Possession
Thomas felt it coming. He ran to the toilet, knelt before it.
His insides clenched and coiled and green goo erupted from his lips. The stuff just kept coming. It got on his forearm, his right thumb. Thomas gripped the toilet, wished he cleaned it more often.
Once the putrid torrent ceased, Thomas went to the kitchen for another roll of paper towel.
This is such a pain in the ass, he thought.
Out in the living room, the flies buzzed all over the sliding door. Thomas had no idea where they were coming from. They buzzed all night, all day. Their corpses littered the balcony. It was disgusting.
Thomas was just going to have to ride this out. He’d found out earlier that day that he wasn’t enduring only a sickness but a full blown demonic curse.
There weren’t any voices in his head or any schizophrenic tendencies, at least not so far. Everything was manifested in gross digestive expulsions and skin rashes and a strange genital shriveling. And the flies, of course.
Thomas wasn’t even sure how he’d been cursed, or possessed, or whatever. He hadn’t come across any witch doctors with smoke coming out their nostrils or old crones pointing crooked fingers or fallen priests murmuring Satanic prayers.
