Kristal Shanahan resides in Kansas with her husband of nearly 20 years and their two daughters, ages 17 and 26. She has loved reading and writing since early childhood. As a tween, she read Firestarter by Stephen King which ignited her love of the horror genre.
She is a high school English Language Arts teacher and certified in Special Education. She will also be teaching a creative writing class with an emphasis on fiction short stories next school year.
Kristal recently started a Bookstagram account on Instagram and the focus is primarily reading and writing horror, but she reviews multiple genres. She is actively networking and has increased her involvement with the horror community while joining the Horror Writers Association.
While Kristal has not attempted to publish any of her works yet, she is currently writing a novella and a collection of thematic horror inspired short stories which will hopefully be published late next year or early 2025.
Connect with Kristal here: Bookstagram
EXTATOSOMA CONTROL
by
Kristal Shanahan
On a frigid November evening, Angel enters the home she just inherited in a town known for its historical sites and multiple meth raids.
My career and inheritance led me here. Here. How good of an entomologist can I be in the middle of nowhere? She thought with regret.
Climbing the dirty cracked concrete steps, I remember the layout of the house is overwhelming with 31 total rooms as I enter the front door. My thoughts soon drifted to the history of the home.
A wealthy military colonel built it in the 1800’s, it was a sanitarium for a while, which explains the barred windows on the third floor, and then an Australian ancestor bought it so it’s been in my family ever since. Three levels of a gothic and victorian blend with a rich history and a lot of house to explore, and now it’s mine.
***
Feeling drowsy, I slowly climb the steep staircase to my bedroom on the second floor.
Jumping into bed never felt so good. The last thing I remember is seeing something odd on the wall in front of me as I drifted off into a troubled sleep that didn’t last. I sigh and head to the bathroom. While I’m washing my hands, I look up at the medicine cabinet mirror. Something catches my eye in the darkness behind me. I see rapid movement and every hair on my body stands at attention and goose pimples now cover my flesh, while fear penetrates my soul.
The light switch came on when I hit it and as I looked around, I didn’t see anything. I checked every nook and cranny and came up empty. I decided I just spooked myself since I woke up having a nightmare, being on edge must still be lingering I thought. I went back to bed and fell asleep, shortly after the uneasiness subsided. I didn’t feel it as I slept, but microscopic mites burrowed in my body through my arms and legs before I awoke in the morning.
As it became dawn, I opened my eyes feeling alarmed, yet not knowing why. I looked down and there were dozens of red swollen whelps with a clear puss center on all of what I can assume are bites. I shot up and turned around looking at my bed, but there was no evidence of bugs or spiders anywhere.
I quickly jump in the shower, blast the hot water, and add a soothing oatmeal paste to my skin that helps calm the itchy feeling. Afterwards, I decided to wear loose fitting clothes for comfort. I was going to clean, organize, and explore the house today.
***
After getting the majority of the house in working order, I decided to take a break and check out the basement. That is where the dead bodies were housed when patients died during the sanitarium years I thought and shivered.
Pulling the string to turn on the lightbulb over the staircase was no easy task. I managed it, but the light was flickering at best. The basement stairs were steep like the other stairs in the house and the banister was wobbly as I descended. The banister gave way, and I lost my footing and tumbled down to the concrete floor. My head bounced against the floor and I lost consciousness soon afterwards.
Hours later still on the basement floor, I finally came too, but I had a splitting headache. I still itched, and quickly became more alert when the whelps started to rupture and puss was oozing out of my skin with tiny mites. They scurried over to a corner of the basement floor where something was going on. As I sat up, I frantically brushed my arms and legs off to get rid of the mites. I looked around and I saw a busted up tank that could hold a large snake or an ungodly amount of insects. I saw something to my left and as I looked over, a large spiny leaf insect or better known as Extatosoma Tiaratum, native to Australia. Well that’s odd, I thought.
My uncle that died and left me the house was also an entomologist so I guess these insects are still here from when he died, but what set them free? Angel wondered as she looked at the busted tank.
Seconds later from a corner, a swarm of earwigs, silverfish, and roaches were coming at me moving together like a mini tidal wave! I tried to get up and run, but I was frozen in fear, I tried to scream, but nothing would escape my lips. The Extatosoma Tiaratum still stood on the floor to my left and looked curiously at me with its beady black soulless eyes. The swarm of insects reached me while I sat in a paralyzing dread. The swarm slowly started at my feet and began covering my entire body with theirs. By the time they nearly reached my face, I resigned myself to the fact that I too would die in this house like the people from the sanitarium.
The insects rushed upwards towards my neck, then they reached my face. I was on sensory overload as they entered my nostrils, my mouth, and my ears. I began to gag as the insects made their way down my throat and I was forced to swallow more than I could handle while I gasped for air. My breathing started to slow as I was suffocating by an insect infestation on and in my weakening body. As my final moments were upon me, I turned my head and the Extatosoma Tiaratum seemed to almost smile, and then I heard a sinister laugh from the basement shadows. I looked over and saw my uncle with what slivers of vision I had left. He possessed an evil grin and excited twinkling eyes while my life drained unfairly from me.
“Feed my children, feed!” he bellowed.
Laughter and insects continued to fill the dingy, pitch black basement.