the bites
Sitting in bed I gazed, confused, down at my arms and legs. It was early morning, however I had recently enough light to see my body. Everything was obvious after I evacuated the duvet that had before concealed the sight from me.
Nibbles were a really common and typical event to me. In any event it used to be. Some time recently, when I put in two years living in Singapore, they were a close consistent inconvenience.
I'd turned out to be excessively usual to mosquito chomps when I was there. No measure of bug shower had appeared to keep them away. I'd get up each morning to discover new proof of a daily devour my middle, legs and arms. A meal that would abandon me tingling and swelling.
My "record" was 37 nibbles on one leg, the other being no better. Singapore mosquitoes were some eager little mongrels. I'd phoned in wiped out to work that day, not able to stroll from the swelling.
My blood was obviously divine... Since the same thing would happen on any excursions to more sultry atmospheres as well. And chomps from kissing bugs in under clean inn beds on the same excursions. My companions used to joke that it was all the sugary, girly drinks I guzzled while on my excursions around the globe. After which I'd generally expeditiously flip them off. My companions that is, not the tingling, red nibbles, nor the beautiful mixed drinks.
I'd even gotten nibbled by a couple of arachnids while exploring in Thailand a couple of years back. Nothing venomous as you may already know. Simply some minor bugs irritated that I was in their direction or obliterating their homes.
Still, since I'd moved back home to Sweden, I'd never truly needed to manage getting nibbled again. One of only a handful few solaces of the colder atmosphere was the absence of bug action. Particularly amid his the dark months of harvest time and winter.
Chomps used to be a typical event to me, beyond any doubt. Mosquito chomps were irritating, however I could manage them. I even had a cream or two in my weapons store to manage the scars and tingling from the horrendous bug chomps.
Those nibbles had, all things considered, been a piece of my day by day routine at a certain point.
Be that as it may, there was no mixing up the nibbles on my skin in the early morning light. Blushed marks that had not penetrated the skin, but rather still left spaces, perplexed my arms and legs.
The dull throb developed as I sat in bed gazing at my body. Gradually feeling deadness swing to stun and freeze. Not able to take my eyes off of the exposed skin on my thighs.
These nibble imprints weren't from mosquitoes, kissing bugs or, hellfire, even bugs. They weren't even the peculiar triangle nibbles of creepy crawlies.
These chomps were unmistakably human...
