I told her it was perfect. Before we left, she
[4:33] Speaker 1: made me promise i'd do the hiking trail with her.
[4:36] Speaker 1: I asked how long it was, and she waved the
[4:39] Speaker 1: question away, saying it didn't matter, that we'd figure it out.
[4:44] Speaker 1: Then she said something I'd think about every day after.
[4:50] Speaker 1: She said, once we get there, I won't want to
[4:55] Speaker 1: come back. We both laughed. She meant it as a joke,
[5:01] Speaker 1: obviously I laughed too, kissed her, and we packed our things.
[5:10] Speaker 1: The drive out took most of the day. As the
[5:13] Speaker 1: road narrowed and the trees grew thicker on either side
[5:17] Speaker 1: of the windshield, she grew quieter. She let her hand
[5:22] Speaker 1: dangle out of the window, her hair lifted in the wind.
[5:27] Speaker 1: The sun was soft through the glass. By the time
[5:31] Speaker 1: we pulled up the gravel road and saw the cabin
[5:34] Speaker 1: appear behind the trees, dusk had already settled. The porch
[5:39] Speaker 1: creaked under our feet, and the door stuck a little
[5:43] Speaker 1: before it opened, and there was the scent of old
[5:47] Speaker 1: dust and pine sap clinging to the walls. But the
[5:52] Speaker 1: place was warm, proving my assumption about it wrong. She
[5:58] Speaker 1: walked through it, slowly, brushing her hand along the furniture,
[6:02] Speaker 1: looking out each window like she was memorizing every view.
[6:07] Speaker 1: Then she kicked off her shoes, dropped into the old couch,
[6:12] Speaker 1: and sighed. That night, we lit a fire and sat
[6:18] Speaker 1: together on the floor in front of it. She fell
[6:22] Speaker 1: asleep first. Her breathing slowed until it matched the rhythm
[6:27] Speaker 1: of the wind brushing the roof, and I didn't sleep
[6:31] Speaker 1: for a long time. I stayed there beside her, watching
[6:35] Speaker 1: her face move through dreams. I watched the chest rise
[6:39] Speaker 1: and fall. Her hand was still holding mine. There was
[6:46] Speaker 1: a peace in that silence that I couldn't explain, and
[6:49] Speaker 1: I loved her more in that moment than I ever
[6:52] Speaker 1: had before. She looked weightless, as if the world outside
[6:57] Speaker 1: the trees had never existed at all. The next morning,
[7:04] Speaker 1: we started early, while the air still held a bite
[7:08] Speaker 1: from the night before. She wore her boots lace tight
[7:12] Speaker 1: and carried a canvas bag with water, a journal, and
[7:16] Speaker 1: a snack. She insisted we'd probably forget about the trailheads
[7:21] Speaker 1: sat behind the cabin, half covered in ferns, with no
[7:25] Speaker 1: marker beyond a splintered wooden post buried in the underbrush.
[7:30] Speaker 1: She led the way, moving with steady steps and a
[7:34] Speaker 1: small smile. I kept tugging at the corner of her mouth.
[7:39] Speaker 1: I followed close behind, watching her braid catch against the
[7:43] Speaker 1: shoulder strap of her bag. The trail wasn't easy. Roots
[7:50] Speaker 1: rose up from the soil and waited for ankles. The
[7:53] Speaker 1: incline grew steeper the further we went, winding around slopes
[7:58] Speaker 1: where fallen trees leaned together overhead. A stream accompanied us
[8:03] Speaker 1: after the first mile, thin at first, its surface broken
[8:08] Speaker 1: by pebbles and pale green leaves drifting without urgency. Sunlight
[8:13] Speaker 1: passed through the pine canopy in slow moving ribbons. It
[8:18] Speaker 1: stretched across her arms as she walked, weaving through branches
[8:21] Speaker 1: that dipped and bent under their own weight. Birds stirred occasionally,
[8:27] Speaker 1: but distant, one or two short calls, but nothing that lingered.
[8:33] Speaker 1: Moss gretled the sides of stones in patches that grew
[8:36] Speaker 1: thicker as we climbed. Some of it yellowed in the
[8:39] Speaker 1: way that made me think of old wounds instead of
[8:42] Speaker 1: new growth. We didn't speak much. There wasn't a need.
[8:49] Speaker 1: Her breathing was steady, and mind followed suit. Occasionally she'd
[8:55] Speaker 1: turned around just the check I was still behind her,
[8:58] Speaker 1: and we'd exchange a smile, then keep going. I don't
[9:04] Speaker 1: remember how long we walked. My legs had grown sore,
[9:08] Speaker 1: and the shadows had shifted enough that it was probably
[9:11] Speaker 1: close to midday, the stream had pulled away from the
[9:15] Speaker 1: path again when she stopped suddenly and tilted her head
[9:19] Speaker 1: to the left. Her fingers brushed aside a curtain of leaves,
[9:24] Speaker 1: and I watched her shoulders shift, and she took a
[9:27] Speaker 1: step through them. She didn't call for me, She just
[9:33] Speaker 1: stood there, still, staring into something just beyond the veil
[9:38] Speaker 1: of green. I moved up beside her, and we both
[9:42] Speaker 1: stood in silence. A basin of dark rock had opened
[9:49] Speaker 1: up between a ring of crooked trees. The stream had reappeared,
[9:54] Speaker 1: pulling into a circular spring no wider than a small room.
[10:00] Speaker 1: Shimmered slow and patient, catching light and shifting patterns that
[10:05] Speaker 1: didn't seem to match the movement of the wind above.
[10:09] Speaker 1: The water looked clear from a distance, but there was
[10:13] Speaker 1: something unnatural in the stillness of it. No insects skated
[10:17] Speaker 1: across the surface, no leaves floated. It almost looked held
[10:22] Speaker 1: together by something beneath the surface, some tension that refused
[10:27] Speaker 1: and let it ripple. She stepped forward, first, lowering herself
[10:33] Speaker 1: down the incline toward the edge of the pool. I followed,
[10:39] Speaker 1: careful not to slip on the damp stone. When I
[10:42] Speaker 1: crouched beside her and reached down to touch the water.
[10:46] Speaker 1: I expected a chill. Instead, it felt thick between my fingers,
[10:53] Speaker 1: resisting slightly before letting me in. My skin came away
[10:58] Speaker 1: coated in something I could quite describe. It wasn't oil,
[11:03] Speaker 1: but it clung to me for several seconds before thinning
[11:07] Speaker 1: out in the breeze. The air around the spring was
[11:11] Speaker 1: noticeably warmer. The change was immediate and total. My arms
[11:18] Speaker 1: bare beneath my rolled sleeves felt flushed. The sweat on
[11:22] Speaker 1: my back rose to the surface faster, and I found
[11:26] Speaker 1: myself breathing just a little harder, without realizing why. She
[11:32] Speaker 1: didn't seem to notice. She dipped her hand in and
[11:36] Speaker 1: watched the water turn glassy around her wrist. Her lips
[11:40] Speaker 1: parted slightly, but she said nothing. Her fingers moved toward
[11:46] Speaker 1: the chain and her neck delicately, as though she were
[11:49] Speaker 1: undressing in the presence of something ancient. I watched as
[11:55] Speaker 1: she unfastened the rosary and drew it out from beneath
[11:58] Speaker 1: a shirt. The metal links had dulled over the ears,
[12:02] Speaker 1: and a faint green betina had started to creep along
[12:05] Speaker 1: the curve of the crucifix. She stared at it for
[12:09] Speaker 1: a moment before speaking it old she said, sensitive, I
[12:18] Speaker 1: don't want it to corrode in this stuff. She folded
[12:23] Speaker 1: the rosary into a cloth she pulled out from her pocket,
[12:26] Speaker 1: worn cotton, soft and faded, and pressed it flat against
[12:31] Speaker 1: the rock beside the pool. She smoothed it out with
[12:35] Speaker 1: her palm, anchoring each corner, as if afraid the wind
[12:39] Speaker 1: might try to steal it. I waited until she was done,
[12:45] Speaker 1: then unlaced my boots. The stone on the foot would
[12:50] Speaker 1: slick with moss and cool to the touch, but the
[12:53] Speaker 1: air here remained warm, pressing against my shoulders and cheeks,
[12:58] Speaker 1: as if we had walked into a greenhouse sealed from
[13:01] Speaker 1: the rest of the forest. She stepped in first, her
[13:06] Speaker 1: bare foot, breaking the surface without a sound. The water
[13:10] Speaker 1: accepted her without resistance. She waded forward slowly, arms outstretched
[13:17] Speaker 1: for balance, until she reached the center of the spring.
[13:22] Speaker 1: The surface rose to her hips. Her skin shimmered slightly
[13:26] Speaker 1: when the water touched it, coated in something that caught
[13:30] Speaker 1: the light. Unevenly. I followed, placing one foot then the
[13:35] Speaker 1: other into the water. My breath caught in my chest.
[13:42] Speaker 1: It felt strange, almost gelatinous. It didn't seem to resist
[13:46] Speaker 1: her entrance as much as mine. The surface tension pressed
[13:51] Speaker 1: against my ankles with each step, the water wrapped around me.
[13:58] Speaker 1: When I reached her, she turned toward me, with her
[14:01] Speaker 1: hair pulled back and droplets resting on her collar bone.
[14:07] Speaker 1: She smiled, then, wide and bright. I cupped some of
[14:13] Speaker 1: the water in my hands and let it run through
[14:15] Speaker 1: my fingers. It left a residue behind, faint but unmistakable,
[14:22] Speaker 1: something thicker than expected. I didn't say anything. She wouldn't
[14:28] Speaker 1: have wanted me to ruin the moment with concern, I
[14:32] Speaker 1: kept smiling. We stood there for a while, surrounded by
[14:37] Speaker 1: trees that never moved, in water that never rippled, as
[14:41] Speaker 1: if time had paused just for us. Her shoulders relaxed,
[14:49] Speaker 1: her breath steadied. She dipped under for a second, and
[14:54] Speaker 1: when she rose again, her laughter broke across the surface
[14:58] Speaker 1: like something sacred. Later, back at the cabin, I would
[15:06] Speaker 1: need to scrub my skin harder than usual to feel clean,
[15:10] Speaker 1: But in that moment, standing beside her in the spring,
[15:15] Speaker 1: all I could see was the woman I loved, glowing
[15:19] Speaker 1: and a filtered sunlight. We eventually got out of the
[15:24] Speaker 1: water and started making our way back. She grew quiet
[15:28] Speaker 1: on the walk. At first I thought it was the
[15:32] Speaker 1: fatigue from the hike catching up to her. The trail
[15:35] Speaker 1: had been long, and the heat near the spring had
[15:38] Speaker 1: left us both flushed and thirsty. Her steps became shorter, slower.
[15:45] Speaker 1: I offered her water, and she took it without speaking,
[15:49] Speaker 1: holding the bottle against the forehead before drinking. Her hand
[15:53] Speaker 1: trembled slightly when she handed it back. By the time
[15:59] Speaker 1: we reached the cab, the light was falling behind the trees.
[16:03] Speaker 1: She sat down on the edge of the bed and
[16:05] Speaker 1: rubbed the temples with the heels of her hands. When
[16:09] Speaker 1: I asked if she was all right, she nodded once,
[16:12] Speaker 1: but her lips stayed pressed together. A few minutes passed
[16:17] Speaker 1: before she spoke. I don't feel great, she said, softly.
[16:23] Speaker 1: My head's pounding, my stomach's off. I just need to
[16:27] Speaker 1: sleep for a bit. I helped her out of her
[16:31] Speaker 1: shoes and pulled the blanket over her. She called, and
[16:35] Speaker 1: a side knees pulled in, breathing slow and shallow. I
[16:41] Speaker 1: sat beside her until her eyes closed, brushing strands of
[16:44] Speaker 1: hair from her face. Her forehead was damp. The fire
[16:51] Speaker 1: pit behind the cabin sat unused, the logs untouched. I
[16:56] Speaker 1: didn't bother lighting anything inside. Stretch of daylight filtered through
[17:01] Speaker 1: the curtains in dull stripes across the walls. I found
[17:06] Speaker 1: myself standing at the window, watching for nothing in particular,
[17:10] Speaker 1: only listening to the sounds of the house breathing around me.
[17:17] Speaker 1: Later that night, once she'd fallen into a deeper sleep,
[17:21] Speaker 1: I stepped outside for air. The trees rustled gently, wind
[17:27] Speaker 1: moving just enough to stir the ferns. On my way
[17:31] Speaker 1: back in, I remembered the rosary. We had left it
[17:36] Speaker 1: beside the spring, carefully folded in that cloth resting on
[17:40] Speaker 1: the flat rock. I wondered if she had maybe forgotten it.
[17:46] Speaker 1: I moved through the cabin and checked the counter where
[17:49] Speaker 1: she'd set her bag earlier. I opened the pouch she
[17:52] Speaker 1: kept smaller things, in no sign of it. Eventually I
[17:58] Speaker 1: found the cloth folded neatly on the night stand beside
[18:01] Speaker 1: the side of her bed, the same fabric she had
[18:04] Speaker 1: used to protect it. It had been smoothed out, edges
[18:09] Speaker 1: are lined, but the rosary was no longer inside. I
[18:14] Speaker 1: picked it up, turned it over in my hands, then
[18:17] Speaker 1: opened the drawer beneath it. Just in case she had
[18:20] Speaker 1: moved it empty. She stirred behind me, but didn't wake.
[18:30] Speaker 1: In the morning, I made a tea and sat at
[18:33] Speaker 1: the foot of the bed while she drank it slowly.
[18:37] Speaker 1: Her face was pale, her eyes heavy. When I asked
[18:41] Speaker 1: her about the rosary, she took another sip before answering,
[18:47] Speaker 1: I'll just get another one, she said, voice thin, but calm,
[18:52] Speaker 1: it's just the thing. I can't think about it right now.
[18:58] Speaker 1: I didn't say anything, I think I just blinked at
[19:01] Speaker 1: her for a moment, waiting for the rest of the sentence,
[19:05] Speaker 1: the reason, the part where she'd laugh and call herself forgetful.
[19:11] Speaker 1: But it didn't come. She had never treated it as
[19:16] Speaker 1: just the thing. For as long as I'd known her,
[19:20] Speaker 1: that rosary had been something sacred. She slept with it,
[19:24] Speaker 1: traveled with it. Once she turned the car round half
[19:28] Speaker 1: way to her friend's wedding because she realized she had
[19:30] Speaker 1: left it on the kitchen counter, and now it was gone,
[19:37] Speaker 1: and she didn't seem to care. I stared at her
[19:42] Speaker 1: longer than I should have, trying to decide if I
[19:45] Speaker 1: was supposed to let it go. Her eyes remained in
[19:48] Speaker 1: the mark in her hands, and her mouth didn't move again.
[19:53] Speaker 1: Something in the room felt thinner than it had the
[19:55] Speaker 1: night before, as if something had been peeled away. I
[20:06] Speaker 1: woke up to cold sheet the next night. Her side
[20:10] Speaker 1: of the bed had been stretched out, untouched since I'd
[20:13] Speaker 1: fallen asleep. The blanket lay flat, Her pillow held no shape,
[20:19] Speaker 1: no weight. The small lamp on the dresser still glowed faintly,
[20:24] Speaker 1: casting dull color against the wall. I sat up, blinking
[20:29] Speaker 1: through the quiet, listening for footsteps, her creak, a sigh,
[20:34] Speaker 1: anything that might tell me where she had gone. The
[20:38] Speaker 1: cabin didn't answer. I called her name once, then again, louder.
[20:46] Speaker 1: Nothing came back. My feet hid the floor. Before I
[20:50] Speaker 1: had fully registered what I was doing, the air felt
[20:54] Speaker 1: sharp against my skin, the chill already collecting in my chest.
[20:59] Speaker 1: I pulled open and the bathroom door empty, checked, the
[21:03] Speaker 1: kitchen empty. Even the front porch was still. By the
[21:09] Speaker 1: time I realized she wasn't anywhere inside, I had already
[21:13] Speaker 1: stepped out, barefoot, onto the damp boards. The trees loomed
[21:18] Speaker 1: in black silence ahead of me, every shape sharpened by moonlight.
[21:24] Speaker 1: I ran toward the trail, the ground bitter, my souls,
[21:28] Speaker 1: twigs snapping, under each step, mud slick beneath the fallen leaves.
[21:34] Speaker 1: My voice cracked as I shouted her name again, the
[21:37] Speaker 1: sound tearing itself away from my throat. I bounced off
[21:42] Speaker 1: the tree, trunks fractured and hollow. I kept running farther
[21:46] Speaker 1: than I thought she could have gone, breathing in short gasps,
[21:50] Speaker 1: chest burning. My hands shook. Then I saw her. She
[21:59] Speaker 1: stepped up from the trees without urgency, strands of hair
[22:03] Speaker 1: lit faintly by moonlight, her arms hanging loose by her sides.
[22:09] Speaker 1: Her expression was calm, A soft smile tugged at her lips,
[22:14] Speaker 1: Quiet and unfazed. I just wanted to visit the springs again.
[22:21] Speaker 1: She said, they were so warm. Didn't you think they
[22:25] Speaker 1: were warm? She took a few steps forward and reached
[22:30] Speaker 1: for my hand. I didn't move, My body refused to answer.
[22:37] Speaker 1: Something in me hesitated an instinct, too quiet to speak aloud,
[22:42] Speaker 1: but loud enough to freeze my breath in my throat.
[22:47] Speaker 1: I nodded. I didn't know what else to do. She
[22:52] Speaker 1: turned back toward the cabin and began walking. I followed.
[23:06] Speaker 1: Over the next few days, the fever vanished, She moved easier,
[23:11] Speaker 1: her appetite returned. She no longer clutched the stomach in
[23:15] Speaker 1: the mornings or winced at the light near the windows.
[23:20] Speaker 1: On the surface, she appeared healed. But the woman I
[23:24] Speaker 1: loved did not come back from the forest. She laughed
[23:29] Speaker 1: at the wrong moments. She answered questions without context, skipping
[23:33] Speaker 1: the parts in between. When I teased her about something
[23:37] Speaker 1: we used the joke about, she stared at me for
[23:40] Speaker 1: several seconds before forcing a smile. Her reactions came too
[23:45] Speaker 1: slow or too fast, never where they should have landed.
[23:50] Speaker 1: She flinched when a bird hit the glass outside. She
[23:53] Speaker 1: jumped when I dropped a spoon. She walked quieter now,
[23:58] Speaker 1: steps placed too evil, only on the floorboards, as if
[24:02] Speaker 1: she didn't want the house to know she was there.
[24:06] Speaker 1: Touch felt different. Her hand, once warm in mine, held
[24:11] Speaker 1: no heat. Her fingertips rested too still against my skin,
[24:16] Speaker 1: more like something mimicking comfort than offering it. She didn't
[24:20] Speaker 1: lean into my chest when I pulled her clothes. She
[24:23] Speaker 1: didn't breathe against my shoulder while she slept. But she
[24:28] Speaker 1: was here, and she was getting stronger. That mattered. That
[24:34] Speaker 1: was something, and so I decided to make her a gift.
[24:42] Speaker 1: I gathered twined from the drawer and pieces of driftwood
[24:45] Speaker 1: from near the edge of the trail. I cut them
[24:48] Speaker 1: into small segments, sinding them against stone under The edges
[24:52] Speaker 1: were round enough to sit comfortably against my skin. I
[24:56] Speaker 1: looped them together in the shape of the rosary she
[24:59] Speaker 1: had always carried, threading each piece carefully, whispering a name
[25:03] Speaker 1: under my breath each time I added a bead. I
[25:08] Speaker 1: tied that not last, tight and clean, and held the
[25:11] Speaker 1: makeshift chain in my palm. It wasn't beautiful, but it
[25:17] Speaker 1: had weight. That evening, I offered it to her. She
[25:26] Speaker 1: looked at it for a long time before taking it.
[25:29] Speaker 1: Her fingers ran across the wood, her mouth folded at
[25:33] Speaker 1: the corners, not into a smile. I don't need things
[25:39] Speaker 1: like that, she said, voice low. She set it on
[25:44] Speaker 1: the table and walked past me, leaving the gift behind
[25:48] Speaker 1: without another word. I stood there for several minutes, staring
[25:54] Speaker 1: down at the loop of twine and wood. The knot
[25:58] Speaker 1: I tied held firm. I told myself it was fine.
[26:04] Speaker 1: Maybe she didn't feel like herself, Maybe she needed time.
[26:09] Speaker 1: I brushed it off. I had to. That night, while
[26:15] Speaker 1: we sat on the couch with a blanket over our legs.
[26:18] Speaker 1: She turned her head toward a dark window and said
[26:22] Speaker 1: we should go to morrow. I looked at her, expecting
[26:28] Speaker 1: a smile. There wasn't one. Her eyes stayed on the glass,
[26:34] Speaker 1: unreadable in the dim light. I want to go home,
[26:40] Speaker 1: she said. I reminded her that she begged for this trip,
[26:45] Speaker 1: that she had joked about never wanting to leave. She
[26:49] Speaker 1: didn't answer. She just repeated the words again, slower this time,
[26:55] Speaker 1: as if thing meant something I couldn't hear properly. That night,
[27:01] Speaker 1: in bed, I reached for her hand under the covers.
[27:05] Speaker 1: Her fingers rested in mind without pressure. Her skin felt cool,
[27:10] Speaker 1: even beneath the warmth of the quilt. She didn't close
[27:14] Speaker 1: her eyes when the lights went out. I know because
[27:18] Speaker 1: I opened mine hours later and saw her still awake,
[27:22] Speaker 1: staring straight ahead. In the morning, I watched her brush
[27:28] Speaker 1: her hair in the mirror. The light through the bathroom
[27:31] Speaker 1: window caught her face, but her eyes didn't shine. They
[27:36] Speaker 1: took the light in and gave nothing back, no reflection,
[27:41] Speaker 1: no shimmer, just that still surface I had first seen
[27:46] Speaker 1: in the spring. The banging started just after three. I'd
[27:53] Speaker 1: been lying awake, staring at the ceiling while her breath
[27:56] Speaker 1: moved slow and even beside me. I and touched her.
[28:01] Speaker 1: I couldn't bring myself to something about the stillness in
[28:05] Speaker 1: her body didn't invite warmth. It only reminded me how
[28:10] Speaker 1: long it had been since I'd felt it. The first
[28:14] Speaker 1: sound shook the front door on its hinges, a low,
[28:18] Speaker 1: wet slam, followed by silence, then another louder, as if
[28:25] Speaker 1: something with weight and mass had thrown itself forward, not
[28:29] Speaker 1: with rage but intent. The third knock rattled the windows,
[28:35] Speaker 1: sharp enough that one of the panes groaned against this frame.
[28:40] Speaker 1: She didn't stir. I slid out of bed, feet, hitting
[28:45] Speaker 1: the wood with a dull thud. The hallway stretched out
[28:49] Speaker 1: in front of me, dim with shadows that shifted with
[28:52] Speaker 1: each movement I made. My hand trembled in the doorknob.
[28:57] Speaker 1: The cabin hadn't felt safe in days, but this was different.
[29:03] Speaker 1: The fourth knock came just as I pulled the door open,
[29:08] Speaker 1: and then I saw it. The creature stood beneath the
[29:12] Speaker 1: porch light, too tall for the frame of the door
[29:15] Speaker 1: to contain in a single glance. Its body glistened, coated
[29:21] Speaker 1: in a layer of translucent fluid that moved over its
[29:24] Speaker 1: own skin in slow crawling waves. Each inch of its
[29:29] Speaker 1: surface shimmered with a film that caught the light and
[29:32] Speaker 1: bent it into colors that didn't belong in this world.
[29:37] Speaker 1: We just stared at each other for a long moment.
[29:41] Speaker 1: Its head had been split into three long plates, peeled
[29:44] Speaker 1: apart from the crown, angled outward and trembling gently. The
[29:49] Speaker 1: plates curved with jagged seams, their inner edges wet and raw,
[29:54] Speaker 1: revealing an absence where a skull should have held shape.
[29:58] Speaker 1: The face, if it had one, offered no center, no symmetry,
[30:05] Speaker 1: just those three plates, shuddering open around nothing. The mouth
[30:10] Speaker 1: moved separately, for thick slabs of flesh curled outward in
[30:15] Speaker 1: uneven petals, retracting and revealing the tongue within, black swollen,
[30:22] Speaker 1: ridged with grooves, coated in a sheen that reflected every
[30:27] Speaker 1: flicker of motion. The tongue didn't rest, It pulsed against
[30:32] Speaker 1: the open air. Tentacles hung low from its chest. They
[30:37] Speaker 1: weren't limp or drifting. They twitched in small, deliberate motions,
[30:43] Speaker 1: flexing inward and outward, testing the space between them and
[30:47] Speaker 1: the cabin's threshold. Their ends were pointed too narrow for bone,
[30:52] Speaker 1: to be inside them, and they reached for the air
[30:56] Speaker 1: as if it held answers. Its muscle tissue was bare.
[31:00] Speaker 1: In some places, the skin torn away or never formed
[31:04] Speaker 1: at all. The exposed fiber flakes with each small movement,
[31:09] Speaker 1: veins thick and dark, running in webs over the surface.
[31:14] Speaker 1: They pulsed under the skin, but the rhythm was irregular,
[31:18] Speaker 1: off in a way that made my stomach twist. From
[31:22] Speaker 1: several torn pockets of flesh. Yellow puss bubbled and slid downward,
[31:27] Speaker 1: slow and heavy, pulling around the base of its legs.
[31:32] Speaker 1: The liquid hissed where it met the porch, but no
[31:35] Speaker 1: smoke rose. No smell followed, only the sound of dripping.
[31:42] Speaker 1: But it was the eyes that made my breath catch.
[31:47] Speaker 1: They were set too far apart from each of them.
[31:51] Speaker 1: A viscous substance wept in long, steady strands. The tears
[31:56] Speaker 1: were thick, glassy, but not water. They glowed faintly, trailing
[32:03] Speaker 1: down the creature's face in slow, unbroken lines. It looked
[32:10] Speaker 1: like it was crying. The creature leaned forward. It tried
[32:16] Speaker 1: to speak, a gurgling breath pushed out, rough and slurred,
[32:21] Speaker 1: its voice broken by moisture and too many folds of
[32:25] Speaker 1: ruined flesh. Wait, please, the sound of rot forming speech,
[32:35] Speaker 1: wet valves spilling through something that had never been meant
[32:39] Speaker 1: to talk. I didn't understand what it said at the time.
[32:44] Speaker 1: My legs had already started to move. I turned and ran.
[32:51] Speaker 1: I didn't look back. The door swung wide behind me,
[32:55] Speaker 1: banging against the wall, hardenough to splinter. My feet pounded
[32:59] Speaker 1: the floor boards, slick with cold sweat, each step loud
[33:03] Speaker 1: enough to wake the dead. My chest felt caved in,
[33:07] Speaker 1: lungs crushed on the panic. I shouted a name as
[33:11] Speaker 1: I moved, hoarse and broken, the sound, cracking at the edges.
[33:17] Speaker 1: I threw the bedroom door open so hard and nearly
[33:20] Speaker 1: tore off the hinge, lying flat beneath the covers, arms
[33:24] Speaker 1: folded neatly above the blanket, her eyes open, fixed on
[33:30] Speaker 1: the ceiling, she didn't flinch. The pupils were large, wide
[33:37] Speaker 1: enough to swallow the color in her irises, and the
[33:40] Speaker 1: whites had taken on a faint yellow tint that hadn't
[33:43] Speaker 1: been there the night before. I rushed her aside, dropped
[33:47] Speaker 1: to my knees, grabbed her arm, shook her gently, then harder.
[33:52] Speaker 1: We have to go now, her head turned slightly with
[33:58] Speaker 1: a movement, but a gaze never shifted. Her mouth stayed closed,
[34:03] Speaker 1: her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
[34:08] Speaker 1: The sound of wood breaking echoed through the hallway behind me.
[34:12] Speaker 1: The creature was inside now, Its weight bent the house
[34:16] Speaker 1: around it. I stood, grabbed the door and slammed it shut.
[34:22] Speaker 1: The lock clicked into place beneath my hand, but I
[34:26] Speaker 1: knew it wouldn't matter. My heart hammered so hard I
[34:30] Speaker 1: could hear it in my ears. My skin burned, drenched
[34:34] Speaker 1: in sweat. I pressed my back against the door, staring
[34:38] Speaker 1: at her, whispering a name between sobs that had no shape.
[34:44] Speaker 1: She didn't answer or move. We couldn't leave. There was
[34:50] Speaker 1: nowhere to go. Whatever I had let in it had
[34:54] Speaker 1: already made its way through to us. The creature reached
[34:59] Speaker 1: the door and broke through it with one swing. Wood
[35:03] Speaker 1: splintered in every direction. The hinges ripped off its frame.
[35:08] Speaker 1: It stepped inside, its form, bending as it moved beneath
[35:12] Speaker 1: the narrow ceiling. The floor sagged under its weight. Its
[35:16] Speaker 1: eyes wept in steady streams, the thick fluid falling soundlessly
[35:21] Speaker 1: to the ground. My hand reached blindly toward the table
[35:25] Speaker 1: by the bed. My fingers closed around the makeshift rosary
[35:29] Speaker 1: I built for her, a twine, the pieces of driftwood
[35:32] Speaker 1: I had cut with my own knife shaped for her hands.
[35:36] Speaker 1: I turned and hurled it toward the creature with all
[35:40] Speaker 1: the strength I had left. I was desperate. It struck
[35:46] Speaker 1: its chest and bounced to the floor. The creature stood unchanged,
[35:53] Speaker 1: its head, tilted, its plates trembling slightly. Then it turned,
[36:01] Speaker 1: not toward me. It charged across the room toward the bed.
[36:08] Speaker 1: My wife, lying there didn't react until its weight was
[36:12] Speaker 1: upon her. It pinned her down, massive limbs, pressing into
[36:16] Speaker 1: the mattress. Her mouth opened in a slow, delayed gasp.
[36:21] Speaker 1: Her arms flailed once, then stopped. I lunged, throwing myself
[36:29] Speaker 1: at the creature's side, my fists pounding against the muscle
[36:32] Speaker 1: near its ribs, and sank in swallowed by soft, shifting tissue.
[36:38] Speaker 1: I hit it again and again, screaming through my teeth,
[36:43] Speaker 1: but it didn't react. My punches had no more effect
[36:47] Speaker 1: than raindrops hitting mud. The creature reached down. It picked
[36:54] Speaker 1: up the rosary, lifted it above her face, then shoved
[36:58] Speaker 1: it between her teeth. She began to scream. It didn't
[37:05] Speaker 1: carry through the air like a human voice. If I braided,
[37:09] Speaker 1: folding in on itself, laid in ways my ears couldn't
[37:13] Speaker 1: make sense of. A rose in volume, collided with itself, reversed,
[37:18] Speaker 1: and built again. It sounded like something tearing through flesh
[37:23] Speaker 1: made of glass, like insects, screaming in patterns that only
[37:27] Speaker 1: made sense to the dead. Her back bent high off
[37:31] Speaker 1: the bed, The rosary pushed further into her mouth, drawn
[37:35] Speaker 1: inward as if consumed. Her skin peeled in long sheets,
[37:40] Speaker 1: starting from her shoulders. The collar ran away, first fading
[37:45] Speaker 1: to gray, then pink, then something closer to translucent meat.
[37:50] Speaker 1: Her bones cracked beneath her chest. One of her legs jerked,
[37:55] Speaker 1: spasming hard, before twisting inward and folding beneath her body.
[38:00] Speaker 1: Her jaw unhinged, her eyes rolled back. She let out
[38:05] Speaker 1: one final sound, one that didn't come from her mouth,
[38:09] Speaker 1: but from the walls, from the air itself, a sound
[38:13] Speaker 1: that made me fall to my knees. Her flesh began
[38:17] Speaker 1: to slide. It poured from the bed, dripping in ropes
[38:21] Speaker 1: across the wood, seeping through the seams in the floorboards.
[38:25] Speaker 1: Her limbs softened, her spine curled in on itself, then
[38:30] Speaker 1: disappeared under the sheets, and then she was gone. Nothing
[38:39] Speaker 1: left but the wet stains spreading across the mattress and
[38:43] Speaker 1: the way to my chest there refused to leave. I
[38:48] Speaker 1: collapsed backward, knees giving out beneath me, my chest pulled inward,
[38:54] Speaker 1: ripped hollow by something worse than pain. I screamed the
[38:58] Speaker 1: names through a throat or already torn ragged, and when
[39:02] Speaker 1: no sound followed, I screamed it again. It was a
[39:06] Speaker 1: sound only grief makes. The creature stood motionless, breathing shallow,
[39:14] Speaker 1: its ribs expanding in uneven intervals. Then slowly it turned
[39:21] Speaker 1: toward me. Its mouth moved before the words reached the air.
[39:26] Speaker 1: The sound, once gurgled and gatule, had softened. The voice
[39:31] Speaker 1: still pushed through layers of wet tissue and bone that
[39:34] Speaker 1: hadn't grown in the right places, But the words now
[39:38] Speaker 1: landed with intention. I'm sorry, it said. I didn't know
[39:50] Speaker 1: how else to show you. She's been inside me since
[39:56] Speaker 1: the water. It she took my body and put me
[40:02] Speaker 1: into it. I shook my head. My hands rose without command,
[40:10] Speaker 1: fingers bent, desperate for something to hold on to. That
[40:13] Speaker 1: wasn't dissolving. No, I muttered, no, no. The creature knelt
[40:21] Speaker 1: joint bending in silent, disjointed movements. His chest expanded. One
[40:28] Speaker 1: of its tentacles reached the water floor and unfolded. A
[40:32] Speaker 1: delicate object pushed its way out from beneath the surface
[40:36] Speaker 1: of its skin. Her rosary, the real one, worn at
[40:43] Speaker 1: the edges. The silver chain dulled, the crucifix still scratched
[40:48] Speaker 1: where she used to fidget with it during long car rides.
[40:52] Speaker 1: It lay down the rosary between us. Ay, it said,
[41:00] Speaker 1: I remember everything. I would never leave this rosary behind.
[41:10] Speaker 1: You know this, but I'm so so scared. Its voice
[41:20] Speaker 1: cracked on the last word. Something in it trembled, not
[41:25] Speaker 1: the body, but the soul buried inside it. And for
[41:29] Speaker 1: the first time, I didn't see a creature. I didn't
[41:34] Speaker 1: see a threat. I saw her, and I stayed. I
[41:41] Speaker 1: scrubbed the floor until the stains faded. I gathered the
[41:44] Speaker 1: bed sheets and took them into the fireplace behind the cabin.
[41:49] Speaker 1: I watched them burn down to threads, felt the heat
[41:52] Speaker 1: by my skin. Waited until the wind carried the last
[41:56] Speaker 1: of the smoke into the trees. She didn't leave, neither
[42:03] Speaker 1: did I. We moved through the house in silence. At first,
[42:09] Speaker 1: she took small steps through the rooms. Her body dragged
[42:13] Speaker 1: wet shadows across the floor. I cooked. She ate when
[42:18] Speaker 1: I offered her food. She didn't use utensils. Her hands
[42:23] Speaker 1: moved differently, joints bending in directions I couldn't name. I
[42:28] Speaker 1: spoke softly to her. When she wept. I held her.
[42:33] Speaker 1: Thick strands from her eyes clung to my skin, but
[42:37] Speaker 1: I didn't pull away. Her tentacles twisted around my wrist,
[42:42] Speaker 1: loose and trembling. Whatever form she wore. Now, whatever thing
[42:48] Speaker 1: she had become, it hadn't stripped her of what she was.
[42:54] Speaker 1: She was still here. I brought her tea every morning,
[43:00] Speaker 1: the same blend she had loved before, brewed longer than
[43:03] Speaker 1: usual to fill the room with a smell. She used
[43:06] Speaker 1: to say reminded her of autumn. She sipped from a ball.
[43:10] Speaker 1: Now her mouth didn't work the way it once had,
[43:15] Speaker 1: but she drank, and when she finished, she held the
[43:19] Speaker 1: empty dish close to her chest, as if the warmth
[43:22] Speaker 1: meant something. We talked a lot. She asked about things
[43:28] Speaker 1: we had done. Her memory was still there, but not fully.
[43:34] Speaker 1: She remembered details I had forgotten her first storm together,
[43:39] Speaker 1: the hotel that smelled of cinnamon, the gas station where
[43:42] Speaker 1: we slowed, danced in the parking lot because her favorite
[43:45] Speaker 1: song came on the radio. She remembered things that had
[43:49] Speaker 1: left an impact on her soul. Some evenings, I sat
[43:55] Speaker 1: across from her and stared for too long. There were
[43:59] Speaker 1: moments I let my mind wonder. I saw her again
[44:04] Speaker 1: as she had been before the spring, her hands brushing
[44:08] Speaker 1: through her hair, her shoulders soft in the firelight, her
[44:12] Speaker 1: feet tugged beneath her on the couch. For a heartbeat,
[44:18] Speaker 1: I let myself believe that I couldn't deal with it.
[44:23] Speaker 1: And then she smiled. The expression moved through her face
[44:28] Speaker 1: with difficulty, her flesh stretched unevenly across too many teeth,
[44:34] Speaker 1: her jaw open from both sides, bending inward in slow,
[44:38] Speaker 1: trembling arcs. The smile didn't belong on a human face,
[44:45] Speaker 1: but it was gentle, It was hers, and I knew
[44:51] Speaker 1: it so Yes, I would love my wife no matter
[44:59] Speaker 1: what she was

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