hallo everyone. i've never like actually shared anything i've written beyond my close friends, so this is a little Nerve Wracking for me but i figured i'd give this years writers jam a try

i chose the prompt "facade". and worry not; i love bugs. the title is from the perspective of the main character of this story and not me, whimsical wife. i was sort of going for goosebumps vibes with this one but was unsure whether to rate it t or m but decided to play it safe and go with m. Didn't see any rating related rules so i hope Thats okay. Story is 2k words

Why I Hate Bugs

“Ah’ told ya’ ta’ stop bringin’ them damn bugs into mah house, Sammy!” my mother yelled at me from the kitchen. I looked down at the small, pale yellow cricket in my hand. The creature gave a slight jump and tilted its head at me, almost as if to ask “What’s her problem?”

“They don’t even bite…” I muttered. I hoped she didn’t overhear me, but she quickly returned with a “Ah’ don’t care! It’s mah house! Go on, git out with it!!”

Her accent always came out heavy when she yelled. I scurried back outside, not daring to argue back. 

I hopped down the worn, wooden steps of the trailer and skipped to the woods where I had found my little friend. Past the bunches of poison ivy and dull brown oak trees. When you say forest, someone from the city might imagine a beautiful mosaic of greens, and a lush grass carpet dotted with wildflowers. Not our forest. Its greatest claim was housing the local wildlife. Other than that, it was brown, brown and more brown. Since it was winter, it was somehow even more brown. 

I got down on my scuffed knees and set the little beast down by the flipped log I had retrieved it from. My insect friend refused to bug.

“C’mon now..” I grumbled, trying to sweep it off its perch. In response, it merely jumped to the side. My other hand moved to grab it, when I suddenly heard the sweetest sound.

“Oh please! Don’t make me go back into this freezing wasteland, child!”

It was the voice of an adult woman, A voice that sounded like a gentle lullaby.

“Right down here…” The insect in my palm cooed, peering up at me with innocent black eyes. “It was I who spoke, I am terribly sorry if I frightened you..”

“How.. How are you doing that?” I asked, stunned. “I’ve never heard of a bug that could talk..”

“Oh my dear… It is because I am no bug. I am an angel.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “For real?”

“Yes.” She giggled. “I promise."

It made sense. I had thought she was a cricket, but when I really looked at her, she didn't seem like one at all. She was an iridescent goldy yellow, and her eyes were like freshly poured ink. Her antennae twirled into an lovely curl. Pale yellow vines seemed to be embroidered onto her delicate body. 

“I don’t think my mom would be too happy if I took you back inside. She doesn’t like bugs. You heard that.”

“She doesn’t have to know. Wouldn’t you be so proud to help an angel? This form won’t last much longer in this cold..”

I bit my lip. “Well, if I told my mom you were an angel.. She’d probably be fine with—”

“Oh no! You can’t!” the bug chirped frantically. “I’d die! I can only reveal myself to one person! The Lord told me I'd die!"

She was clearly distressed. I didn't want her to die! She seemed so kind, too.

“Alright. I guess Mom doesn’t have to know…” I slipped her back into the pocket of my overalls. She stared back up at me. “Oh, thank you child! You will be Blessed!”

‘Bark!! Bark!! Grrrrr… Arufff..…. Bark!” Biscuit snarled at me as I came back inside, his lips pulled bark into a snarl. He startled me.

“Now what is it?-- Oh for heaven’s sake, ya ol’ mutt. It's just Sammy.” Mom said, giving Biscuit a gentle whap on the rump with the oven mitt she had just taken off. “She’s yer’ sister.” She shook her head. “Dog’s gettin’ too old..”

Mom came over and ruffled my hair, completely messing it up. “Go wash up kiddo. I made hotdogs and fries.”

YAY. I love hot dogs.

I scampered to my room with Biscuit in tow. The old dog wouldn’t stop *growling*. I had never noticed the black spots on his gums before, because he had never growled at anyone before. Not at passing cars, mailmen or even the occasional Jehovah's witness. It was out of character

…

Maybe he knew I was disobeying Mom?

Oh gosh, that’s what it was right? She always told me dog’s could sense people’s true intentions. I was just trying to be helpful!

“Biscuit, shush..” I tried to scoot him away from my room, but he growled at me. That dog wouldn’t budge at all! Every push only earned another furious grizzle from the yellow lab.

I didn’t want Mom to find out about my angel friend because of Biscuit’s growling. What if she died because I couldn’t keep her secret? What if mom grounded me from the computer because I brought her back in? … Maybe that last part wasn’t so important..

I opened the door ever so slightly and squeezed through the small crack, managing to shut Biscuit out. I let out a sigh of relief as I had managed to get the angel (or, as mom had thought, bug) back inside MOSTLY undetected.. Thankfully Biscuit can’t speak like a human, or I’d be in a heap of trouble!

I put the small, buggy angel on the bottom floor of my doll house. “You can live here. I don’t really play with it anymore.” I said, feeling proud of myself for being able to provide her such a grand house.

“Hmmm..”

“What is it?”

“It’s just that… Hm… Well, I think I'd much rather live over here.”

The yellow critter hopped like a cricket over to the dark, damp corner near the doll house. She seemed to nestle into the musty carpet. “Yes, this will do nicely.” I stared at her with bewilderment. "Wouldn't you rather be in the doll house..? Its much cleaner.."

“The moisture is better for my joints.” She reassured me. “Don’t worry, the corner is just a better place for me than the doll house.”

Ioda. Her name was Ioda. That’s what the angel had told me.

She had started requesting more things from me. On the first night, she wanted a dab of ketchup. On the second night, she wanted some of the grease drippings off the hamburgers Mom had cooked. On the next day, she wanted the wrappings from the package of the steak Mom had cooked for Dad. 

It freaked me out, watching her lick the red juice from the packaging... She *had* to eat though! I couldn’t let her starve!

I clutched my arm as I walked back into my room. Biscuit had *bit* me! That dog that I had since I was a baby *bit* me! Thankfully it only caused a little bleeding! I didn’t wanna tell Mom about it. I was worried she’d somehow find out I was a liar. She almost caught me sneaking the steak packaging earlier.. Do you know how hard it is to explain to your mother why you're taking empty food wrappers to your room and not look suspicious?

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Ioda asked, her tone curious. She seemed pretty preoccupied when I came in, but was now giving me her full attention.

“Biscuit bit me.. He's actin' crazy..”

“Let me see it.”

I held out my hand and she hopped onto it. Ioda scurried to the wound and inspected it for a moment. Then her butterfly-like tongue darted out and licked the bite. I was properly freaked.

“Mhh.. Ah yes. I can fix this” she assured as her tongue darted out onto my injured skin. “How are you fixing it..? You're just lickin' it..” I asked. “I'm cleaning the blood.” Ioda replied. “My touch will make it heal much faster than normal.”

“.... I see..” I felt a bit dubious about it, but Ioda had never harmed me. I stood there for an awkward few minutes before she hopped off, and back into her corner of the room. She used her hind legs to ball up some loose pieces of carpeting into some strange, oval shape and then appeared to regurgitate my blood onto the piece of fabric.

“What… What are you doing?” I questioned. It looked disgusting.

Ioda paused for a moment, then continued to work on the ball. “It’s a gift. For you. It will always keep you safe.”

“How?”

“You’re questioning me? My, how sad... Do you not believe in me anymore?”

“I do, I do! I’m sorry..”

“Hm.” Ioda responded, a warm tinge to her voice. “That’s what I thought, dear.” She continued to work on her strange carpet ball. I saw her working on it a lot during the coming days. It looked pretty gross. It was like a cat hacked up a bloody hairball on the floor, but I trusted the angel’s intentions.

On the 6th night, I was awoken by a wretched symphony of screaming. Biscuit was barking and snarling, but not at my door for a change. I could hear my mother crying out, and another sound that was like clicking and whirring. I swiftly grabbed the baseball bat resting against my dresser and all but kicked down the door. I prayed there wasn’t some sort of home intruder, but that was exactly what it sounded like was happening.

She was being mauled by some sort of..alien?? It was yellow and insectoid. I would’ve called it tall, but the only thing tall about it was its legs. Its head and body were compacted onto each other. Its short fangs were trying to dig into Mom’s neck, but their length was making the process slow and agonizing. It was like being gummed to death by a puppy. It gripped her tightly in its barbed claws.

Biscuit lept forth, tightly clamping his jaws around the creature's leg. There was a sickening crunch, and then Biscuit began to shake his head back and forth. It was causing the creature's leg to come loose from its socket. 

“Ackhh–!! Sammy, you have to help me!” The insectoid alien cried out through a mouthful of my mom's flesh.

…Ioda?

“Ioda?? You’re attacking my mom!” I raised the bat above my head, ready to strike.

“I just needed more blood! I *need* more!! Sammy, help! Don’t let me die!”

My eyes darted frantically, between Ioda, Biscuit and Mom. Mom let out a strangled gasp, she clearly couldn't breathe well with claws and fangs at her neck. She looked at me with a frightened look in her eyes, and that was all it took for me to make my decision

“Noo!! You vile child!!" Ioda shrieked, "Damn you to Hell!!”

Her voice became garbled as I brought the bat down on her head. It felt like hitting drywall, and her head immediately caved in. Biscuit continued to growl and snarl and shake wildly, tearing her leg into bits. 

I hit and hit and hit Ioda till her screams faded. It was like hitting a husk. I helped my mom up from the floor as she gasped raggedly.

“Jesus.. What was that thing..” She muttered, rubbing her neck.

“I.. I don’t know..” I replied, feeling incredibly guilty for bringing Ioda into the house in the first place.

I never told Mom the truth about how I had brought that monster into our house. I feel slightly guilty, but how was anyone supposed to know that sort of thing would happen? I feel punished enough anyways. I’ve developed a deep phobia of bugs. That phobia is part of the reason I ended up moving to the city later on in life. My fear was starting to get debilitating.

If you’re worried about my mother, she’s completely fine now. Still hates bugs, but you’d never be able to guess she’d been attacked by an alien (?) at all. There’s barely even a mark left on her neck. Biscuit is fine too, he stopped growling at me after we killed that thing. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I never woke up during that night, though… We buried Ioda in the woods, and never talked about it again.

I think the worst part about all this is, I ended up keeping her “gift”. I know this bizarre to learn, especially with my fear of bugs, but I was too afraid to destroy it. I was afraid if I did, more of those things would come running out. It’s in a Ziplock bag in my work desk. Obviously I wouldn’t keep that thing at my apartment. I figure it’s best I just keep an eye on it, rather than risk something worse happening by trying to destroy it.

It's been pulsing recently. I wonder what that means.

Alright that was like my maximum power i hope one of you enjoys this story

I have to go do my nine to five job, and by nine to five job i mean doing art fight c'ya