A Bewilderment

A Bewilderment
By Dave Teifel

He said he wanted – no, needed my help. Bob was disturbed when I talked to him on the phone. His soft, hollow, unsure tone urged me to come.

I caught the old train that would take me to Bob’s house. It was foggy out. A building in the distance became more visible as the train approached. A sign in the distance, softly lit up by a small light that produced a ring from the fog covered bulb, confirmed my destination. I stepped down from the train, opened the sweaty slip of paper I had been holding in my hand, and read the directions to Bob’s house one last time.

It was a short trip down the moon lit road; unpaved and damp – about a mile. The road darkened at times, the clouds moving randomly past the moon. Appearing in the distance was his house, the yellow light making its way through the living room window, only to slowly dissolve in the night’s fog filled air. I headed for the door.

I knocked on the old wood screen door. I heard Bob yell distantly from inside the house for me to come in. I entered, only noticing the familiar face of my friend in the corner across the badly lighted room. The rest of him was hidden, shadowed by the silhouette of the furniture. The place was a shambles. It looked as though it had not been cleaned in weeks.

Instead of a greeting, Bob just stared at me. I stared back in bewilderment. He spoke.

"Something is happening. I can’t explain it. I mean, it’s too bizarre, strange; something not easy to explain."

"Come out of the corner so I can talk to you."

"I don’t feel – that is, I – I can’t, I shouldn’t. I don’t feel comfortable out there in the… that is…"
Bob crawled toward me on his hands and knees, his body covered in a robe. He was very slow, hesitant, moving only inches at a time. His body looked wider, not really fatter, but much more wide. His movements were odd – too fluent, smooth, concise. As he neared, I saw something black and shinny beneath his robe. I reached over to a table, took a lamp from it, and held it above Bob. One glance at the light and he shot smoothly across the room, squeezing into a crevice between a table and a chair. Again, in the dark.

It was horrible, inhuman! I could hardly believe what I was seeing! I bolted toward him and the lamplight showed me what I did not want to see.

Bob’s robe, slightly lifted now, showed a hard and shinny black shell. A shell somehow attached to him. His whole body seemed to be breathing; very shallow, very fast. He was staring back at me. I took a couple of steps forward, approaching. He squeezed back further, his face timid, scared. I reached for his robe. He sprawled out flat, dodging my touch. Wondering, needing to know, I reached down further and lifted his robe. I jumped back, half in horror, half in sympathy. I just stared. A giant insect – a cockroach!

I stared bewildered with blurred eyes. A tear ran from his eyes.