One Special Spring

New life emerging.

A joy and a relief.

For some.

But for me, Spring was always the beginning of a horror show.

You see, all my life I have suffered from seasonal allergies. And Spring, with its proliferation of pollen and mold, transforms my entire body into a whole new creature: one that lopes around wheezing, rasping, coughing and sniffling.

My bloodshot, itchy eyes play peek-a-boo as the puffiness around them comes and goes.

My nose turns a permanent scarlet of soreness from the all the blowing and wiping.

And, even if my asthma tames enough for me to go outside and move around, you can still hear its grip on my lungs in a stubborn, insufferable susurrance.

The sight and sound of me makes everyone wince.

In short, in Spring, I become a monster.

Yes, I get allergy shots.

Yes, I have HEPA filters and humidifiers.

Yes, I suck on inhalers and pop antihistamines like Halloween candy.

And those things all tone down the effects of the nightmare—at least enough for me to function with a mask. Which is an improvement. Before that, I was either the kid who couldn’t take part in physical activities or the kid who was MIA, out sick, bedridden. Depended on the day.

Not the most enviable childhood.

Donnie McCallester used to always tease me. Called me Rudolph. And worse. Made me burn with anger and humiliation. And, just my luck, he never left town. Still snickers when I walk by. Just because I always look like hell. Because I suffer from things he’ll never understand.

Mr. Perfect Health, Super Jock, Asshole.

And me. The monster.

Cowering. Burning in shame.

But then everything changed…

My doctor mentioned a pharmaceutical company’s need of volunteer trial subjects for a new, experimental treatment.

People with severe allergies.

People like me.

And I thought:

What have I got to lose?

***

The sky hung, dark and ominous; you could almost feel the impending storm from the electricity humming in the air.

Situated outside of town, the clinic took some time to get to. If not for the address and small sign, I might have thought I was in the wrong place: the outside of the facility looked like a ranch-style barn. Maybe that’s what it had been in a prior life.

But the inside looked the same as every other clinic I had ever graced in my long history of hospitalizations and doctor visits.

Pasty pale walls.

Cold, blank floors.

Smiling people in white coats.

And the forms.

NDA’s. Indemnity clauses. Agreeing to follow all rules. Willingly volunteering of sound mind, blah, blah, blah.

This, followed by more nodes and wires and needles than I’d ever had at one time.

But then, this was a new therapy, after all.

Or, as they suggested, potentially a cure.

Endless questions about my symptoms, prescriptions past and present, alternative avenues tried, various body fluids taken and tested. It was a long, exhausting morning.

But, at last, they prepared to administer the treatment, and I found myself lying on a table surrounded by manifold, unfamiliar machines--some hooked directly to me, others merely pointing at me with odd, conical projectiles. Lasers, I figured. Or some kind of UV or ultrasound.

Didn’t matter. The sedative hit me and everything went black.

***
I woke and looked around. I lay in some sort of recovery room. Nothing much to see. But then I noticed my nostrils sucked in cool, refreshing air.

I was breathing through my nose!

I was actually breathing through my nose … and my lungs made no sound at all! Everything was as clear and healthy as if I had never suffered a single respiratory ailment in my life!

Nurses, doctors and other staff circulated through my room in the following hours, running tests and cross-checks, asking follow-up questions, and so on. But by the end of the day, I was released with instructions for keeping a journal, wearing a special monitor on my wrist, post-treatment check-up appointments and related logistics that would provide feedback for the clinic.

The chap that escorted me out let me know, before telling me he shouldn’t, that everyone was extra excited and cautious, because I was the very first subject.

For the first time in my life, I was number one.

I honestly didn’t want to drive home. I wanted to walk. Hell—maybe even run! I felt so incredible! Just being able to breathe without feeling like I was under attack gave me so much more energy. I had chills of invigoration trickling all over my skin.

By the time I got home, I had to get out and walk.

And I did.

I headed into the winter-beaten woods behind the house and marched into the trees with a vigor I hadn’t felt in years. And, before I knew what I was even doing, I started to run.

To run!

I hadn’t been able to run—ever! Not without getting asthmatic.

I ran through the woods like a fucking gazelle!

Leapt over fallen logs.

Arms pumping.

Feet pounding.

I was on fire!

I screamed!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

Then it hit me.

Literally.

I froze as white, blinding light flashed around me and I felt a painful, tingling, clap on the back of my skull as thunder crashed overhead.

When the flashing stopped, I saw all the hairs on my arms standing straight out. Like after you rubbed a balloon against them.

I smelled a burnt ozone odor.

I thought:

Had I just been hit by lightning?

Should I be dead?

But I felt fine. Best I’d ever felt. I realized I wasn’t even breathing hard. And I had just been running! And maybe hit by lightning!

Then why did I feel so incredibly good?

A rustling to my left caught my attention.

I turned but saw nothing.

Then I realized I was hearing something that was farther away than I would have normally heard, previously.

I waited, watching until—

—I could smell it. It wasn’t even in sight, but my nose picked up the scent.

And it was familiar.

A few seconds later, a figure appeared, coming through the trees.

And I could see him clearly. As if my eyes, which had never been great, now had 20/20 vision.

I saw who it was.

And I saw the gun.

And the sight and the smell connected instantly.

Donnie McCallester. Mr. Perfect Health, Super Jock, Asshole.

He came closer. Got a sneer of recognition.

“What the fuck are you doing out here, Rudolph?”

My nostrils flared. That smell. The clash of mismatched body spray, deodorant and cologne.

Repulsive.

And yet, I could also smell his own faint mix of musk and sweat. Something I had never been aware of before. And I felt it affecting me. Felt my heart race a little. Felt my mouth go dry a little.

He kept coming closer.

“Yo, gay boy! I’m talkin’ to you!”

I just stood there. Ignoring his Neanderthal attempt at a slur. Taking in all the new sensations my body soaked up.

Donnie huffed.

“You lost? Is that it? I know you don’t hunt.” He snorted. “Too much of a pussy.”

I suddenly burned with fury. Just like always.

But this felt different.

Focused.

Assured.

“Fuck off,” I said. Loud. Firm.

He stopped. Face warping the slightest. Thrown.

Then, he grimaced.

Leaned in.

“Hey, Fuckface! You want a piece of me? Huh?”

I realized it, just in that moment.

Yeah. I did.

I lunged.

Bit right through his carotid artery.

He dropped the gun in shock as I held onto him and kept chomping away at his throat, blood spraying everywhere. He didn’t even get the chance to scream as I ripped through his windpipe. He eventually fell to the ground with me, and I tore my way through his flesh like a starved animal.

I didn’t even notice when the rain started. But by the time I had finished my meal, it poured hard enough to clean me off. Like nature offered me absolution through ablution.

The rain eased up as I rose, the sky clearing at last. I figured, after all those years of Donnie making me burn, I’d return the favor. I had a jerrycan full of gas in my car. I’d have myself a bonfire. A Donfire.

I don’t know if, like with Frankenstein, the lightning had somehow amped the treatment. But it didn’t matter. I was born anew. And this new monster would no longer cower.

I would not return to my old life. I removed the wrist monitor, crushed it under my heel, and headed to the house to gather what I’d need to live on the road, knowing I could take care of myself, easily, now.

Because now I was strong.

I was agile.

I could hunt.

As I retraced my steps through the barren woods, I realized my whole life had been one long winter.

And now Spring was about to begin.

New life emerging.

Finally.

For me.

This story was created as part of the “Spring Fever!” Substack Fiction Event.