Skin For Steel

870 words. How far are you willing to go to change your body into what you truly desire? Would you sell your flesh to a terrible creature?

Everyday is tiring. I wake up and feel my own flesh begging to be burnt off. I see my arms and legs and they don’t feel right on my body. I drag myself into the bathroom everyday, trying my very damnedest to make my body what I want it to be. I desire so much more than what this world has given me.

I go to work tired. I’ve already spent hours just trying to make my body less hate-able, and yet you ask me to show up here and work for even longer with a body that I don’t want to see, and I don’t want others to see? You desire I break myself for pennies just so that I can live, and yet you do nothing to aid my life in any meaningful way. I see.

I return home tired. Sometimes I’m too tired to hate myself. I’m okay with those days. At least I can go to bed with some peace in mind, instead of staring at myself and despising my own despicable form. It’s a form of peace given to me only by true turmoil.

I repeat this cycle constantly. What few days I have off are dedicated to staring at a wall, hoping that something will crawl out of it and hand-deliver to me the body of my choosing. They’ll let me be something that I deserve to be.

It never happens.

I have waited for so long.

And I am tired of waiting.

I have taken matters into my own hands. My blank wall is now covered in black ink, a seal I crafted myself, one that will merge my reality with that of something unknown to everyone before today. Years of staring at this imperfect and beaten wall have finally given me the solution that I crave. 

I drag a knife through my palm, doing to my flesh exactly what it deserve for being so wretched, and I drag it across the center of the seal. The seal’s black begins to change into a rust. The smell of rotted metal takes over the room.

A cursed voice that sounds like the screeching of metal upon metal, dust upon dust, cries out in pain. It’s form begins to climb out of the wall. It’s a disgusting amalgamate of weathered metal plating and muscle. Its huge arm is the first thing to leave the seal, digging its dulled talons into my flooring to pull itself out, leading next with its head.

It’s eyes are never blinking cameras. The dull lenses move to and fro, scouting the surroundings. They quickly settle on me. The creature screeches again.

“Hello, companion,” I say to the thing. “I have brought you here. You owe me no debt, but I ask you a favor anyway.”

The creature slams it’s one exposed fist into the ground next to me and screeches. I continue to speak. “You can change me, can’t you? Please. take my worthless tissue and make me into something more suitable!”

I throw myself onto my knees before this creature. Its lenses adjust accordingly. It stares deep into my being, deeper than anything had ever stared before. I feel it stare at all of my flaws, and all of my imperfections. It strips me of my clothing, my skin, my muscle, my bones, until I am nothing more than an essence to it.

This terrible beast suddenly moves its one arm to grab me and lift me into the air. It begins to squeeze me, tighter and tighter. I sigh as I feel my capacity for air disappear.

The beast digs its elbow into my wall, and drags its other shoulder into my plane of existence. I cry. Its second arm enters my world.

With its alternate hand, it gently places its pinprick extremities upon my body, each needle sending an individual chill through the core of my very being, as if stabbing through all of me and into the very thing that makes me who I am.

It then begins to literally pierce my body, in this physical plane. I scream as bone and fiber was equally punctured, my body quickly failing to keep me alive. And yet I do not die. 

This terrible, horrid monster crushes and rips my body apart, it’s muscles rippling with every motion it makes, screams echoing through my very soul. And yet I do not die.

I am thrown aside, piece by piece, my body completely and utterly decimated. If someone were to stumble upon me and try to discover who I am, they would find no answer. And yet I do not die.

The awful creature grinds its fists, leaving metal chips and shavings on the ground where I once was. I will my flesh toward this new vessel that is slowly building itself.

Flesh and steel combine, giving me a form that is unlike any other form this world has seen. I feel my new appendages move. I drag my accursed limbs across the ground, adjusting to my new form. 

I shriek, releasing a shrill sound not unlike nails on a chalkboard.

This wonderful bastard shrieks as well, resonating with my own.

I have finally become what I’ve always envisioned.

Author: Kay Walker

I write short stories, and post them to my site

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