Sebastian Westbrook is the pseudonym for an unassuming young undergrad from the UK, just starting his adventures in writing. He enjoys RPG video games a little too much and spends more time on them than he should. When he can peel himself away, he reads fantasy fiction in the main, but also enjoys the horror genre, particularly movies.
DIPLOPODA DOMINUS
by
Sebastian Westbrook
Janet was underwhelmed when asked to observe an arthropod the researchers had recently brought in from their field work: they had sent her a millipede of all things, and wanted classification imminently. Bemoaning the fact that her long shift was being extended and she was the only scientist left in the lab, she hurriedly tipped it from its sealed dish into a glass tank stuffed with leaves and twigs. She then set about her vigil, staring at her six-inch-long companion.
Her first observation was that the millipede wasn’t eating. Janet fixed the problem by adding woodlice to the tank which the millipede then ambushed, revealing that it was an addition to the few predatory millipede species currently recorded. Other than that, it hadn’t displayed any odd behaviour.
Janet was still watching it do nothing at around 3am. She was trying her best to stay awake by munching a Snickers. The confectionary done, she discarded the wrapper by the side of the tank.
The millipede seemed to track her throw, its head raised. It then skittered to the edge of the tank, stopping dead by the glass. Suddenly, the segments – from its collum to its telson – altered in colour. They turned white, and blue patches – shaped like letters – materialised. In mere moments, the millipede had camouflaged itself as a fair approximation of the Snickers wrapper.
“Fascinating,” Janet whispered as she took out her phone to photograph her discovery. The millipede remained perfectly still, almost as if posing. She noted a potential name for the new species: Chameleon Millipede. The taxonomists could do what they liked with her suggestion – throw some Latin at it – but due to her little friend’s unique trait, she thought it fit him well. She returned to watching him. He’d reverted to his normal colours and was wandering the tank again.
An hour later, Janet observed the millipede exhibit another unique quality. She was watching it hunt the ants that she had just deposited in there, and once it was done consuming, it bent its first five diplosegments into an arch shape and suddenly stretched and became longer by a couple more inches. Janet shuddered. The sight was as intriguing as its ability to camouflage, but far more unnerving in a sense. She photographed how long the millipede had become and then went to write another name suggestion: Rubber Millipede. Perhaps less original, but still accurate.
When she looked back at the tank, she was met with worry. The millipede appeared to be missing. Janet opened the top to move around the twigs and leaves to find her little friend. As she became more concerned she decided to take some of the debris out to clear her view. Some of the larger twigs went, and the broader leaves. “Where the hell have you got to?”
She was considering tipping the tank over, when one of the discarded twigs on the counter moved and shifted. The millipede had disguised itself as a small branch. It was only noticeable when it moved; a hundred tiny legs extended out and transported it along the marble surface.
Janet tried to scoop it back inside, but it released a foul-smelling liquid secretion from its ozopores. Not only was the smell revolting, but the liquid itself burnt Janet’s skin, causing intense pain and blistering. She recoiled as the millipede scurried across the lab countertop, behind a rack of flasks and tubes. Janet ran her burnt hand under the cold faucet before retrieving a pair of metal tongs. Okay, you little shit, she thought to herself, approaching the rack. She could see his long, cylindrical body through the gaps and attempted to close the tongs around it to grapple him out.
As she was about to get it, it curled into a defensive coil and released another secretion which melted the ends of the tongs. Janet dropped them in shock. Millipede secretions were not supposed to melt metal. She was panicking now. How was she supposed to catch something that had such defences and cunning? It had fooled her into letting it out and now it was employing tricks and strategy to keep her away. She couldn’t let it escape her, not just because she had no idea what it was, but because it was clearly dangerous.
Janet tried to compose herself. She figured, after a moment, that she should use the half-empty tank as a trap. She placed it on its side and slid it over towards the apparatus. Carefully, she picked up the rack, exposing the coiled millipede. She decided she would just shove the open side of the tank up against the wall, encasing it in glass once again.
But it just burnt metal tongs, she thought. What’s glass going to do? Still, she didn’t think she had any other option.
As Janet braced herself behind the tank, she saw the millipede unfurl and start to crawl along the counter. She would have to act fast. She was about to shove when suddenly, the millipede leapt off the counter and latched onto her eyelid. It began releasing more liquid secretions, burning through the skin on Janet’s face. She screamed in agony as the millipede’s secretions ate away at her skin. She attempted to pull the millipede from her face but the acidic liquid burnt her hands. The pain was unbearable. She was brought to her knees by the scorching fluid. With her one good eye she watched the millipede arch its diplosegments again and grow longer. It moved its telson towards her other eyelid and used it legs to hook onto it. Janet’s vision was gone, but the pain was amplified as she felt something burrow into her eyes.
Positioned like a malicious blindfold, the segments of the millipede began to change colour once more. Representations of Janet’s eyes manifested themselves on its back, taking on their exact shape and hue.
Janet stood, but was in fact absent. Diplopoda Dominus guided her body out of the lab.