THE ITCH
2025.01.20 13:00 Holiday_Caregiver899 THE ITCH
Returning from the Amazon was one of the most exhausting and exhilarating experiences of my life. That trip to South America had been the perfect escape from my suffocating routine as a rising attorney in the United States. After years of hard work, I’d secured a solid position at Marston & Associates, and with a recent promotion offer, life finally seemed to be heading in the right direction.
But since I returned, something hasn’t felt right.
It began with a faint itch on my left arm, just below the elbow. At first, I thought it was just a mosquito bite—inevitable after weeks in the Amazon rainforest. I didn’t pay much attention to it. I applied some ointment, took an antihistamine, and carried on.But the itch wouldn’t go away.Two days later, it worsened. The small red spot on my arm started swelling, throbbing as if something alive was inside. Every touch felt like fire burning beneath my skin. At the office, the situation became unbearable. I shifted constantly in my chair, unable to focus on anything but the desperate need to scratch. I clawed at my arm under the desk, trying to hide it, but it was no use. The fabric of my blouse rubbed against the irritated skin, amplifying the agony.“— Elizabeth, are you okay?” Clara, a coworker, asked. “— Just an allergy, nothing serious,” I lied, forcing a smile.She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but didn’t press further. I knew I was drawing attention. My boss, Mr. Marston, frequently walked past my desk, watching me out of the corner of his eye. I couldn’t let this jeopardize my promotion.But the pain was becoming unbearable. When the workday finally ended, I rushed home. I closed the door to my apartment, dropped my bag, and went straight to the bathroom.I looked in the mirror and rolled up my sleeve.
My heart froze.Where there had been a small red mark, there was now a dark swelling with a black, hardened center, like tree bark. The skin around it was cracked, oozing a yellowish liquid with a nauseating smell. It was as if my skin was rotting before my eyes.I grabbed the strongest ointment I had, but as soon as I touched the wound, the pain exploded. I screamed, tears streaming down my face.The next morning, I went straight to the hospital. I wasn’t the kind of person to wait until the last minute to seek help. My mother used to say: “— Elizabeth, you’re so paranoid you’ll die of old age because nothing will ever catch you off guard.”At the hospital, the doctor examined the wound with a mix of curiosity and discomfort. He called in another doctor, who then called in two more. They all stared at my arm like it was a nightmare brought to life.“— It’s a tropical disease,” the doctor said after several long minutes. “— We’ll run some tests.”They sent me home with antibiotics and painkillers, but I knew that wasn’t enough. Something was growing inside me.That night, I woke up to excruciating pain.
It felt like something was moving under my skin—crawling and digging. I ran to the bathroom mirror and tore off the bandages.The wound was now a deep hole, filled with a gelatinous, yellow substance. In the center, something moved.
My hands trembled as I grabbed tweezers and inserted them into the hole. When I pulled, something came out.
It was a worm. Small, white, but alive. It writhed between the tweezers, and I threw it into the sink, nearly vomiting.
But when I looked back at the wound, I saw there were more. So many more.
The days that followed were hell.
I woke up drenched in sweat, my head pounding as if it would explode. The pain in my arm was no longer something I could ignore—it consumed my entire body.
The wound grew at an alarming rate. Initially, it was just a foul, black, gaping hole. Now, it spread like a cancer, devouring the surrounding flesh, which peeled away in chunks. My clothes clung to my arm, soaked with the viscous liquid that oozed constantly.
I spent hours in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the pit my arm had become. It was as if something inside was alive. Small ripples in the decaying flesh, like waves on a contaminated lake, revealed their presence.
By the third day, after pulling out the third worm with tweezers, I realized I was trapped in an endless cycle.
I removed them, but more appeared. Always more.
I couldn’t sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I felt the creatures moving inside me, digging deeper into my flesh.
I became obsessed. I spent sleepless nights on the bathroom floor, extracting worms with tweezers, needles—anything that could reach them. My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t stop. For every one I removed, two seemed to take its place.
And the sound.
At first, I thought it was in my head, but it wasn’t. It was a low, wet rustling, coming from my arm. The sound of something scraping against flesh, chewing, burrowing.
By the fifth day, the nightmare reached a new level.
My left hand went numb. I tried to move my fingers, but they wouldn’t respond. When I looked at my arm, the swelling had spread. The skin around it was translucent, almost see-through, revealing long, white shapes writhing beneath—rivers of larvae flowing through my body.
I vomited on the bathroom floor. The stench of bile mixed with the rotting smell of my arm, making the air unbreathable.
I knew they were growing.
And I knew they wouldn’t stop.
It felt like a legion of burning needles was piercing my skin, deeper and deeper each time. The wound was growing alarmingly. At first, it was just a black, fetid hole in the center of the swelling. Now, it spread like cancer, advancing through the surrounding flesh, which was rotting and falling apart in pieces. My clothes started to stick to my arm, soaked with the viscous liquid that kept dripping constantly. The smell was nauseating, a mix of rotten meat and something chemical, acidic, that seemed to burn my nostrils. I spent hours in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting that hole that had become my arm. It was as if something inside it was moving. Small ripples in the rotting flesh, like waves on an infected lake, showed that they were there. On the third day, after pulling out the third worm with tweezers, I realized I was caught in an endless cycle. I would remove them, but more would appear. Always more. I cried out of frustration and disgust. "Get out of me! Get out!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and desperate. But the worms didn’t obey. Each night was worse than the last. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel the creatures moving inside me. The mere thought that they were digging through my flesh kept me awake. I became obsessed. I spent the nights sitting on the bathroom floor, pulling out worms with tweezers, a needle, anything I could reach. My body was exhausted, but my mind never stopped. Every time I pulled one out, it seemed like two more appeared. I began to hear sounds. At first, I thought it was just in my head, but it wasn’t. It was a low rustling noise, like something wet brushing against flesh, gnawing, burrowing. I knew they were growing. On the fifth day, hell reached a new level. My left hand began to tingle. Then, it went numb. I tried to move my fingers, but they wouldn’t respond. When I looked at I start My skin was greenish and damp, gleaming with a sickly, oily sheen. I called an Uber to take me to the hospital. When the driver stopped in front of the building, I hesitated for a moment. I tried to cover my arm with a cloth to hide the deplorable state it was in, but the fabric quickly became soaked with the yellowish liquid that leaked incessantly. I got in the car, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Good morning…” I tried to say, but my voice came out hoarse, almost inaudible. The driver, a middle-aged man with a friendly expression, smiled through the rearview mirror, but his expression changed as soon as the smell reached him. “Are you okay?” he asked, wrinkling his nose and cracking the window a bit. “It’s just… an infection. I’m going to the hospital.” He nodded but kept the windows open throughout the entire ride. I saw him rub his nose several times, and his glance in the rearview mirror was filled with distrust. The smell was getting worse. It was the smell of death. When I finally arrived at the hospital, I staggered through the front door. The people in the waiting room instinctively moved away, some covering their mouths, others wrinkling their faces in disgust. I was taken directly to the emergency room. The doctor who attended to me was the same as before, but his serious expression indicated that he knew the situation had gotten out of control. He could barely hide his own reaction to the smell. “Elizabeth… what happened?” he asked, while putting on gloves and a mask. “I… I don’t know. It’s getting worse. It’s… growing.” He looked at my arm, now practically unrecognizable. The wound had turned into a grotesque opening, filled with necrotic flesh and viscous secretions. The center pulsed as if it had a life of its own, and the edges were covered in small worms crawling in and out, as if they were digging tunnels. It was as if they were digging tunnels. “We need to act immediately. This is no longer just an ordinary infection,” he said, calling for other doctors. I was rushed into the operating room. The nurses’ faces were a mix of professionalism and horror, as if they were trying not to think about what they were seeing. The room was cold, and the bright lights reflected off the metal surgical instruments. “We’ll need to amputate the arm, Elizabeth,” the doctor said, holding my healthy hand to try to comfort me. “There’s no other option. It’s spreading too quickly.” I simply nodded. I no longer had the strength to protest. All I wanted was for it to stop. They sedated me partially, but I remained conscious enough to feel the first incision. When the scalpel cut into the flesh around the wound, a collective scream echoed through the room. Larvae were raining down. From the cut, a torrent of white worms exploded like a geyser. They were larger than the ones I had seen before, thicker, almost translucent, with quick and frantic movements. The nurses recoiled, some screaming, others dropping instruments on the floor. “My God…” murmured the doctor, while trying to stay calm. The worms fell to the floor and began to spread throughout the room, crawling in all directions. The stench emanating from them was even stronger, a wet, rotting smell that seemed to fill every corner of the space. The doctor continued cutting, desperate to sever my arm from the rest of my body. But the worms didn’t stop. They appeared from every side, burrowing into my flesh as if they were living roots, connected to my own body. The pain was unbearable, even with the sedatives. I could feel every movement, every bite, every slide of their viscous forms. “We need to finish this now!” the doctor shouted, wielding a surgical saw to cut through the bone. But as he began to saw, more worms came out, this time faster, as if trying to escape. One climbed up his glove, crawling to his wrist. “Get this off me!” he shouted, as another nurse tried to help him. The operating room was in chaos. The floor was covered in blood, pus, and worms. Surgical instruments were scattered around, and the nurses didn’t know where to run. I could feel that this wasn’t going to end there. The arm wasn’t the only place they were. They had already spread throughout my entire body. “Doctor…” I whispered, my voice almost inaudible. “It’s no use. They’re everywhere.” He looked at me, his face pale and filled with horror. For a moment, I thought he was going to pass out. “Elizabeth… I’m so sorry.” And then, my vision darkened. I looked at my hands, but they were no longer mine. My skin was full of holes, and worms were coming in and out as if I were just a vessel.
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2025.01.20 13:00 Soft_Race3040 anime characters sing once upon a december
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2025.01.20 13:00 twinkiedork Fortnite? 24
Anyone want to play Fortnite with me? 👉👈😂 Dork here. I’m not the best at it and I’m shy, but I’m wanting to be more outgoing and play with someone. I’m not competitive or a builder, I play just to play, and hoping to make some friends.
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2025.01.20 13:00 WashRevolutionary483 Några tips för att få bort gula fläckar på tapeten ?
Jag har gula fläckar vid min ena vägg , det står mig lite då jag går och tänker på hur fan jag ska få bort det . Jag vill ju inte förvärra det så om ni har några tips på hur man kan få bort det , skulle det hjälpa oerhört .
Jag tror att jag suttit med blött hår mot själva väggen och därav har fukt gjort väggen gul .
submitted by WashRevolutionary483 to Asksweddit [link] [comments]
2025.01.20 13:00 scrapplehoops How can I post on Instagram without seeing any content?
I really like making posts and stories on Instagram just as a method of documenting my life events. Unfortunately I also have no self control and I very easily start scrolling after I've posted what I want to post.
Is there a way that I can only access the posting feature and stop wasting time or should I just quit it, posts and all?
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2025.01.20 13:00 matttttttheus e o cruzeiro hein?
Esse time do cruzeiro cada dia se torna o candidato pra serie b 2026, puta que pariu que barca perfeita p desgraça, com o diniz ainda. estou ansioso
submitted by matttttttheus to Futebola [link] [comments]
2025.01.20 13:00 Inevitable_Owl_4936 Anyone willing to do this?
 | Needing the unis for a mega! Lmk if you have one and what you're lf! submitted by Inevitable_Owl_4936 to AdoptMeTradingRoblox [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 budstroke 56M Fredericksburg, VA Virginia area looking for a local guy for platonic friendship
Gay guy looking for a local Virginia guy 25+ for irl in-person platonic friendship. I like cooking, gardening, travel, movies, historic places, and road trips.
submitted by budstroke to gayfriendfinder [link] [comments]
2025.01.20 13:00 Upstairs-Menu0000 Jasmine Armfield
 | submitted by Upstairs-Menu0000 to UK_babes_underrated [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 jacobhess13 COT Report: Elevated commodities longs face short-term risks as Trump 2.0 era begins (Saxo Bank)
 | submitted by jacobhess13 to EconReports [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 gmmir Need help: How to drive qualified traffic to my landing page?
Hi everyone!
Recently, I launched the landing page for my product, and since then, I have been trying to drive traffic to it. My first approach was to pay for Google Ads, but I quickly noticed that the kind of traffic it attracts is not really the people we're trying to reach.
Doing a bit of research, seems like the most common advice is 'go to where your users are' i.e. subreddits and other forums. While this in theory seems to make a lot of sense, in practice I'm finding it hard to execute because most of these forums do not allow promotion, or if they do, the audience itself hates anyone trying to sell them something.
With all of that in mind, I'd like to raise the question: What's the optimal way to drive qualified traffic to a landing page? How do I get people who are interested in my product to access my website?
Looking forward to having a productive discussion.
Thanks!
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2025.01.20 13:00 Aurora_Borealis01 Does anyone else feel like everyone in their congregation is being fake?
I've been PIMO for a while now and feel like I'm teetering on the edge of being POMO. My dad recently passed away, so I moved back home to be with my mom since she's alone now. I made it clear to her that I no longer want to be involved in the org and haven't attended meetings since I returned.
Yesterday, my mom asked if I could go with her to meetings, and I agreed. We arrived just as the meeting was starting, so we didn't have a chance to talk to anyone beforehand. After the meeting, everyone came up to me, greeting and hugging me since they hadn't seen me in almost a year.
As all of this was happening, all I could think about was how fake it felt. Everyone is "always" so happy to be around each other, but it seems like you never really know who they are because they're all playing a part. It felt like a facade. All of that niceness was suffocating.
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2025.01.20 13:00 R2J4 «Brexit: a British drama», 2019
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2025.01.20 13:00 Sailboat_fuel Dashers, does this mean anything to you?
I’m a customer, and I’ve always had good experiences with DD. I tip pretty good I think, and I keep my orders simple, and my house number is clearly marked, so it’s always been pretty satisfying service for me. I don’t order THAT much; once a week at most
I recently found out that DD has me listed as an “elite customer” (see screenshot). Dashers, what do you do if you see this? How often do they come up?
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2025.01.20 13:00 josylad Hiring: Lease Manager at Afterpay
Afterpay is hiring a Lease Manager
Location: Singapore, Singapore
Description:
Job Description As the Lease Manager, you are responsible for the management of the store portfolio in a specific geographic region or country. You are responsible for enabling long term growth by finding top locations for new stores; obtaining the best possible deals by negotiating lease contracts with property owners; and active portfolio management of the existing portfolio, including optimizations, renegotiations, etc. The role of Lease Manager is about internal and external collaboration, anticipating developments within our industry and taking into consideration how much the world changes all the time. You support all brands in your market in enabling their brand plans and growth. You are ambitious, self-driven, competitive, and humble, you value taking responsibility and are motivated by creating change. You work strategically and have a multibrand and multichannel perspective. You have strong an
Learn More and Apply: https://app.resumeset.com/jobs/lease-manager-58285/
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2025.01.20 13:00 GameProfessional ⬆️ Up Game Shop
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2025.01.20 13:00 ToastedSlider Fish, mayo, & green chili snack from Korea. They are quite addictive. Its called 먹태깡 by 농심
 | submitted by ToastedSlider to chips [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 Dazzling_Ad658 1f2d | No rules, No admins, Survival only
1fighter2defenders (1f2d) is a minecraft survival server with a world that never resets in a free for all environment. The server was started at 26. April 2021 making it 3 years & 8 months old. Thousands of players have visited at least once. Griefing, building, cheating, everything goes.
IP to connect with: 1f2d.net
Game version: 1.21 Supported versions: 1.17 - 1.21.4
Links & contact Reddit: 1f2dofficial
Website: https://1f2d.net
E-mail: [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
Discord server: discord.1f2d.net
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2025.01.20 13:00 Inevitable_Pen3607 gardening question
Gardening in quotation marks
Do you guys still operate with a plug for your greens? So many cannabis shops popping up I'm glad and all but wondering if bulk buying is still a thing and what your going rate is
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2025.01.20 13:00 Upper-Ad9228 breathless after a track run: artist だましあい
 | submitted by Upper-Ad9228 to YuukaHayase [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 Sidoen Disconnects are to keep the grind alive
I've been grinding the weapons all to relic lately. Down to the last two.
But it's taking me days to do these. Not because I'm only playing average or something tho, all games are on ruthless. Untill recently this made it easy to progress a weapon or two to relic in a day or two.
The bolt sniper was my second last, got it down to two matches to go before I stopped for the day.
The following day I loaded up the game thinking Imma finish off the last two weapons, hours of game time planned. After the first match however, nothing, all games just would fail to connect. The next day I finished it off and had no problems.
I then worked on my final weapon the bolt stalker. Got a bunch of games in and again came down to two matches before I called it a night.
Well this morning can you guess what happened? Got into a ruthless inferno. Finished the match solo as the only other player d/c'd before the final room. I thought it odd but meh could happen for all sorts of reasons.
After that one match to go, and of course no more connections.
I've tried all the things, I've looked at all the tricks. I can only assume at this point that this FEATURE is actually to just help us stretch out the game. So.. you know... It's clearly a good thing.
Looking forward to the final game I'll need to finish the relic grind... Hopefully before I turn 50.
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2025.01.20 13:00 Extreme-Suspect5384 Girls keep asking income
Why girls keep asking me my income and about my life and what I do ? I am it guy and make 3 lacs a manth . I am 27 and looking to get married. But the girls I date keep asking my income in indirect way . It seems weird . What do you think ?
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2025.01.20 13:00 Hefty_Reindeer_1783 I'm making a collection of Lego games, I bought this one today on sale, and have you played this one yet?
 | submitted by Hefty_Reindeer_1783 to legogaming [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 Upper-Ad9228 breathless after a track run: artist だましあい
| | submitted by Upper-Ad9228 to YuukaHayase [link] [comments] |
2025.01.20 13:00 GameProfessional 🛍️ eBay Video Games | ⬆️ Up Game Shop
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