Itchy

By Kevin Taylor

The itch was mild at first, but by the end of that day it was constant and intense: a prickling, tingling trauma emanating from a penny-sized epicenter on the inside of my forearm.

Driving me mad.

With each frantic scratch the sensation bore deeper. I scraped over my raw skin, oblivious to the pain as each pink layer was chiseled away to expose a deeper red beneath, beads of blood popping under my fingernails.

I stopped only when I saw, with sickening horror, the tiny black claws break through, digging as furiously to get out as I was to get in.