Waterlogged by Juan Diaz

Waterlogged by Juan Diaz

Feb 06, 2022

This is not a confession. 

This is… oh I’m not sure what this is. An incredible story indeed. I’ll start from when I think it started. Everything is cloudy in my head. Foggy. Foggier by the day.

I had lost my wife and son. Drowning accident. It’s been close to a year now. I miss them every day. I shuffle around our home, feeling empty inside. Looking at family pictures.

It started with the pipes. Sounds in the pipes, specifically. First a tap-tap-tapping. That lasted a few days. Every night. “TAP, TAP, TAP.”

Then, the whispers.

Plumbers came out and checked the home and found nothing. No clogs. No grease. No hair. Clean pipes. No one could hear the voices. No one except me.

After a few restless nights of whispers coming from the pipes, the noise stopped. No more whispers. No more voices. That night, I slept twelve hours straight. 

The next morning, I woke up refreshed. As I grabbed my razor, I noticed a small red bump on my cheek. I looked for a whitehead or an ingrown hair but nothing. I washed my face, trying to keep that area clean. 

I cleaned the house a little and finally caught up on work stuff. As I sat down to  finally eat, I felt an itch. I looked in the bathroom mirror and found the bump had not only gotten larger, but it also moved and my right eye had begun to swell. 

I went to the clinic and was given some cream and antibiotics. I took pain pills as my eye throbbed, and tried to sleep. 

But at least no more voices.

The next few days were hell. The bump had seemed to move closer to my right ear. The pain was intense. A constant dull pain. I didn’t even bother going back to the clinic. Nothing worked. I spent my days sitting in the dark. The light hurt my eyes. 

The days run together now. 

I had enough strength to go buy some tweezers. I think I found the solution to my migraines. There’s something in my ear. I just need to get it out. My migraines will go away. Just like that. 

At least, I hope.

I grab what I think is a piece of hard earwax. It’s not wax.

It’s hair. A strand of black hair. 

As I pull the strand out, the  pressure inside my ear increased tenfold. The pain is unbearable but I have to keep going. 

As I look in the mirror I see myself pulling chunks of hair out of my ear.

Then teeth.

The teeth come out, covered a thin clear slime. 

Then the eyeballs. Squished enough to easily come out of my ear. They plop to the floor, along with the other bloody bits. 

It takes me what seems like an eternity of pulling things out of my skull like a damn magician’s hat. A few hours later and I’m staring at a bloody mess of organs, sinew, muscle and hair. The migraines are gone at least. I fall asleep on the bathroom floor, next to the bloody mess. 

I wake up the next morning, the bloody mess is gone. In its place is Miranda. My wife. Naked. Pale. Her eyes blank. I back up into the living room as she shuffles closer. I feel a rumble in my stomach. A movement. Miranda gets closer and closer as the pain increases. I fall back. As I lay dying, I see my son slowly clawing out of my stomach. 

Today is the one year anniversary of their deaths. God, how I missed them. This is not a confession. When you find my body, I want you to know one thing. 

I’ll never regret drowning them.

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